Shower Epiphany- The Solitude of a World yet Sleeping

There is a sadness in being up so early. I've been here many times, many moments and many lives. I've awoken to darkness only to stare out into a rising sun and almost questioning its work ethic, demand reason why it took so long to catch up. It's a stark difference to waking late. The world seems to have left you behind in its pace as you attempt to comprehend what had passed in your slumber and what time you have left to interact with the World.

I've existed in both in many places in my timeline. I've walked the streets in the dead of night and the dead of morning. Many can not tell the difference, but I can all too well. The dead of morning has a Xmas day sort of vibe when in the right neighborhood you too can relive your Twilight Zone fantasies of running down vacant streets screaming "WHERE IS EVERYONE?!?!" Or at least until someone opens a window and imagines that you are trying to relive that one scene in any variant of the Scrooge tale, fat goose included. In the dead of night there is a feeling that the world has ended, but more in an apocalyptic sense where the only humans you'd encounter are almost zombie or do not recognize you as kind. It's almost when you're driving through a destination at night and you stop in the middle of nowhere in many places in this nation, and if you're lucky they won't lynch you for your creamy coffee latte skin, where even if you do interact with humanity, or for what passes for it, it usually treats you as alien as much as you treat it.

And yet, I've spent these mornings, even now as I do not have any particular place to go outside of making hard phone calls and attempting to pull myself out of my past once more in hopes for a future, where as different as it all is there are similar factors that I can find comfort in. I'm usually in the darkest room in silence so loud that it seems to suffocate the outside world. If lucky a bird attempts to disrupt such an oppressive quiet in order to pull life back into the world, even if it's to have it ignore it for its song. I'm holding a mug of sorts, they change with time and place, but a mug all the certain. Even now I as I sip bitter black coffee when I could have sweet and delicate. My face is greeted by a cold morning, not midwest cold, but cold just the same before the radiance of sunlight touches and wakes all with heat and promise. I am alone with my thoughts. Some I continue to have, others I fear I may never contemplate and some I only hope never to entertain again. I stare out into the cold day as it shines off into a distance until the heat touches me once more and I mutter my accusations to the gas giant as if demonstrating some arrogant superiority.

And yes, there was a time when I took it seriously.

With as many similarities of each moment, there are different scenes, places, and times. There was a time where a blue-haired vision would walk over to me and wrap a warm arm calling me to bed, just a bit longer. Others I'm having a French breakfast of bitter coffee once again, this time joined by a cig and a croissant. In another life, I wore fatigues and strapped on my medic bag, knowing that I need supplies, but coffee was best now and I can lose myself in it. Another I walk the dead streets with confusion, loss, and bitter brew in hand trying how once again rebuild my existence. One I'm running through paces and maneuvers for the horrors to come and others I'm simply emerging from an empty bed in solitude and savoring a melancholy existence that most would find heartbreaking and I comfort.

I've lived many lives and had been many people. And yet, they are all me. If I did not live the worst moments I could not become the kind, loving, fatherly person you love me as today. The scars on my person and persona made me what I am. There was a time when I could not comprehend this and my death by my hand was my only solution to a mind muddled with attempting to make sense of horror past. It almost killed me, yet it only made me pensive, sweet, kind, and almost sensually and delicately precise. It has given me mastery of pain and the ability to soothe those who needs comfort. The only benefit I can gather from living through hell is that I can now be for others the person I needed most when I cried out into a cold night for someone, anyone who'd come for me. Now I comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

So I await the rising of the Sun. I await for those of you to pull yourself from slumber, never knowing I stand on the Imaginary wall between you and what ails you. I wait for the world to rub the sleep out its eyes and begin so that I may enter it once more and be part of it. I try to pass enough as human before I leave it once more, usually at an hour most are raging against their sleep and fatigue and I lay myself to be still and silent once more. I leave you nightly to your interactions with each other to wake once more in dark solitude and a cold morning where my early companion is the rising Sun.

Some days I wonder if I can pass on one day without my story being told. Others I think its best for it to join me in the grave. Mystery often times allows you a greater legend. At this point, that's all that I am: Legend. People would not like to know who I am as I seek quiet corners and silent passings of time. I put on a show when able and seek isolation when needed. I do not know my end nor would I ask to. I simply marvel much like today that I could probably rival Bowie with reinventions of self. Funny thing is, I never thought of myself as worth much.

Not saying I'm wrong now, yet.....yet......*sighs and nods, takes sip from bitter coffee*.....I can say I walk with greats and radiate magnificence even if I only reflect it from others much greater than I will ever be, much as the Moon reflect the Sun's light.

I'm not special in any way.

Yet....*smiles and sighs* ,,,,,,I can't believe that I'm here, what I do, and how I helped make things better, even when everything looks dismal and lost.

Peace and Love

Be good to each other.

The Merriment of Progeny who's Levity Rivals only your Own Despite of Communal and Unrelated Trauma or A moment with The Girl

I'm sitting inside of a tight counter restaurant with my daughter known for Southern food in NoHo. This is a bit of a surprise considering that I was told to expect the most amazing seafood. It's a shruggable moment considering my daughter is a bit of a flake that's been chipped off of the big flake that is yours truly. I adore her immensely and she's one of the rays of light in my life. And at this moment in this very claustrophobic counter space that almost resembles half a train car, she 's chatting up our very attentive server. A gorgeous woman with bright brown eyes and the skin of rich obsidian with a hint of a Caribbean accent that brings out much more of her charm.

I'm a bit annoyed considering I haven't seen my daughter in a few months and she all of a sudden said she wanted to meet me for a Sunday meal. I've figured that the time away was due to her work schedule and perhaps meeting a certain someone who makes them feel special even at a time like this. Although her sexuality does give me a bit of a headache only in categorizing who she prefers and who'd she'd be intimate, but that's more of a pet peeve of mine when it comes to categorization and imaginary Ven Diagrams. Either way, I'm watching her interact with this woman wondering if she sparked her fancy and that either she's just very interested in our conversation or it was simply being in close quarters and just passing the time with a bit of a chat.

Yea, I can't read the situation or I'm just trying to negate it. Yea, she's really interested in our relationship and I'm used to being considered a perv on sight considering my daughter has my side of the family's dominant genes that make her this magnificent goddess of form, to say the least. I've overheard many a jerk call her out on the proportions of her body and  in many ways tried to have her embrace her form rather than have an almost destructive puritanical mindset of an army of dicks surging her. We both know it's true and she's more than capable to handling herself against any criticism and rude gesture. It's simply the shock of it all considering that I at times am amazed at how small she used to be and that her giggles used to be the motivation of my life.  I adore her and even now she makes me proud as any person can be for their progeny.

And yet, we have our issues and problems and much soon after we leave the restaurant to find a smaller venue in shade, to hear why she had been missing from my life once more and how we should continue to keep in touch regardless of how hard life can get. The word that I'd rather not mention her get floated around and I hear her tale of difficulty not understanding the value of true friends who run towards you when you begin to stumble and fall. And how our pasts, both filled with turmoil, trauma, and difficulty have taken a cost in our lives that we are beginning to comprehend and gather understanding on what we can do as individuals and as family.

I remind her that although I am her father and I know more and have an abundance of experience, she is the captain of her own vessel and there is a great chance I may not understand her situation. She has ultimate veto. She has the ability to take taking or disregarding my advice as she see fit, and I remind her that we are equals now and that she has a voice that she must exercise with me and others in order to set boundaries and guides for relationships. I know she's a "big girl" and "daddy" won't be there to pick her up at times, but she can come see me for council and I will always be in her corner despite anything outside of murder and how to eat sushi. We laugh and she learned hard lessons that I realized came at a great cost. I was not there to come to her aid because I was seen as father, a title that harms me in this moment, rather than friend. Thankfully her own circle of magnificent individuals came to her aid and showed her the value of a true friend.

I stifled my emotion because I wanted to weep because of what trespassed and I wanted to be there. And yet, I more than understand. Sometimes we do not seek the comfort of those who will pull us up and we hide ourselves in our pain and misery. I'm thankful for these people who did what I would do and she snapped out of her self-delusion that mistrust and pain can put us in. I offered my place in her life, not as one to pass judgment, but as an outsider. I mention how in truth I could not raise her considering her and her brother were taken to Ohio and places unknown by her mother. A satellite parent is only viable if they are able to keep communication. Sadly, that was the first thing to be lost and in the matter for 4 or so years, I've heard stories that confirmed my fears, caused me much heartbreak, and have caused me to burn in impotent rage at what came about by "well-meaning individuals" who believe that their words is beyond law and the cost was grave.

The worst thing about trauma is that it's much like a hand grenade. It does damage and even if some die, some are affected permanently, other can recover and some even were out fo the blast, that trauma took a price from each of those people in the room where none of them were free of harm and without help that moment will dictate the horrors to come. We all started therapy roughly at the same time. We all tried to deal with that grenade and what it took from each of us and what it took from others and how do we move on.

Even now I can not help to think that some 4 years ago I was determined to end my life. I still can see the pain and hurt I was enduring with no exit, held back from pleading for help by social constructs that murder us all in the end. My sole choice was to end it reasonable until someone dear to me had beat me to the punch. And even then I witnessed how my friend took his life weeks before me and the only thought in my head was anger towards him ruining my exit.

And then, I broke. I started to realize that silence was what people knew best from these people. Not their pain, but silence. So not wanted to leave in the same way I broke the last band I had on me and I spoke out. I want to die. I am not well. I have endured my lot and I can not go one to see tomorrow. It scared many and I didn't care. I wanted them to know why I was leaving and why I was going to commit a "sin" towards everyone. To leave them with my horror, not stifling it with the end of my life.

That's the fucked up part, you don't end it, just you. You end your endurance, but pass on the burden and hell of the moment.

I still think of those days. Even now as I am so far from it, I can almost feel the lingering grasp of those desperate and hurtful moments. It's a part of me. It's still with me and I know if I do not remain diligent and honest, I will allow it to take me. Even now how October changed everything and November has proved difficult for years to come, I know I can endure more and that I don't have to. My outsider has told me to embrace my huge circle of friends not as someone who'd protect them, but as someone who need comfort and to be healed. I let myself be weak, even though it's my greatest bane. I can not allow myself to.

And yet, that only lead towards my death.

So I did. I challenged myself and pushed myself and I gained greatly.

I'm happy I did not take my life and for those in my life, who work often as outsiders who pull me out of the vicious cycle my mind can create and heal me with the closest of embraces and a whisper of, "You are ok, I have you."

Even now, I wonder what could have been if I only tried to do what I could not back then. I knew I could not, but now I look back at it as meaningless. Time wasted.

I return you now moments before our leaving the tiny restaurant with hot grill and the magnificent figure of womanhood my daughter was talking up. At our leaving all I could endure was to wonder why I felt so awkward and odd. And yet, I wanted out of the small space and odd air, My daughter asked for this woman's number.

Why?

Well for Dad, especially considering she was apparently flirting with me and I ignore it simply because I was with her and wanted to hear so much from her. Sorry, I was in Dad mode and I'm focused only on my kid. There was a time when, as I reflect that my daughter had always turned away any attention given to me by women, announcing that I was radiantly gay and happy with my out behaviour and lifestyle. She did this because she didn't want her father to find anyone else. She wanted this because she kept hope for her parents reuniting. She did this because this was something she could do. Many times I'd laugh, only being social to ensure that both my children receive as many sprinkles on their ice cream as possible that a beaming smile can receive. And yet, I was always "outed" to teachers, parents, women simply asking, or anyone not male asking me for the time of day. She even told one man that I was straight when he asked if it was true that I was out.

My daughter. And now she's getting her number. For dad.

I know.......my daughter has inherited my taste for chaos, mirth, and shenanigans.

I can not be more proud of her.

Transforming a Stumble to a Running Start or Get Off Your Asses and Get Back to Work!

Tried to write. 

I got nothing. Not only because I have nothing to say because I said it, but because I have nothing at the moment. I am at a loss of anything creative. I'm in Damage Control mode.

I'm busy thinking, questioning, listening and trying to take it all in so that we can make a plan rather than blame one group, unfounded fears, or just moving in the wrong direction. 

I don't have much to express. I'm a bit lost at least in my head. They say there were two types of Samurai. The one who mastered combat on the battlefield and were drenched in the blood of war and the other who studied Zen, wrote poetry, practice methods of combat, refining what they know and trying to understand the working of politics. 

The change from Jitsu to Do. The change from Action to Practice. The killing to sparring. The change from War to Peace.

Well, I'm not very poetic at the moment. I'm not in the mood to project thought to reach, inspire, and cause reflection. I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the one who can relax. I'm not the one to be positive, optimistic, or nieve. 

Life has already beat that shit out of me.

I'm being proactive. I'm rallying moral. I'm reaching out to those from losing hope. I'm speaking with Kids who will vote in two and four years for the next set of elections. I'm demanding people who are busy bitching into becoming diligent, not lethargic. Reminding people that politics is not a chachki that you can just set and forget, but something you have to diligently monitor and speak out constantly. Just because you like Bernie doesn't mean you can let him handle it. You have to keep in contact with the people you sent. 

I'm not interested in poetry. I'm not going to paint. I'm not going to write wax philosophically. This is not the time to lay down and give up but to start mobilizing and minimize the damage.

This is not the time we give up. We must remember the train wreck of the Electorial College and know when we have the upper hand we must change it. There are not only better systems of voting, but they've been modified to prevent such disasters such as our. And much realize if the table were turned people would be speaking up for the Electorial College. Damn it, it cost democratic two elections in 20 years! Get on that shit!

Vote for people who we want. You love Bernie? Why? What was it? Can we multiply that? Can we speak louder? A third party isn't needed in presidential elections, but smaller ones to grow the base. You can't just jump into it, but foster it and grow it from the grassroots. 

We have two years!

I'm going to hold you, us, all of us to that. We have two years to change things and we need to step up our game. It's easy to blame, but damn it we must not. We must analyze and keep planning our next step. IF we win, we plan our next step. IF we lose, we plan our next step. IF things go well, we plan our next step. IF we won and have nothing else to do, we plan our next step. This isn't fucking Disney. There are no happy endings you did not work towards. Even with our work we will fail. That means we push harder until there is no chance to defeat and we push harder until we always win and then we push harder until it's a humiliation and WE REMAIN DILIGENT!

Fucking hell, people. Wake the fuck up, take responsibility and let's get to work.

We have two years and I don't know if that's enough time.

11/9 or the morning after...I'm not in the mood to make puckish titles.

I woke up around midnight to the sound of helicopters. 

Considering that I have to now adult and get up at 5 am to hit my commute as many of you know I must got to sleep by 9 to be functional. Yet, I was awaken by helicopters and also a realized need for patience. Returning from the bathroom I woke up my laptop and silenced the youtube rain vid that I use to sleep and calculate my time asleep. Insomnia can creep up on me at any point and I more than know I need to be diligent no matter what. 

Always diligent. 

It almost felt as a roar from the outside as if everyone in Lynwood was reacting as I opened up my browser and was notified immediately that Trump won. On a distant tv, I heard him walk over to a podium and announce to the world how this moment has come, we must all unite, and we must bury all hatchets. He offered words of reconciliation and of moving on as people cheered. 

Meanwhile, media exploded.

*coughs from nervous reflex*

Burners cheered and blamed the DNC. Anyone not cis recoiled into the fear, shock, and awe of the moment as many of their loved ones announced that Trump is a good thing and they are happy they voted for him and they'll see, it will be all right. One friend responded by asking, "You voted against my rights?"

You can almost feel the heartbreak in her words. 

I was too busy. I was already there. Already prepared.

welcome back

I continued and prepared. In fact, I've been preparing since before Trump mentioned his bid to run. 

I continued on as my messenger exploded with so many people wondering. So many of them fearful and anxious, trying to get hold of what was going on. What can they do? Some already declaring that they were done with this nation who shows no love for them and only the back of their hand. Others pleading with me, pleading as if I can do something, anything to make this right. 

I haven't heard from my children yet, but I'm guessing they're already prepared for this. They have my eyes. Cold, dead eyes of something that most people have not experienced and have not seen. A knowing that hell exists and it is tangible and it comes from the hand of man using scapegoats to avoid responsibility. I'll hear from them soon, but we are already working. On it. We move while most remain stunned.

Always on, you're always on.....that was our agreement, no?

My motions were automatic, yet there was a new system involved: a body clock telling me I have a half hour at best and then I must sleep. I have to adult, I have to get legit, I have to at least go through the motions to redeem what many believe is my potential and path. I notice the clock and agree and continue to read, look up, and by the end of it all, I know enough. I know what I can do now, what needs to be done soon, what needs to be completed continually. 

I don't pray. I've seen too much. I don't scream, I've done too much. I don't plead, I experienced enough. I don't hide or cry, I know it won't make things better. I move while returning to where I once belonged. Where I live now. Where I am the best at what I do best.

You see me.

I take note who needs the most support and tell them I love them. they need to hear that. Many are close to falling apart. Their chances to be normal almost being released by their own will rather than having them tugged at. I tell them I love them, as I tell them now, as I tell you. 

I love you and we will get through this. I will be on the Front with you in mind. I refuse to go easy and I will fight for our lives. I will not let them win reluctantly. If need so I will make their win bitter. We will get through and we will fight.

I try to believe my words. I try. 

I see you. 

I say try because I have to put in work. X always said you have to put in work and you have to put it in now. DMX of course, not the cult. You have to put in work. When we hope for the best it's because we hope we don't have to get our hands dirty and work. We hope we don't have to. We almost plead with this concept of humanity that allows us to continue on. This spirit of kindness and greater good in which afterschool specials are made of. 

Don't be a bitch, get to work.

I write this now with time in mind. I have to adult. October has been kind and magnificent to me. I've accomplished much. I pulled myself out of any safe space to challenge myself to reach out to you, to humanity instead of prepping for continual Damage Control. I've lived in this state since the 90's. It's my second nature. It keeps me on my toes, looking over my shoulder, always sleeping light for that hard knock on the door. 

We see together, outside and on the same side, where you belong. 

I'm used to Damage Control. I lived through Pete Wilson. I lived through Reagan. I lived through W and regressed so much because so many of you were not prepared. I have no choice. I have had a target on me since I realized I was never included. I had decades of enduring. I've scars that I'd never explain and memories that only a bottle can numb. I'm going to therapy and I'm trying to live, not survive and that in short only makes me want to work more.

I've come too far to stop now. And if I have to drag you bastards to protests, I will. If I have to lecture you to be vigilant, I will. If I have a few more scars by the end of this my only option is to hope they mean something from them, but reactive, but proactive. I'm not going to remind you of what is in risk, who is endangering it, and what we are fighting for. 

You should now that by now. That and no one will care if you give it up. They'll take it from you regardless. You either fight for what you love or you give it up and live with that. Either way, we will live with our actions, as I've been stating before I will rather live with the ones with me on the Front rather than standing by or hiding. 

Fuck that.

I've already paid my price. 

Yes, yes you have.

I ask you to put in work so that you don't have to pay yours. 

I'll see you on the front. We will not go quietly.

Peace and Love
Continue to be good to each other. 

Election Eve....not knowing

*sigh*

Going to bed with Trump way ahead. So....yea.....

I have work tomorrow. I'm afraid what I'll wake up to. 

Even if Hillary wins, the fact we had to come to this point where Trump was ever taken seriously....The hate monger who was supported by hatemongers, the alleged rapist, the guy who thinks we're worse off. The guy who brought violence to the forefront.

I go to sleep broken. 

Tomorrow is another day. I'll survive this as always, but hell just when we were getting things nice.

Understanding the Biological and Physchological Remifications of Therapy with Consideration to After-Effect Deviant Sexual Arousal or Everything about my own lust that I was afraid to admit and even recognize

*sits silently and tries to find a way to cut to the bone and get to the point while sipping creamy java. Take a deep breath and breathes it out*

Ok....follow me a bit, because this is kind of hard to speak about for me and it's even worse considering all the innuendos and double entendres. I'm going to be an adult and those of you who know me well know that I'm not one to act like an adult so...yea.....this is...har......difficult. This is difficult for me. 

*deep breath*

There among us are certain people who you can't help to be extremely comfortable with. These are the individuals who for the lack of ceremony and pompous tactfulness for its own sake make you as comfortable. You right now have friends who you will speak to at times of difficulty and others who you simply want to enjoy their time with. There are friends who have seen you at your worse, moments when you wish time was reversible and you could have done something to change it all. They are the ones who find you, pull you up by your love, as Cindi would say, and hold all the broken pieces inside of you until you feel that there is a bit of reality left in your life. We might even ignore people who are trying to help us as our legs tremble under us as we try to take on another onslaught alone. They embrace us, becoming our new spine and whisper in our ears that we are fools to do it alone and that they do care and they will not let us go. 

I love these people and for a better understanding, they are important to me in more ways than I can say at the moment. I will sing their praises and exclaim how their love and time, including 9 months of Crazy Doc, allowed me to do the most difficult of things imaginable to me: Depend on another person. I can rant all day on this and I won't since this is not the topic set to mind. I want to speak about something a bit more......personal to me.....

*takes another deep breath*

I have this friend that I love immensely. I can not begin to say how much I love them. I adore every bit of her and meeting her has greatly helped me in many ways. This person is so amazing to me that she not only embrace my brand of insanity and mirth, but she revels in it. I do have friends who dip into my insanity and many do even submerge themselves in it, yet there are those who choose to take a soak into something they plan to get out of once their time of enjoyment is over, much like a hot tub, and others strip themselves of all restraints and clothing for that matter and jump in fully. 

These individuals who I have been so lucky in my time to find not only one, but a whole line of time to time. Sadly, many if lucky find them and drop instantly to knee and offer their lives to these people. I instead give freely and take freely and see no need to restraints. It frees us to find others who best will fit our lives in those moments, leaving each other in special categories that almost transcend family bonds and not so quite as intimate as lovers. It's almost like finding yourself in a crowd and realizing that they are your missing piece and you hold up your own odd piece that never fit you, but fit them so perfectly.

So I mention all of this because I know some of you will find insult to what I'm going to say or that you also will are willing to sit with me on these difficult moments. Mind you, I did not share with you either because I'M not comfortable, nothing to do with you, but a limiting factor in my own mind where I need outsiders to freely cast judgment and tear apart any part of my thoughts that is incorrect and I will allow it. My ability to make so many changes were not hindered because I didn't have you to help me, but for the fact that I didn't trust you to help me for fear of somehow tainting you with my burden and madness. I had to find an outsider to tell me what many of you have said and even screamed and lecture me on. So I hope you understand. It's not that you are not valuable to me, but that I could not trust myself to accept your assistance. I'm working on it. I'm in therapy. 

Yet, this individual is an outsider. I trust her with this because in my head it can not affect her. You'll see in a minute. 

I've spent the whole day with them last week and not only did she make me comfortable in approaching her about this, but she almost made it enjoyable and ok. It was as easy as it ever was going to be to mention this to another person even before I mention this new can of worms to the Crazy Doc and I haven't either because there were bigger fish to fry (remember October was HUGE for me) or I somehow kind of denied it until I've seen enough evidence that this IS an issue with me. I simply floated it to her since in a matter of going to have a meal I was asked about the health of my prostate, told to stay back since they farted and were rancid, our favorite sexual innuendos when referring to food, and how we both deal when someone BLATANTLY hits on us (She "Pretty Girl" it and assumes everyone is as nice and kind as she is while I immediately deny that it's happening and even help them realize that they're making a great mistake)

And while driving back, it hit me.......a rush of endorphins hit me, not in the adrenaline sort of way where I'm going to have to vault over, punch or throw something, but in a lustful sort of urge. Some of you have seen me have these lately. It's unnerving and even a bit scary to me. I get quiet, a memory usually comes up, I smile and my heart races, and worse of all I get that stupid feeling....the one where I am more than willing to do something stupid, not for the fun of it or to make others laugh at the moment, but a needy, carnal sort of feeling. 

I'll be honest, I've never had these. Ever. 

But you say, "Auggie, you Magnificent Beast and Specimen of Grandeur and Awe, you have an almost vast sexual background. You have been part of situations that many would not only envy, but simply one would be a cherry on top of the sundae that is their existence! What you have not participated in is either inhumane, illegal, or the last abomination unto our Lord!"

To which I have to stare at you and kind of nod my head, almost reluctantly. True, my first kiss was at 6 and my first kiss with a girl was at 13. I was married at 16, divorced at 21, and basically experienced hedonism until my late 20's. I've been several roles and even remembered a few. I have more stories of "Oh Shit, NO" than most people. That and I always adhere to rule of "Nothing before Previous Discussion" and I have to say I'm pretty much accommodating to anyone who I'm intimate with. 

That said, at least more than half of the "interesting stuff" was surprised on me, often time while in restraints. It's the reason why I despise Cosmo and not having a discussion. I've have been in many parts an unwilling participant in a lot of this. Other times, I now realize that my lack of boundaries has been used by individuals who were more than willing to make me into a "plaything". Some of it.....I kind of still repress just for the fact that there was no trust. There was no consideration for me. It's something I'm still trying to come to terms with. It's part being in a cult that has an almost extreme puritanical view of sex that is immensely harmful. Another is the fact that sometimes I trust people to be what they say they are and before I know it the conditions and terms changed. 

Then there was the last time.....that.....that was painful. That fucking broke me. That just was the last coffin nail to just deaden me inside. The entire 9 months of work with Crazy Doc is basically trying to reach what I boxed in inside. To do so, I needed to learn what boundaries are and to create them. Most importantly it's a method of learning to trust again. I honestly don't trust. I don't trust anyone even if they are beyond worthy. I don't put that trust in them because I had trusted many and they took advantage of that for their own purpose. It's the kind of thing that I end up questioning how someone could do such a thing while trying to ignore the obvious answer of "because they wanted this". 

It still fucks with me. That someone would use me. Not the USE part, but the idea that one WOULD CHOOSE TO. I mean, I don't sleep well at night if I was short with anyone or if I gave them the idea that I was anything but kind and happy with them. It still fucks with me that people would treat others that way. If it is anyone else, I will get furious and want to slam people through walls. If it's me....it's....a shock.....I mean...why me? What have I done to you? How do you know I would not have helped you willingly if asked?

*deep breath*

So, yea. I have trust issues. I've always had them. I've always repressed feelings and the such. I've embraced going numb the past 10 years and even working myself into a smaller and smaller box away from even those who I care about for fear of harming them and worst fear of them harming me. I can deal with the shit of the world, I just can't deal with the malice of those closest to me. Even the concept of sharing a bed with someone who has the potential of tearing me apart frightens me. It's why I watch couples, regardless of what they look like, gender, socio-economic background. They have something in which I have either broken in me or simply missing. I can not get around that anymore. It does fuck with me. 

Ok....enough background. This is not my topic.....and I should not try to get away from it. 

So, yea.....I've confided in my delicious friend what I've been recently been dealing with. That out of fucking nowhere I get these....lustful moments. These waves of arousal that just "takes me hostage", as a friend might say. It could be a memory of a moment, a woman walking by, an ad, just anything that reminds me that I have been celibate for almost a decade. And somehow I don't have the ability to shut is off, down, or out. It takes me and I have to use every bit of my will to just not focus on it. I'm not talking about personal moments or behind closed doors. Kind of difficult when shopping for potatoes in a busy market. Two days ago, it was a woman's vanilla perfume in the elevator. It was difficult to focus and to say enough, difficult to walk. 

Is this puberty? I don't think I've ever had these puberty moments. I mean, is any of this normal? I'm not talking about grabbing people or being blinded by lust, but just the "all systems go" command that has me realize that even though time has passed that my equipment is beyond ready, willing, and able to rise to the occasion. No, seriously. This is awkward when walking in exercise clothes, but business casual? 

I've never had those moments when you just had an erection "just because" as a teen. Then again, I was sexually active at 15 and I don't think I've ever wasted one. Now....yea....I'd have to say that my celibacy is on shaky grounds. 

"Well then, Auggie, you viral and conditioned stallion, why don't you take all that pent-up vitality and start having sex!", you declare quite loudly enough to frighten children and swoon the more delicate of individuals. Yea......about that. Not only do I have reservations about just being active for its own sake, but I have this odd quirk that no one would believe me in having. As much as I would love to "cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war", I just can't have anonymous sex. Like as in physically can't. As in, I don't work that way. Oddly enough, after much reflection, I've come to realize that the moments that I have intercourse I'm either taking things slow, after the initial conversation of what is and isn't allowed and such, where it's ......*needs a moment*.....fucking capital.....I'm trying to expand my vocabulary here so that my blood flow continues to go in the right direction, since I've more than understand that writing with lust very much hinders the thought process I need to make sense......

*deep breath* ....ok....

And the other situation has been when the conditions have changed. These are the moments when I'm hanging out with women (yea, sorry. Still CIS here. My first kiss might have been stolen by a boy, but it didn't do a thing for me...why yes, I'm a one on the Kinsey scale) and we're "friends" on a couch, watching tv usually or laughing with a drink and somehow things blank out for a second. One moment I'm watching Battlestar Galactica and the next I'm in an odd place....what changed....wait...what's this again....tongue.....whose.....wait...what....how....what's happening....that was my shirt....what's happening again....huh....wait what......oh...OH....OH! Wait....are we still friends?

So....yea.....that happens. I can honestly say that these moments usually don't end well in the end. Usually, I get an "it was a moment thing" or "I was drunk" or even "it was a mistake". 

*sigh*

Yea, I built enough of a defense system to make sure this doesn't happen, but fuck doesn't it just take a little bit out of you. 

So...yea....that's the issue in the whole and as cleaned up as I can manage. Am I horny as a toad? Immensely. Should I start having relations? Indubitably! Am I? That's a whole lot of NOPE! As much as I'd like to I'm going to have to be a bit more celibate until I can keep up these boundaries and know what is healthy and what is not. To say that I don't trust myself is an understatement. I've been making immense progress and the last thing I need is to make a mistake. Or get into a relationship that is just going to be another train wreck. So I'll just find my way of letting off steam once again by sneaking exercise until I'm exhausted (come on, why DID you think I worked out that much.....duh) and maybe Crazy Doc can help with something or can work his magic in pulling the crazy out of me and such. 

I'm making great progress. I am. Yet.....yea......you know what I mean. So...yea....new experience....very awkward....much blush....

So...yea....

Oh, you're probably asking why my delicious friend is an outsider in this situation? Yea......well, she's in a very magnificent relationship with someone very dear to both of us, different scaling of course. And thankfully we have similar tastes in women with some differences to make our conversations lively and hilarious. So yea, who else to trust than a friend you can check out someone immensly attractive and fist bump afterwards. I know, objectifying women and such and that's none of this. As much as I love to embrace my 15% and realize that a woman's outfit is spot on and gorgeous with her, I can also embrace the 85% by stating that said woman is stunningly radiant and worthy on taking a chance on speaking to with the great chance of reprisal and disappointment. Also, those rare 100% moments where I switch from "wow, she beautiful" and "her shoes are to die for". 

Never disrespectful. Never without consent. Never what Trump said. Fuck that guy, he's rapey.

So...yea.....there....that wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be....still.... I need to buy better slacks.....for the hiding.....of me....so....yea.

Waxing Lyrically on a Hallows Eve Morn as the World Moves

Sitting outside of the tall glass building outside of the Starbucks finishing up my Vons croissant, I'm trying to take it all in since this is still fresh and new to an extent. I'm not new the the area, but the fact that I drive about and hour and twenty minutes to get here before 8 am so that I'm not locked out of traffic and the burden of seeming fresh and clean under stress sweat.  AT the moment I just had a group of upstanding citizens near the area of Beverly Hills with apple cheeks of a chilly 56 degrees morning in bright and cheery costume, a stark contrast to my black shirt and slacks and the only color offered are the brass pieces of my suspenders, black of course.

It's new yet I'm used to it all at the same time. I'm used to of wealth and freedom casually walk by people like me in the day. Over to my left, two men in construction orange start their breakfast before scaling the highrise and begin to wash the many windows that this huge building has. I do not have their constitution for heights and I wish them well. It's hard work and I hope it's well paid as well, especially at the risk of gravity.

In front of me, the lobby of the building is being vacuumed by the building staff for some sort of event among the granite waterfalls that makes this a popular poke stop. I make it my duty to wish them good morning as well as make sure my face is seen, If there's anyone who can assist you in the worst of times it's the people who have to do the grunt work. I'm quite used to this considering I come from blue collar parents who specialize in service. My father comes to mind as  he now in some odd way oversee a hotel near the airport when some time ago, a decade perhaps, he was still the Banquet  Supervisor and rose up from Table staff. He taught me to always be the first there, always shake hands with the new clients so that they know your face, and always keep your support network happy. In a blink of an eye, anything can happen and as bad as that is for the client trying to get their pdf to work to the auditorium filled with people, it's your moment to shine and show why you get there early. He even gets calls after he leaves work, sadly incompetence often has a business degree and a golden parachute.

My father has neither, and for that limitation he's not officially running the hotel. When people say they're looking for experience as well as credentials, never believe them. People will always go for paper with gold leaf instead of scared based experience. Although it was a lesson he never taught me, I learned very well from his example. Paper gets you six figures. experience gets you twenty thousand less than that if you're lucky. People with experience always support gold leaf, even when they install their idea of what will make the system work well, always at a cost fo the workers in the form of cuts and longer hours. It's great to show off the first six months, yet as soon as a year is near the labor union is up in arms once more and the management pushes out the gold leaf to loftier resumes of running hotels and uber management kudos. It takes about that long once more to get things back into shape, usually by people like my father only to repeat the same cycle once the new gold leaf has the same idea and received the same warning as before.

Fun.

Two women are dressed in orange as their favorite lesbian romance fantasy sans the shanking and solitary. Fandoms are odd to me. The best way to get someone to dislike your thing is to try and explain it. Very few times will you ever find someone who is sold by your portrayal. The first season was interesting, but I have to imagine that the prison experience is a bit overlooked. Mind you it's no OZ, but that would only make the lesbianism less sexy, especially with the overlooked concept of the shanking and solitary. So yea....that. Two more men in orange work shirts leave with their boss behind them checking his phone. Supposedly there's someone with "nice bug tits" inside away from my view. I'm going to have to take their overheard word as I continue to type away while the listening to a calm guitar play in Skull Candy headphones. Over to my left another person has walked in with a pumpkin. Wonder if Starbucks would take special orders for fresh spice? Probably not.

I look towards my watch and notice I have less than twenty minutes to go, as I try to see if I have enough time to make this habit. I'm not local enough to fit in a run or workout before work and if I can fit in writing at this time I know I can at least calm my mind if not my body's need to let off steam. This job is almost annoyingly close, as it does keep me on my feet, yet it doesn't provide me with the ability to be comfortable in my workout gear. Once again, shirt and slacks is the definition of business casual as I watch someone dressed in a baseball uniform walk into the building.

Did I mention it's Halloween? Did I have to? I mean, so....yea....that.

Continuing my thought, I know I'm not that important here, because I can't afford the fancy gym with the DJ and boxing ring outside. Shoot, I'm not even allowed to park in the full-time lot and have to reside myself to the $12 a day lot across the street and near the party gym with perfect lighting for the perfect mirrors there. Some people even get here as early as I do, hit the gym and then the office. I'm still waiting on my first check while having to borrow money to make it work. I really hope this works out. I really hope I can get a leg up and a bit closer to financial stability.

Looking over to my watch I know it's time to go in and prep for my day. That and my bladder reminds me that I need to replenish my patience. It's a short entry by my standards, but mayhaps a more frequent one, even though I am sadden and somewhat repulse at the length of the side bar being too long for my liking. I'm more used to longer posts where the bar shortens to an almost nub, but ce'la vi, no?

A new day begins and I must take on my Corperate Thug persona.