Distractions

A year ago it seemed impossible for me to turn my life around. I considered myself fucked. I was down in the hole addict and alcoholic, jobless, my credit was bad, my health had been detoriating, I had no friends or connection because I burned every bridge that offered me help. It really did just seemed hopeless I knew I was going to slip into obscurity, become one of the crazy homeless or a john doe at the morgue.

I had no idea how to turn it around. I started reading a lot of self-help books. Shit, I had been reading the self-help books for years and nothing ever seemed to work. I even went to one of those “Secret” workshops hoping to get some inspiration or something but walked away even more disappointed. It just seemed they just wanted to sell me more crap and I didn’t have any money.

Change isn’t easy. I figured I make up my own guide to success and follow it. I didn’t want to hear or read about those who already made and living in their big mansions or whatever. I was still in the struggle. I didn’t want to become a better person, I just wanted to not have to live from check to check. I suddenly had an American dream.

Why do we change? I guess there comes a point in our lives were we just need more. I guess there comes a point in our lives that we haven’t found what we’re looking for. I guess you really can’t change unless you know what you looking for. Unless you’ve gotten angry and understand the sacrifice.

I think change is a fantasy. I think people believe if they switch their friends, neighborhoods, jobs or city, that’s change. What they do is just recreate old situations.

My two cents on blogging

Can you really know a person from their blog?

I often think that I’m misunderstood, and that’s in real life so I can imagine the confusion I must create in my blog. Sometimes when I’m out someone will come up to me who has been reading my blog and tell me it’s really dark and sad at times. They ask me if I’m okay. I laugh. I guess the subject matters I discuss like drug addiction, alcoholism, suicide and mental institutions and illnesses gives them some concern. On surface in real life, I come across as a happy go lucky flirtatious guy. It wouldn’t seem I would know about so many dramatic issues that I put in my blog.

I wouldn’t say I’m exactly what I write about in my blog. It’s part of my personality, actually a really small part. I try not to get too personal even when I’m writing about very personal issues like break-ups or relapses. I try to be sorta of general but still tell my truth.

The problem I found with writing about personal issues sometimes is that some people automatically think they know me. I remember after I published “Who is Sean” I was talking to some guy I had known for like a year. When he read my book, his entire perception of me changed. He automatically thought the character “Sean” (a promiscuous parti boy)was verbatim me. He started making very aggressively sexual advances towards and telling me what he thought I liked. He wouldn’t stop until I hit him in his jaw. I felt that was the scary thing about being a writer. Sometimes you unintentionally invite insanity and freaks.

I am not my blog. My blog is just a part of me. A person who hadn’t seen my picture couldn’t pick me out of a police line-up just from reading my blog. People who read my blog should like what I had to say, not assume how I am living my life. It’s just a glimpse. It’s not the story.

It got me to thinking, why blog? I guess I can say I started blogging before it was popular. I had a tacky website years ago where I posted my bad poems and short stories. I didn’t even know I was blogging. It didn’t have a name back then. I suddenly started writing about my life. I guess I just wanted to document my life for a year. I guess I started blogging because I saw it as a virtual journal. I didn’t tell anyone but people find out and I made some internet friends.

I came into blogging again a little more professionally or neater when my book was published. I figured it was a good way to promote myself and give a glimpse of who I am as a writer. I figured it would sell books. Besides, it was doing the time when all the black gay writers had websites or blogs so I didn’t want to be left out. I wanted to put my mark on the blogging world. After a few months, I didn’t upkeep. The blog changed from explaining my personality to me just posting naked pictures of myself. I called those the heavy drug years. I was still young and discovering my body and just wanted to show it off. I was looking for attention. I guess that’s when blogging turned into me looking for attention.

I’ve had many blogs. I start a blog, hate the title and then just delete it. I couldn’t make up my mind about what I wanted to call my blog. I couldn’t make up my mind how I wanted to present myself to the world. But I always kept my original blog “a life not so black and gay.” Mostly because it was free. The blogs I paid for usually went into collections.

Now why do I blog? That’s a good question. It depends. Sometimes it’s a form of exhibitionism. I like writing about my life and lately my recovery. I think of a journal, something I can look back at and see how I’ve grown. I’ve grown a lot in my blogging. Sometimes, it’s to strengthen my writing. Sometimes as a writer you must write just to write like exercising. I also like testing out short stories to see if they get some type of reaction from anybody in the virtual world or maybe an agent.

I’m glad I’m writing this blog because it brings clarity to my blogging. I don’t have to do it. It’s not like I’m getting paid, net yet at least.

A friend of mine recently asked me what he could do to make his blog better. At first I didn’t understand the question. I really didn’t feel as if my blog was spectacular. I sorta knew what he mean, which was how could he get more people to pay attention. He’s a nudist and exhibitionist so the more people who pay attention to him the happier he is.

Blogging has taken over the last couple of years as in everybody and their mama has one. It’s just as common as email so the intentions of blogging are really different. I’ve found with blogging it’s really the intention of the blogger that determines the direction of their blog and who they will attract. I write about addiction, alcoholism, so I get a lot of AA people ready my blog or recovery addicts. I used to get a lot of black gay men who commented on my blog, it various.

I think the first issue when a person decides to blog is that will it be personal or business.

Business blogs are those who are actively seeking advertisers so their visitor counts usually have to be high. The business blogs are usually those who are self-promoting some type of product. Also another business blogs are the celebrities blogs. So business blogs tend to be a lot more focus and maintained to keep their audience.

A personal blog has no financial personal interest. It’s really just for friends and family and the voyeurs. It’s true that some personal blogs eventually become business blogs but most are just ranting geeks with computers. I feel with personal blogs the blogger has more freedom because there’s no pressure which is a reason why personal blogs aren’t updated that often.

I know my blog is a personal blog. It really doesn’t have a real direction. I just write whatever comes to my mind and the upkeep is sporadic. I also don’t solicit for visitors; people usually find me some way. I don’t think too much about it.

But as I think back why I originally started blogging I remember it was another form of expression for me. I just wanted to write. I just wanted to be part of the virtual world. I was a writer and wanted to tell the world. So even if my blogging has gotten a little bipolar recently, my intentions are the same therefore in the future I will try to be more consistent.

So to answer that friend questions how to make his blog better is to decide if it’s personal or business and the intention. If you blog it, trust me they will come read it.

Back to reality

I’m trying to figure what I’ve learned since I began recovery almost a year ago. My knee jerk reaction would be I haven’t learned a damn thing. I know that’s a lie. It’s a hard road full of a lot of guilt and anger and depression.

I think the most important lesson of all I’m learning is to trust myself and know who I am. I trust I will not drink during the weekday because I know the consequences. It’s hard because my drinking schedule usually started on Wednesday but I had to change a few things in order to live. I trust that I’m the type of drinker who doesn’t stop at one bottle of rum. I drink literally until I pass out. It’s hell the next day trying to recover. I used to do that four or five times a week.

I’ve also learned forgives. I think forgiveness is most important. In the beginning of recovery, I was so damn hard on myself. I had so much to prove with my sobriety. I didn’t want anyone getting in their head that I was a drunk. I knew I was more. Yet, I struggled. I was so concerned what it looked like to recover, I wanted to be the “A” student of recovery that when I relapsed it sent me into a downward depression that was worse than the drinking. I wouldn’t talk or call anyone for days. I just walk around my house in shame because I failed again. I had to realize I wasn’t perfect. Forgiveness for me wasn’t an excuse to continue drinking, but that hug I needed to continue to try and get better. I have to love myself first. I can’t do anything unless I love myself first.

The last thing I’m learning is patience. I have none. I want the instant gratification. I’m a pleasure seeker. I can’t stand to wait for the miracle. I want to cut the line. But the truth, I can’t rush it. It’s not in my control. I just have to give in to it.

At first I thought recovery and rehab was going to be so Hollywood. On television and the movies they often make it look so sexy. Funny, what I’m having a hard time letting go is the Hollywood image. But I know the truth. I guess you can say that is something else I also learned this past year. Is truth. I started learning to tell myself and others the truth. It’s so powerful because I’m not healing a lie. I’m healing a human being.

For the future, I want to start setting goals. I guess that’s what I didn’t do when I started recovery in the first place. At first, I was so damn skeptical. I was also so afraid. I didn’t want to turn into bible carrying fanatic preaching about the devil ways. I still wanted to be cool and young.

For the future I want to practice “acceptance.” I can’t cry about it, I can scream and shout, but it is what it is, I am an alcoholic. It’s not the end of the world. It’s just the beginning.

I'm getting close

Life before the first drink.

After what happened this past Tuesday, I would think I’d know better. I’m beginning to realize it’s not about knowing better but wanting better. I liked to drink. I used to like to do drugs but the culture ended up getting on my nerves.

Before the first drink, right now I feel sober. I mean, I have energy, my mind is clear, I’m not hungover. But that’s tomorrow. Why am I drinking in the first place. It’s Saturday night. I’m bored. I want to go out and flirt and maybe pick up sex if I am lucky.

Of course after I pour myself the first drink I’m anxious. I pray the night want end with me over doing it again. The last time I drank I felt really suicidal. I mean it was after a liter and a half, but it scared me. I was hungover for three days. Well here is goes. I guess I should say goodbye to my sanity for now.


Drink 4, I just got back from the bar. I know it’s surprising that it’s drink 4 but I’m counting those drinks that were two as one because they were so weak. I guess I’m on drink five. But this is the crying part of my drinking. Well just tears. Not crying, nothing ugly, nothing babyish, just reminiscing. This is what keep me in the past. I think about friends I lost. Last week I dreamt my sister died and it brought me to my knees, so I’m on my 5th drink I think about how much I would hurt if it was real. I think about grandma. I think about how much I love my ex-lover. I guess my 5th drink is sentimental. But I know something my sinisiter is waiting around the corner. It’s sadness first and next is anger.
Should I stop drinking now, I ask myself, just go to bed, don’t piss anyone off, don’t go to jail, we will see.

Drink 6, all eyes on me. I’m sexy. I look in the mirror and like what I see. I just want to dance and feel good. Because I’m feeling so good right. I shaved in all the right places and want to show it off. I don’t care who, I just care how.

Drink 9, I’m home and pissed. Maybe I fucked somebody, who knows, who remembers. And now I feel lonely. And now this anger starts. I feel unappreciated. Why I can’t make them stay. Hmmmmm

And then the suicide thoughts start. Why couldn’t make you stay Mama. And I know what that means now. I drink to revist my pain of abandonment. If it ain’t there I will create. But why

Drink 10-11

And this is when I feel if I will be criying for the rest of my life. I try to be so quiet, have no issues, and the seconed I do everying have issues with me. It’s like please redo my resume but don’t act like you have no illegiencce. That’s my lie. And that’s why I have my drama, most ppl are dumb


Drink 12

Don’t know if I can’t type this. Maybe this I show we give up. He tells me to go to my apartment. When he knows that’s not finicially capapble. But maybe he doebns’t he cae. I tryt to make him think life is more than his issues. And when I want ot destry let me


Dtink 16


It’s 11 o’clcok in the morning and I still have enough bottle. I feel like a failure and on’t know why. But I know why. I call my ex and I like the fact he is still in love with me. And the world gets narrow. I need to get a job. I need t finish my novel. The last time it was I need go back to the pschtriatic hospital. But this time I’m learning to love myself. I want this experimient to be more dramatic. But sometimes we grow. .

My broken record

When I said I was going to stop drinking, damn I didn’t know it would be so hard. I don’t consider myself a hardcore drunk, more of a binge drinker who takes it too far sometimes. I think that’s part of my problem, because when people say “one day at a time” I figure that’s so of easy. I don’t need to drink everyday. I don’t need to drink every week. But when I do drink after a long hiatus, the beginning is usually mild. I don’t over do it. But a couple of days later, I’m at the liquor buying bottles and planning on staying up all night. I don’t even go out, unplug my phone and it’s just me and the liquor in my apartment alone. I’d drink until I’m falling down, listening to music, looking at old pictures. But sometimes what I consider my “me” time seeps out. Listening to the music, old pictures and videos begin to bring up not so pleasant memories and I want attention. That is when the phone calling start. That is when the suicidal feelings begin to nag. It’s like I use the alcohol so that I can stay in the past.

When I finally come through off of my binge, I feel so guilty. I miss days and can’t remember. I know I have harassed or pissed off some people. I usually blame it on my bipolar or something. I’d feel so guilty like I want to hide my head in shame for at least a month. I don’t want to talk about it.

I’ve experience people who repeat the same mistakes over and over again that it’s their broken record. I think most of us have broken records. I get so sick and tired of mine but every once and awhile I need to play it. Maybe this time it won’t scratch or skip. It’s my most unattractive flaw; I know it, but those who really love put up with it.

What makes a racist

The Theme of Dharma Practice
"The foundation and initial goal of [our] transformation is avoiding doing harm to others. Whether alone or with others, we must strive to avoid doing harm either directly with our words or deeds or indirectly with our thoughts and intentions. We may injure others with abuse, slander, sarcasm, and deceit, or by acts of omission due to insensitivity and thoughtlessness. The most subtle way of harming others is indirectly by means of our thoughts, judgments, and attitudes. When the mind is dominated by hostility, we may be viciously attacking others with our thoughts. Although no apparent injury may be inflicted, these thoughts affect us internally and influence our way of interacting with others, and the long-term effect is invariably harmful. So the initial theme of Dharma practice is a nonviolent approach to our own lives, to other living beings, and to our environment. This is a foundation for spiritual practice, and can provide well-being for both ourselves and others. On this basis of nonviolence we can look for ways to serve others keeping in mind that any work will be altruistic if our motivation is one of kindness and friendliness. --B. Alan Wallace"


I had a friend many years ago back in Texas who got into a relationship with a white guy. Being from Texas I got used to a lot of overt racism, I mean people coming right out and saying it in your face. I have never been personally been called a “nigger’ but I been made to feel like one.

My friend who is which I had no problem with him dating a white guy I felt was in the strangest relationship. His boyfriend was always using some type of racial epitaph around him. Or saying something that could be conceived very racist. At first I thought my friend was progressively human, that he didn’t take his racist boyfriends comments that serious. I mean, after all the white guy only dated black men. I figured he couldn’t be that racist. Yet, it always bothered me that their entire relationship was based on the fact my friend was black and that somehow gave the white guy permission to be rude and racially insensitive.

I have dated many white guys. My first boyfriend was white and hot. I met him at a foam party in a club. At first I was disturbed that he only dated black guys, but he grew up in a black neighborhood, went to black schools, so it was just like dating any other black person. The only problem I had with him was that he was very clingy. The thing I loved about him, I never felt black around him. We were in a colorful relationship. Actually race never came up.

Many years later, I dated another white guy, this time, older. He was very much older in his late forties. He used to go on and on how he loved my black skin. I felt like a commodity with him. He was always pointing out some black guy on TV or the streets. I tried to be open minded. Yet, I was completely turned off by him. We never had sex. And then that “gold digger” song came out. He used to play it all the time in his car just so that he could say the word “nigga.” I didn’t get it. I couldn’t even understand why it was so important.

I know black guys who are very adamant about never dating white men. I have a friend who if I told I ever had sex with a white guy would never speak to me again. But he’s an asshole so it wouldn’t matter.

I have been thinking what makes a racist a racist. Is it the insensitivity? I don’t throw around the word racist because I think it’s a legal term. It’s someone abusing their position of power. The dictionary defines racism as “The belief that race accounts for differences in human character or ability”

I have another friend, and I like this friend, I think he’s cool. He is the reason for this blog because our conversations tend to be racially focused sometimes. He’s boyfriend is black. He only dates black. He has a saying that he’s “black by injection” I’m like just because you got fucked by a lot of black guys don’t make you black. Yet, I don’t say anything. I take the snide racially toned comments and think to myself it’s nothing personal. And then I think to myself, is this going to be our relationship like what I had with Richard and like my friend had with his boyfriend. I mean, is he a racist and don’t know it. Or is he just racially insensitive?
Being from the south, I know a lot of god white people who just flat out racist and didn’t know it. They smile in your face and call you nigger behind your back. I think racism is a sneaky disease. Somebody people don’t even know they have it.

The New Earth

Sometimes when you least expect it, you change. It's a beautiful thing.

Forgiveness, part II

Every morning I wake up (since I got fired from my job two months ago) I have to go through my forgiveness meditation. It’s basically because when I wake up I feel like shit. I hate everybody. I don’t want to open my eyes. I feel as if every thing around me is burning down. I’m late on my rent. All my bills are overdue. My relationship is over. And I’m a recovering addict. And then I want to either sleep more or find me a bottle of rum and weed and watch TV all day. But I did that for ten years so that makes me even more depressed that I wasted my life. That I was so stupid. So I go into self-pity mode for another thirty minutes after waking up, I may even cry a little. Instinctly I put the covers back over my head and sleep for another hour or two. I don’t want to deal with the world. I feel as if the world hates me. I feel like a freak. I just want to go back to sleep and not wake up.

An hour later, I started screaming at myself to get my lazy ass out of bed. That I shouldn’t waste my day. That I shouldn’t be so damn depressing and under any circumstances I will not drink that day. I hate drinking when I’m depressed. A depressed drunk is an annoying drunk.

I start my forgiveness meditation. It’s more of a prayer or release. When a negative thought enters my mind, and trust me I have a lot of them, I tell myself to forgive. It begins with me getting out of bed. I have to forgive myself for waking up. It sounds bleak, but when I open my eyes the reality of my life usually come rushing at me. It’s like waking up with the same headache everyday. I forgive myself for not having a better life. I tell myself its okay. And then I have to get out of bed. I hear the phone ring and I know it’s just a bill collector. I get pissed that they call so much because it’s not like I’m hiding money under my pillow or something. I need a job. I need someone to call me about a job. I forgive.

I believe forgiveness is about letting go what we can’t control. If we don’t learn to release we carry the issue and punish ourselves. And I get so tired of carrying bullshit that makes me feel worthless. I refuse to carry it any longer. So when I wake up in the morning, I know it’s there when I open my eyes, I pray that soon it will get better but for right now I forgive. I then jack off and take my shower and get ready for my morning talk shows and sending out my resume.