Thunderbolts cometh

So last night was my first time attending the Pitchfork Festival and my interest was purely in Bjork.

Unfortunately, about an hour into her performance, including “Thunderbolt” appropriately enough – they called the festival for the day because of an impending thunderstorm (which did break from the heavens minutes after we got on a bus). Bjork summoned the lightening and hence it came.

She was decked out in some weird head piece that was like an explosion between cellophane wands and Pinhead from Hellraiser:


While still promoting the mostly dull ‘Biophilia’ album with it’s lack of melodies and structure, the other songs were truly brought to life and I was very pleased with “Army of Me” and the new rendition of “One Day” from ‘Debut.’

The video below (from the previous Volta tour) just kind of shows you the energy/vibe she puts on when doing the bangers:


The choir she has support her is amazing.

For more pics & a recap of day 1 of Pitchfork, check out BrooklynVegan.

A little Sabotage.


“I checked your phone.”

Instinctively, I was less in shock about him checking my phone than what he found and assumed from it. There was no need to deny my flirtations, my verbal – hell my texted dalliances. Do I think I cheated? No. But I can see how it was a line crossed.


And I realized who I was in that moment of having to face the truth of hurting someone else.

I can sit here and justify it all by saying things like, “I like to keep my options open because I’m usually afraid nothing is going to work out” or “Since XYZ, I’ve been in a constant state of dating with none of them working so I always keep something as a plan B.” Any variation of that is lame. And really, really pathetic/sad.

It became a mirror to me to see how empty I had become, or how not present I was in my relationships. Because I was honestly afraid to invest in someone again because the last time…well, that story has been run into the grown. Rug pulled from under feet, et al.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as ashamed as I do right now of my own behavior. Of what I can control. And how I have such a fucked up sense of self that I either just should have told other people to fuck off, ignore them or…tell them that I had started dating someone and I liked him and I am unavailable.

However, you can’t go backwards. You just can’t. You take the cut, the wound, the scar and move on.

I learned how what I truly want is to commit but that it’s going to be a lot of work on my part to overcome that fear of being devastated while not inadvertently devastating someone else in the process.

Some people just figure out what works for them and that’s awesome. I’m still trying. Or I have figured out the truth and that fact is I’m just not the settling down type – I’m not the groom and maybe never will be.

It doesn’t make me feel less than but it’s something that I desire to have. But maybe it’s just not meant to be. And who knows what other people are going through…it’s always below the surface, the depth of the glacier.

It’s a challenge being so accustomed to myself and to tell the truth, it’s weird for me to be attractive to other people so I turn into a dippy boy who is flattered and yet crippled by the offer of affection/love.

I don’t know what to do with it or how to return. I have a lot of walls. A lot of lessons. A lot of stuff to learn left.

But first – cutting out people who make me feel less than or feel nothing at all. People who become accomplices in self-sabotage and ruination. I’ve been a little too trigger happy. It’s time for the bullets to be dropped upon the floor and the gun to be dismantled.

It’s time for tenderness and not just toward others, but myself. To hold myself up as someone worth investing in and someone whose word means something and to give fully to one person because that’s truly what I want in return. And fear be damned of it all falling apart, because the leap of faith is the point.

I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. As it turns out, I hurt us both. Go figure. Maybe there’s no point of return, returning. And if that’s the case, thank you for what you showed me and what you gave me and what I’m left with by myself. You only made me better.

Still wincing. Letting this wound breathe. And I cannot forgive myself for the wounds I inflicted on you.

Don’t care who gets hurt


I know what I want.

I can’t have it.

But I want it. Now. Bad. Real bad.

Old fantasies return. Old desires flare up from unknown depths. Passions bubble up like lava flows under the surface.

I want him. I want him right now. I don’t care who it hurts.

He’s always slipping in. Wanting to draw my attention from the present, from the one. I always wonder…

What would happen if we just kissed again. Would we both be ruined? Would we both be free?

…I just want the kiss. Who care about the answer.

I think you want this as much as I do.

Or maybe I’m losing my sense of everything. My direction and the wind in my sails.

How do you ever really fully know whose eyes you should be waking up to?



Two weeks ago I was in NYC.

Then this week I went to NYC for an overnight trip that turned into a 4-day misadventure with not enough clean underwear. Lesson learned. Pack more underwear. Always.

It was hilarious/awful/fun/terrible. Native American flute music from the ventilation system. Lost hotel rooms. Surprise visits. Energetic discussion. Oppressive heat. Terrible hotel rooms.

Overall, I won’t forget it.

This weekend is Pride weekend. I’m so ho-hum about it. It feels trite. I think for past generations of gay individuals who lived in secrecy, Pride probably was a great celebration to finally be seen and included and actually have a sense of open community. For me, it just seems like an opportunity for gays to get over-served and be more obnoxious during daytime hours with debauchery that is typically only seen by the moon.

But, to each his or her own. It’s just not my thing. I believe to just have a sense of pride all the time and revel in it accordingly. The last thing a big parade does with half-naked men flouncing about in hot pants and fairy wings is inspire pride in myself.

Call me old fashioned.

Apartment is coming together. Next items are new rug and couch for the living room. Then a bed frame. A bit more prints/art to hang. Then I’ll feel totally like an adult and at ease.

Been reading a ton – despite loving the texture of a book, this Kindle is just making it so much easier to read and commute and travel without the weight or bulk.

Saw John Grant this past week and he was amazing. His music is so odd and peculiar and fantastic and sad. Show was so great. He did not sing my favorite song though. But that’s probably for the better – so I wouldn’t openly weep.

Had been seeing a boy but that has come to an end. Sadness, yes. But understandable. Much to learn and much to work upon.

In other music, this is driving me wild.

Had therapy yesterday for the first time in maybe 6-8 weeks. Good to space things out and get better perspective. I feel more whole than I have before. And steady. And I’m okay to be more self-protective and selective. And see the translations between all my relationships and how they work and can lend knowledge to one another.

Things are good. I am good. Life is good.

Photo courtesy William Hundley/Flickr


A changed perspective.



You choose what you want to see. In life. In people. In yourself. Perspective is nothing except perception married with (or soaked in, however you prefer) lots of emotional layers and subtext and history and baggage that you bring.

So it always feel like a slap in the face when your brain is jarred from the repetition of categorization and processing to see a new reality in front of you. Call it a trick of the eye, but sometimes it’s just a shift in the brain.

And usually for the better.

Because you’re wiser. You know that your eyes can only tell you so much. That sometimes life is not exactly how you see it – something that can either destroy you or empower you.

I welcome the moments of being shaken awake. Because those moments define who you are and whether you refer to fear or you refer to blaze a new path. Bravery personified.

Also coming to grips with allowing goodness in the door and not holding out for history. Being able to let go of the past and truly be in this moment, in all these little moments and just relish in the here and now with an open mind, an open heart, and the ability to smile.


Fresh coats of paint.


New colors and painting can change a perspective, can change an outlook, can change a demeanor, can change an aura.

So refreshing.

Who knew ‘Africa Violet’ would be as calming as it sounds? (Note: Photo above is not my apartment. Salmon is not a color I’d ever use.)

Life is good. This abode is starting to feel like a home lived in. Work is expanding and exciting. A sense of wholeness. A sense of happiness. A sense of satisfaction, however usually fleeting before I’m on to my next mountain to climb and self-imposed hurdles to jump over to attain a better version of myself.

But for now…just peace. Just calm. Just mirth. And letting chips fall where they may when it comes to getting that icing-on-the-cake kind of guy.



This simple thought:

All loves will haunt you for the length of your life.

You cannot recreate them. You cannot replicate them. You cannot return to them. They are finite moments. Unable to be captured but burned into the visceral memory of the heart.

That’s what I’ve learned.

Sometimes it’s so disappointing. Sometimes it’s such a relief. And most of the times you feel in flux and wishing for moments past and moments future that will take you away from the moment you are in.

The fallibility of human cognition.

Knowing what’s come before and what could be without just living for the moment. Chasing the dream or chasing the past.

Sometimes I see myself doing that – for love. For the love I felt. Silly me.


A week of hell.

Screen Shot 2013-04-20 at 10.46.03 AM

This has been a doozy, this week. But it’s led to interesting conversations. First, I want to again give a hearty thanks and prayer to the generous PEOPLE filled with LOVE that risk their lives in order to protect, save and defend the lives of fellow brethren (and yet total strangers).

We have to admit that the idea of ‘terrorism’ is changing from a “them vs us” mentality to a “us vs us” reality. Terror can be homegrown and the radicalism we want to believe is not here in the heart of our nation – well, we’ve now seen in many cases that it’s just not true.

I also have issue with the flagrancy with which we say ‘terrorism’ in blanket form. There are radical acts of violence meant to instill panic, fear and disorder by people who want to be heard and feel that their voice is being drowned out. But don’t believe for a second that each of us has not at some point engaged in levels of emotional terrorism (bullying, name-calling, finger-pointing, shame and blame laying). I don’t believe in a time of innocents anymore.

It hurts my heart to see individuals maimed and murdered for the sake of someone else wanting to make a point. But we must face the fact that these types of acts that have been present in other developed nations would eventually emerge in our own great united states.

Killing innocent people is terrible. And unforgivable. I understand how someone sees it as an only resort to feel seen/heard/understood. I do not respect it, condone it, or understand how someone can reach that place to believe that this last resort is truly the LAST option available. It’s like suicide. I understand how people get to that place and why they make the choice – but I can’t imagine believing it to be the final solution/answer.

Again – empathy can help you go along way in conflict resolution. To just place a label of “crazy” or “insane” is unjust; without truly understanding that the evil you’re looking at started out with the same blueprint as you will always make you see yourself as better than. But think about it: if your life had been different, different and terrible things happened to you, you might be able to see HOW you could fall down the same path.

Are most of us sociopathic killers? No. In fact, most of us aren’t. But the fact is – we all have that same potential to be like the one person who actually is. It’s all in the blueprint.

And that’s the place I always come from. To be understanding and reserving my judgment of the person and their motivations, while simultaneously being INFURIATED about their actions.

Hearing the terrible stories of a child losing his life, a man losing both his legs, two women also murdered…it’s too much. Then the other news of the explosion in Texas which also seemed like an avoidable circumstance. And our government meekly shying away from the gun regulations we desperately need in this country because they’re backed by gun money.

It’s a sad and weird time we’re in, this adolescence of America.

But throughout it all, you see that in times of great tragedy, the human resilience to overcome and unite with hope toward a better tomorrow regardless of how shitty today gets…it’s beautiful.

That’s why this song is perfect for the spirit of all of us. We don’t ever give up, despite the days where we just want to. We persevere. We survive. We live. We learn to take the punches and remember that we’re all in this together. That as disjointed as we make ourselves, as independent as we want to believe we are, as uniquely different we feel we are – we’re all in this together.

We need one another. We need the weeks of hell to remember this. We need the moments of heavy tears to shake us up out of apathy and remember that we came to this nation out of a spirit of radicalism that would foster freedom and unity and acceptance and representation for common good of all.

Don’t lose sight of what we can learn about ourselves and others in these dark days. And how we must remember that even if our steps are small, we still have to take them every day.

Photo courtesy Kyle Thompson/via Flickr

We need a resolution.


I tweeted this yesterday:

As I get older, I realize there’s no such thing as closure. The reality is you can make peace: not for or with someone else, only yourself.

I sometimes what the most sacred betrayal is. Obviously, many others have thought this to. All you have to do is look at Judas, who literally sold Jesus into death.

But does the betrayal come upon the act or upon the internal choice? When you betray your own morality and at what point do you have to make a choice that could impact your relationships with yourself and ultimately everyone else?

Sometimes you have to make the argument in your own life of who is your Jesus and who is your Judas. Who will be there to walk with you into a life filled with purpose and self-fulfillment and who will be there to walk with you into the depths of personal sacrifice at the cost of losing it all?

Like wolves in sheep’s clothes, it’s very hard to see how people will impact your life. Do they act as agents of positive change, supportive of growth and enlightenment and evolution? Or are they chains of burden, filled with weight of blame, shame, guilt and degradation? It’s so hard to tell.

Funny that this tweet and post sat in draft for so long and had nothing to do with the rest of this thought – but there’s some relation. At the end of the day, you have to look to your own center, whether that be spiritual or logic or emotional, and decide your path. Life will offer you up no explanations, only options of how to proceed.

Choices that lead to choices that lead to choices. None are wrong. None are right. Some fit with your goals. Some don’t. Life does not accept auto-pilot. And if you want to live that way, life will eventually break you. Life wants someone with fight. To live is to persevere and maybe the entire point is to find the peace and the joy in the purpose of actively living. It’s not to fight against death, it’s to be present of mind with this moment.

I’ve come to realize that there is no one to tell you what you should be doing – as much as we all want that person to just give us direction. It doesn’t exist. Or if someone is giving you direction, it’s a grand feat of puppeteering.

I choose to let go of the strife. It’s all for nought. I thought that in order to feel success or accomplishment, you had to OVERCOME. You had to fight. What a youthful construct to believe in. I’ve defined what life means to me and how I want to proceed.

And to that point, it’s become much clearer as to who will be part of my life to allow that to happen and who is afraid of this level of honesty that will try to put me down, interrogate me, or impress upon a different set of values that I should live by.

Trust is probably one of the most intimate things two people can share, even beyond sex. And it’s a sacred bond. I do not hand it out lightly. I do not receive it lightly. It is earned. And it is worth the earning.

It takes time. It takes patience. It takes empathy. It takes transparency. It takes bravery. It takes honesty.

To betray someone is to cut them to the core with no sword. It’s irreparable, but can be forgiven. And it takes a big person to offer up that level of forgiveness. But we never forget a broken bond. Ever. We never forget that feeling of having the rug pulled out from underneath our feet on a spiritual level.

But if you can find it and be gifted it – it’s amazing. And that’s the lesson. Sometimes it’s less about love and such. Sometimes it just has to do with trust. Sometimes they come hand in hand.

Fact is you cannot expect someone else to define what this will be, what it will look like, what it will mean, where you will find it and how it will evolve. You just have to have a bit of blind faith in humanity. And then be able to take what you’ve learned and apply it as you age.

Everyone knows how to hurt. But it takes a big person to choose to heal.

Photo via Jon Jacobsen.