If we are what we eat...then I'm cheap, fast and easy

I'm about to become one real mean bitch. For those of you smartasses out there who know me that might be tempted to say something along the lines of "how will we know the difference?" -- be forewarned. You don't know mean till you've messed with a bitch on a diet. You will not win. I have recently discovered the answer to the question posted on that cute little refrigerator magnet: "Does my fat ass make my ass look fat?" It has been my recent experience that the answer is a great big YES. And it aint nobody's fault but my own. That food did not force itself upon me like a rapist on a college campus. I shoveled it in hand over fist. Nice thing about being of the male persuasion is that you can loose weight almost without trying...if you give up alcohol. Make no mistake, the nectar of the gods is the glue that holds my 'verse together. However, I can deal with that for a month so I can look like the guys in these photos and make the boys cry.

All this diet talk is a round-about way of getting to the real point (and yes, there is one): Why is it that guys, most especially gay guys, are obsessed with image, looks and weight? The quick and easy answer is that we have been programmed that way by Madison Ave. in order to separate us from our money. True enough. But that can be said about the straight community as well. I guess what I am getting at is why has the gay community bought into it with such religious fervor? I ponder this, because, having recently come out and began going out, I have noticed that this whole image thing is, apparently, a big damn deal.

Recently, I went out to a club with a good friend of mine which provided and excellent viewing opportunity for the subject at hand. It is just plain interesting to examine the young gay male as he frolics hither and yon in his natural habitat. I fully realize that everyone wants to look good and wear great clothes (we're gay, after all - not dead). But what I want to focus on is the next level down. When someone always looks too perfect or is always wearing the just-too-perfect clothes, for me, red flags go up. What is this person really saying with his image? I could be wrong, but he doesn't appear to be screaming "Yes, I'm perfectly comfortable with who I am". Especially when he hangs out in a pack and audibly criticizes the looks and/or attire of others nearby. George Michael once sang long ago that "sometimes the clothes do not make the man". If that is true, what does it say about all the Abercrombie & Fitch clones running amok on any given night? Are they being true to themselves or are they searching for meaning and happiness in something that cannot, nor has ever been able to deliver? Or are they too afraid to look within and see that image is just that - an image? I certainly don't want to be judgemental here. I have been guilty of the very same thing -- wanting to fit in at all costs AND in a "straight" world which is even more hypocritical. The good news is that for most of these young men, there is hope. Age will simply take care of a lot of this. As one (read I) who is approaching middle-age (who am I kidding...I'm here and I'm queer) you start looking at things in a different light. No jokes about the eyes going. The upside is that I have seen a lot of middle aged gay men in great, lasting relationships that are obviously built on more than just looks alone. Age does make it a little easier to look beyond the image and see what is really there -- what really matters in life and relationships. Now, to suppliment my sermon on the superficial...you get two hotties for the price of one. Yea !!!!!

Hmmmmm.....

Not much to write about today. I find that the following quote very adequately describes my alcohol consumption over the recent holiday weekend.

Excess on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents moderation from acquiring the deadening effect of a habit" -- W. Somerset Maugham

Just some eye candy...

Hey -- its my blog...I can do what I want...

America's Train Wreck...this week...

For those of you reading this that know me personally, know that I am not prone to go around bitching about things over which I have no control. Today, I feel the need to set that conviction aside and let 'er rip. Two words: Lindsay Lohan. Four more words: My God in Heaven. The reason that I want to rip this chick a new one is that she intruded on my otherwise lovely Memorial Day weekend on three occassions. Twice she appeared uninvited during conversations with close friends and then she paraded herself across my TV screen, apparently running from a car crash. At first, I was about to loose it and scream who the hell does this bitch think she is running around like two dollar trailer trash and making a fool of herself? But I think a far better reason to loose is is why in the f**k do we care about her in the first place?!?!?!?! I mean really. Why do we care??? I would be fascinated to know the answer to that one.

This girl, barely out of high school, with no apparent higher educational aspirations, exists simply to party. Now far be it for me to poo-poo a party (I did just a bit of that myself this weekend, for which I am now paying the piper) but lets face it - this girl is headed 90 to nothing down a real dark path. I can't believe I'm about to say this but this chick is no Paris Hilton. Paris has famous parents and grandparents and is famous for ... well, being famous. Lindsay, on the other hand, is a "working" actress. I can almost say it without laughing... (oh god - no I can't) As an employed actress, she has a responsibility to show up on time and know her lines. Hundreds of people working on this film rely on her to be present as their livlihood. Not to mention, you would think she would have some respect for an actress with the calibur as Jane Fonda. Now she is uninsurable by any studio. And don't even get me started on the drug use.

But as inexcusable as this train wreck's behavior is, whats worse is that the American public is eating it up. I mean how else else can a no-talent, drug abusing, former Mickey Mouser command so much attention in the media? Something is seriously wrong in a society that is more concerned about her drug-induced car crash than say...a war, crime, or any of the other problems facing our beleaugered nation. But, no -- Lindsay and her ilk seem to be it. I guess we really do get what we deserve... Now I'll go back to being my no-complaining, sweet self.

It's Memorial Day, bitches...

It is time to set our inner child free. As summer officially begins (for us here in Memphis, it began about a month ago) we would be remiss if we did not harken back to some of our sweetest childhood memories that can only take place in the south. Take a moment to sip dandelion wine and discover the magic of summertime all over again.

It certainly was a more innocent time for all of us. Our parents let us stay up late. We anxiously awaited vacations to the beach and Disney World. Summer meant swimming with your friends at the neighborhood pool, riding bikes as fast a speeding bullet, and the popsicle man. Inhale deeply and you can still smell the sweet aroma of honeysuckle as it wafts from the vine entangled in the chain-link fence, mixed with the smell of freshly cut grass. Look at the sky. It is that magical time that rests between sunset and darkness - twilight. What was once a hot and blazing atmosphere is now an aubergine that cannot be described, only thankfully experienced. A sliver of moon hangs low while the silhouette of a bird shoots into the darkness. Lightning bugs blink across darkening yards as you chase them with your mayonnaise jars with holes in the top. The roar of cicadas is almost deafening.

Wasn't that nice. Now, forget about gas prices and war and whatever else that keeps you from slowing down and experience the child-like magic of a southern summer once again. The next three months are yours to experience and enjoy.

I wish you a hot, sweaty, steamy summer. Just keep it safe and clean.

I just couldn't help myself...

Blessings

I was just sitting here at my desk at work, surfing the net and reading all sorts of stuff about other people's lives - some good and some bad...For some reason, it hit me out of the blue as to how truly blessed I am. I am fortunate enough to have my health, after a life-threatening scare, a nice house, great parents and a few bucks in the bank. All in all, I have to say I have a pretty good life. And then my thoughts turned toward my friends. It is here that I consider myself truly fortunate. It is said that if you have one or two really close friends over the course of a lifetime, you are truly blessed. I'm proud to say I'm off the chart. I can think of ten without even trying. You all know who you are. These are people that I love dearly and have shared everything with. Almost everything. It has only been recently that I shared with them my darkest secret, afraid that they would no longer love me. Their reactions far exceeded my apparently limited concept of friendship. Not one turned their back on me. It was me that underestimated them. I only hope that when the time comes I can live up to their expectations. I love each of them and am very proud of them. These days folks don't tell their friends they love them as much as they should and I am no exception. And did I mention how smart they are? They are very, very smart. Smart enough to know that if they EVER mention this to me that I have the ability to transform myself (much like Diana Prince spinning into Wonder Woman) into a fire-breathing, obscenity-spouting, rabid pit-bull (in other words, not a nice guy) that enjoys annoying small children just for the hell of it. Yes, they are very smart.

That Old Time Religion

Well, now that I've come this far (no pun intended), why not just go all the way and tackle the big one and really get myself in hot water -- Religion. At no time in the history of the world has there ever been a time when religion of one sort or another has not been at the center of ... well, everything. Crusades have been launched over it. Wars have been fought over it. Countless people have been slaughtered because of it. Friendships have been destroyed as a result of it. Which brings us to the Southern Baptists.

For the sake of the uninformed or those not residing in glorious Dixie, the Southern Baptists are an offshoot of the American Baptists (or so I'm told). The most important thing to realize about the SBs is that everything is considered wrong. Those of you not familiar with the SBs and their, um, intensity might think that I am kidding. Oh, how I scoff at you in your ignorance. You just haul yourself just south of the Mason-Dixon and we'll just have ourselves a little look-see. And then we'll talk about who's wrong. For starters, alcohol is wrong. Dancing is wrong. Sex is wrong. In some circles, listening to music with a drumbeat and women wearing pants is "just not done". Generally anything fun (Disney, for example) are considered wrong at some level, but drinking, dancing and sex are the big three. Oh, I almost forgot, -- no one loves a fight like a Baptist. They can fight and fry chicken at the same time. I swear. Wait -- that's wrong, too. (I once heard a joke: Why don't Baptists have sex standing up? Wait for it...Someone might think they are dancing.)

Now having said all of that, can you IMAGINE how being gay would be received? LIKE A TURD IN A PUNCHBOWL! That's how. Which is why I have chosen to take the high and noble path regarding my alternate lifestyle -- I just haven't told any of 'em. I know, I know -- it sounds cowardly and it is. Still, being in the process (process being not fully there yet) of coming out, there are just some things I am not ready to face. I never intended to explode "out" to the whole world. Just to the people that I truly love and care about. I figure my business is simply my business. Whereas, according to traditional Baptist doctrine, I am on fast track to Hell because I drink and dance. However, I do not believe God makes mistakes. Dealing with the fact that I am gay has been a source of shame and guilt, most of which was imposed by the church over the course of a lifetime. Feelings like shame and guilt do not go away overnight, just as they did not materialize overnight, but they do tend to lessen with time as we learn to accept and understand ourselves and realize that the church is not necessarily God incarnate. His people are fallible and make mistakes -- lots of them. I believe the way they have treated the gay population is chief amongst them. Human nature dictates that we respond in kind when offended. I think a better response is to look at the life of Jesus and try to treat others accordingly.

Still the way it is...


Creative Thinker

Gods and Monsters

Recently the world learned of the death of Rev. Jerry Falwell, founder of Liberty University and the Moral Majority (which I question if it really is moral or a majority). It has been quite interesting observing people's reactions to this event. Now, I will admit I really don't know all that much about the revered Reverend. Like most people, I am aware that he pandered to the ultra-right, attempting to scare them into casting their vote in the Republican direction. And, of course, there is the big one. The notorious Tele-Tubby fiasco from a few years back. At this point, words almost escape me. Almost. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WAS HE THINKING???? A cartoon character - GAY ?!?!?! Let me say it again: A cartoon character - GAY?!?!?!? I know we been all over this when it happened the first time around and after all the watercooler talk died down, we promptly dismissed it for what it was, the ravings of a way out of touch lunatic. But, now that we have to revisit it as part of Falwell's legacy, it sounds no less shocking or inane. As amusing and stupid (apparently stupid is the new pink) as his vicious attacks on the cartoon community were, his attacks and hatred of our community were far worse.

Now, I will be the first to admit that I am not a crusader. Haven't never been, don't never wanna be. I am not in the least interested in marching on Washington or waving flags. I have far more important things to do, such as sitting on my ass and consuming alcohol. Nor do Falwell's rants and raves affect me in my day-to-day existence in the least. I mean, before he died, when was the last time he crossed my mind? The problem is, he probably should have crossed it on occasion. If for no other reason than to be aware of the state of things, as it were. Like I said earlier, I don't know very much about the man and I am sure that he has done good during his lifetime. Regardless, it is a shame that his legacy is one of hate-filled attacks on a real and imagined community. Perhaps his life will serve to remind us all that we can do better. I guess Tinky-Winky got the last laugh after all.

Still the way it is...

Creative Thinker


*** A note on the title. Gods and Monsters is a film based on the true story of James Whale, an old-school Hollywood director, most noted for directing the classic Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein. It stars the amazing Ian McClellan, known mostly to us fanboys and geeks as Magneto - no explanation needed, Brendan Fraser and Lynn Redgrave in a remarkable role. Do yourself a favor and check this out for a different glimpse into Hollywood of yesteryear. You wont be disappointed and I wont even charge you for the opportunity of having some of my vast cultural wisdom bestowed upon you.

Jeremy Piven doesn't love me...

but, GOD, I wish he did. Who is Jeremy Piven you might ask? Simply put - he is the hottest man alive. In addition to his incredible looks, he is critically acclaimed for his portrayal of uber-agent Ari Gold on the HBO series Entourage. (Blasphemers have referred to him in print as The Pivert - but we wont go there as we know they are haters.)

The title of this entry is a shameless and thoroughly unoriginal rip-off of Mr. Michael Thomas Ford's Collection of essays entitled Alec Baldwin Doesn't Love Me. If you have not read this book, immediately stop wasting your time reading this blog and go out and get his book. You will love it - guaranteed.

But, I digress. Jeremy. My God, what a fine speciman of manliness. Which brings me to the point of this lastest entry. Are there any rules as to what we as gay men find attractive? For me it is Jeremy. But why do I melt into a blithering puddle every time I see him smile? I wish I knew or could explain it, but I can't. We are simply attracted to who we are attracted to. Which reinforces my belif that being gay is not a choice as some would lead you to believe. But that is WAAAAAAY too big of a topic to try to handle right here and now. I may try to tackle that one later. As someone who has just made a few steps out of that damn proverbial closet (I really hate that word), I am learning that it is OK to admit that I am attracted to someone of my gender. Jeremy notwithstanding, the attraction to men has always been there, but the acknowledgement of it was more troublesome. Thankfully, I am at the beginning of a journey that has already proven fulfilling. A dear friend recently noted that if we're lucky, we get about 80 years in this life, give or take. I'm pushing 40, and believe me, 40 is pushing back with a vengence. Now that the curtian is about to rise on the full (God willing) second act, I am looking forward to seeing the denouement of this drama called "My Life". I am learning that it is a journey to be savoured. All that being said, I have one further question...For God's sake people, doesn't anyone have the Piv's phone number???

Still the way it is...

Creative Thinker

My first time

Greetings all --

This is my first attempt at blogging. If there is anyone at all out there even remotely interested in reading my ramblings and musings, let be be the first to apologize for not being a computer geek. (I could barely sign in). I will consider this my first posting, as last nights virginal post was the result of an alcohol induced suggestion during the course of a fun-filled evening. I have been laboring over what to call my little corner of cyberspace. Everything I came up with was incredibly tacky or just plain stoopid. As luck would have it, while standing in line at Taco Bell, attempting to fill by body with the worst possible food for it, I looked down a the book I was reading (mainly to catch another glimpse of the very handsome man on the front). The book was "Going the Other Way" by Billy Bean. The author was a former major league baseball player for the L.A. Dodgers, San Diego Padres and the Detroit Tigers, before coming out of the closet. The reason I was reading this book is that that is exactly where I am in my life. Not that I am a big sports fan, but Billy's book has truly been a revelation for me. Who woulda thunk that a 38 year old, white boy in the South could identify with a major leaguer, but the truth is I can (obviously not about the baseball part). I now look at Billy as a true role model. As was touched on in the book, heroes are created out of circumstances. Role models are those who live a life worth emulating. Billy is my role model. The more I thought about it, the more this title seemed perfect for me. So Billy, if you are out there and ever get wind of this, know that this little blog is in honor of you. I encourage everyone to read this memoir of a great man. For me, it will occupy a special place amongst my best loved books.

For me, hopefully this spot will serve as a place to put down a few thoughts and hopefully (maybe) someone will read it and have something to say. I guess that's all for now.

And that's the way it is...

Creative Thinker

I'm new to this

Hi. I am a 38 yr old handsome man who is just coming out of the closet. I decided to do this blog to document my journey of coming out. You will learn more about me later.