June 30th!

Birthday wishes go out to my favorite female American Idol contestant, Fantasia, and Summer Olympian, Michael Phelps, (shut up Hester!) 23 and 22 (respectively) years young today!

Changes

Made some changes to the blog...again. Frankly, I'm tired of people coming here to look for porn. I've temporarily removed the labels to discourage people looking for the "hot stuff", but they'll be back in a few days.

Early on, when I wasn't sure what I wanted my blog to be, I did more picture posting than actual thought. Now, I'm trying to get away from that. Oh sure, I love the sight of a beautiful man, true...

Last night went to a party, drank waaaay more than I should've, and ended up sleeping over. Today was rather mellow except for having some Cop follow me home and running my license plate! I guess dude thought since I drive a nice card with a disabled person placard, I must have stolen it. Loved the "my bad" expression on his face when we reached my house and he saw my gimpy ass get out of the car! Uh-huh. I hate cops.

Besides that wonderful moment, went to the library, ran errands, paid bills (such joy), and puttered around the house. Overall, a rather mellow day. and I feel good. Gotta get some supper in my belly soon cause I haven't eaten a damn thing today 'cept an Asiago cheese bagel.

Tomorrow's plans include going to church with Tamodi, her daughters, and her mom. Should be interesting... haven't set foot in church in well over a year! I'll probably spontaneously combust or somethin' crossing the threshold. I'm nervous as Hell about it. Not so much over God hating me, I know He loves me, but His congregation is different matter.

Given attitudes some Black churches have towards gays, apprehension doesn't do justice to my uneasiness. Been to Tamodi's church once or twice before. It has more of a traditional Black church feel, like my home church, than the MCC (Metropolitan Community Church) gay church I occasionally attend. But going to a predominantly heterosexual church, um...There's no question of my sexual orientation, as someone eloquently indicated, so I might stick out like a sore thumb tomorrow, but I'm gonna make my best effort to get there. We all could use more of Faith in our lives, especially me.

Derek Madness...

Feel like a posting frenzy this afternoon, so I decided to post more photos of Derek Jeter. Hey. After all the introspective posts lately, do we deserve something lite? Besides this will satisfy those folks who just come here for the pictures. Sorry to disappoint, but my blog isn't about porno.

Wish there was a way to have the three Porn sites stop referring traffic here. While this blog has it's quasi erotic moments, it ain't about nekkid men. So if that's what you came here for, you're sure to be disappointed. Scoot over to the other blog for that...

Derek!

OK, so while I'm the subject of Major League Baseball, shout out goes to New York Yankee Derek Jeter, who turns 34 today. It's doubtful I'll get to see him at the current Yankee Stadium this year, given my finances and the cost of ballpark seating.

Oh well. I hate driving to New York anyway. (Yeah, hear the sour grapes tone in my words...I'm bummed out not being to go. This sucks!!!) The five boroughs are too intimidating in my humble opinion.

Here's DJ! Hope his day is somethin' special.

Chacón Pummels Wade

Sometimes it shocks me what goes on in the minds of professional athletes in this country. Other times, it doesn't.

What's frustrating is why so many Black athletes get caught doing stupid shit they know if they get caught, they'll get absolutely crucified for doing it! Lord. My people, my people! Just keep your nose cleeeaaaan. If you can't do that then, just keep your business as discreet as possible and please don't do something so foolish it makes us all look bad.

What am I talkin' about? Well I got both a news blurb in my email and a phone call from Miss T this morning on how Houston Astro's pitcher Shawn Chacón has been suspended indefinitely for insubordination. Apparently he slammed General Manager Ed Wade against the floor!

Now Lord knows, as a Phillies fan, I have no love loss for the former Phillies General Manager. I personally think Ed Wade is the Anti-Christ, the personification of evil! But there's never any excuse for violence, yet I can't say that Wade didn't have this coming to him in some respects.

My firm conviction stands the Universe is balanced and eventually what we do, good or evil, catches up with us. Yes, there is Karma. Perhaps the worst GM is the history of baseball, Wade is a ferret of a man who's tenure in Philadelphia was less than stellar. I won't say he had this coming to him, I won't. It's not my place. Let the man's actions and resulting consequence speak for themselves...

Reading the Yahoo News article, I could only shake my head in disbelief. You shoulda kept under control Shawn. Now, his career hangs by a thin threat. Chacón probably won't pitch again in Major League Baseball. Let's hope this won't be the case.

Chacón, who is half Latino/African American, has played for a variety of ball clubs, notably the Colorado Rockies and the New York Yankees. Carefully reviewing through the news blurb, a I tend to sympathize for Shawn. As I said, Ed Wade is evil! He's a malicious man with attitude disguised as the "loving father-figure" GM who is sooooo concerned about his Club's well being! Bullshit, ask any Philadelphia Phillies fan about Wade's stay here! "Dead" Wade came across as an arrogant, pessimistic man with a huge Napoleonic complex. (Dude seriously has a huge head with Mickey Mouse ears, and seriously resembles a ferret, but I digress.)

Many will remember the problems the early 2000s Phillies club had in their clubhouse. I attribute much of that to Ed Wade. Any fan can easily recall the countless closed door meetings between managers and players or recall players fleeing the Phillies in a mass exodus.

Again, most is responsible due to Wade's tyrannical general management. Some may indicate Larry Bowa's coaching during this period had a part, but in my opinion, all these situations were solely mishandled by Wade's inept abilities! Sure, Bowa is another baseball hot-head, often extremely volatile, but he was and is a man of integrity, devotion, and passion for his sport. I have the utmost respect for him (Yup! Met 'im and have his autograph...before you ask!)

Anybody recall the whole Scott Rolen transaction? Or the JD Drew fiasco? These situations began waaaay before Larry was Phillies' manager, but did occur during Ed Wade's watch.

Anti-Christ, people. Say it with me. Ed Wade is the Anti-Christ!

Let me reiterate, there's no excuse for violence. None. What I'm just sayin' is I can totally see Wade pushing Chacón's buttons. However, Shawn shoulda exercised a measure of self-restraint needed. Baseball is considered a gentleman's game (it's "an old white man's sport" my Grandmother says. LOL). With any disciplinary situation in baseball, or any other sport really, you need to take it on the chin and suck it up.

My hope is Shawn Chacón's career ain't over. He doesn't need to be penalized for a mistake in judgment. Other players have done worse.

I'm NOT agreeing with his actions, but see there's two sides to every story, and remembering Ed Wade's behavior in Philadelphia, as I clearly do, Wade more than likely instigated the matter.

I hope the good and loyal fans of Houston aren't fooled by Wade. Look at Houston's current record. They're way under .500. Wade is stating the incident is an internal matter. OK, why the apparent cover-up? This needs to be investigated by officials of the MLB. Someone needs to discredit Wade! Ferret! You need to go back to Disney World's and see Mickey Mouse. He's complaining you've stolen his look!

No doubt, Chacon will be the villain for a long time. Brother was wrong, yes, but those on the inside know the 'real' Ed Wade...Watch your backs Houston Astros!

What do you think? Check out the link:

Astros suspend pitcher Shawn Chacon indefinitely

Oh, Hell No!

Looking back over my life, for what it's worth, I'd much rather been spanked as child. But no. My parents always tried to talk things out and therein, lay heavy ass, life memorable, guilt. Teaching my sisters and me a lesson.

Many an afternoon or evening was spent sitting before the original Council of Bitches; my mum and dad. Now some of you who were spanked, might wish you'd been given the "talking to." Phttt. No you didn't! Unlike the pain from the belt, switch, extension cord, shoe, blah blah blah...(a child of the 70s here. Whatever was close, worked!) that pain eventually wore off. My parents made the simplest in fraction seem a capitol one offense and talked until the were blue in the face. It was monotonous!

To their credit, though, my parents did instill values to my sibs and me. We understood the concept of right from wrong. When to say "please" and "thank you" "yes sir," and "no ma'am." Unlike some of the heathen Hell-acious children I see today, my generation learned principle and respect as children.

I find today's children are wild hellions set loose in the streets to do whatever damage to society they can without consequence. I was out and about the today and saw a little child running around all across the grocery store, actin' a fool. Her mother, her Black mother, was lettin' her tear around like nothin was wrong. You might be saying, "How do you know she was the girl's mama?" Cuz the brat was screamin' "mommy" at the top of her lungs and fussed at the woman in question, that's why!

Bitch! Did this mother loose her damn mind an' self-respect? She was around my age bracket, somewhere over 30 for sure, so I know her mother had to have taught "Mommy" when she was a little girl! Why is "Mommy" letting this child make us , and you know what exactly I mean by us, all look bad? I've never found myself more in a position to correction someone's child before until today. I wanted to walk up to Mommy and yell "Come on now girl! You know we were raised better'n that. Discipline your child!"

But despite being a gay man with class, first and foremost I'm a man, and it would be my place to correct the woman. Plus we live in the 21st century, ain't trying to get myself hurt, arrested, or all the above. So I went about my business, shopping, complaining the whole time. I wish Tamodi, Miss Pam, my cousin Ronnie, or some self-respecting Black women woulda been around! I know a woman couldn't let that shit go. She'd have to speak up. Damn straight!

Whatever happened to pride,respect, and not lettin' your kids embarrass your ass in public? My generation had its "punishments" but you always came away from it having learned something...YOU BEST NOT DO IT AGAIN!!! While the punishments were annoying as all get out, you knew after it was over to keep your ass inline or else you'd be right back there again. Ha! I guess I'm missing the ways things used to be. But I suppose every generation says the same about the succeeding generation of children.

Dang! When did I turn into an old-head fuddey-duddey!?!? LOL!

The Unconditional Truth

Blogger note 2/15/2009: I am reposting this after careful consideration. Post was removed due to critique and I felt I needed to re-evaluate this. Been awhile. But what I wrote is what I was feelin' at the time...C'est la vie.

There are days when the words flow out of my mind, through the keyboard, and onto the blog. For the last few days this hasn't been the case.

I'm suffering from a case of writer's block and face an inarticulate moment. I dunno how to place my thoughts, with feeling, on the blog, and not sound so childish, elementary, and emotional. True, there are my inspirational moments when I can convey everything rattlin' around upstairs eloquently. Today, try as I might, each word resembles a child's reader.

Phttt! This is bullshit. I will do my best to blog my inner conflict.

Since Saturday, my mind and heart have been battling over self-esteem and security. Sunday, I simply bottomed out and needed to just wallow in misery and cry until I could regroup. My parent's visit last weekend, while enjoyable, was taxing. A deep funk settles in days after their visits. Each time I'm around my mum and stepdad, I regress. Their skepticism and disapproval weighs heavy on my soul. Too often, I find myself carefully choosing my words, fearful of being chastised or lectured by them when they're around.

A parental visit is such an ordeal. When they come, beforehand, I go through a whirlwind to clean my house, make sure nothing offensive is out, and present myself for inspection. Not overly concerned about my lifestyle "tastes," I usually just hide my copies of The Advocate and take down the naked black men postcards on my refrigerator. I do, however, draw the line taking down the artwork hanging on the walls. That shit is a pain to rehang and level again. Oh brother please!

Additionally, if you think I have the time or the inclination to hide all my books by multiple gay authors, oh honey, no! I'm not havin' it! If questions arise, good! At last! I can go on, finally, and live my truth. This routine is irksome and really addresses unresolved shame.

So why not just come out to your folks, Ian?

Easier said than done. Given my mother's displeasure and hurt at my father's own sexual proclivities, saying something about my sexual misadventures would drive her well over the edge. It would only exacerbate the complex relationship I already have with my mum, which at best, can be described as tedious. I can only imagine the look of hurt, scorn, and disapproval; the whole sense I let her down. The last thing I need in my life now is more ridicule and scorn. Aw, Hell no!

What helps me to get through, is that on some level, she has to know. My mother just hasn't come to terms with dealing with a same gender loving son. One could even argue, to a point, she still has a son interested in women, just not 100%. I occasionally date and sleep with women (and yes I'm always upfront with them. Fortunately, I know more than a few bisexual women). Pondering "coming out" to my parents brings nauseous angst. It's the last closet door yet to be opened. With good hope and faith, I want to have that conversation sometime this year. Just not now.

Sometimes, I catch my folks staring at me with vacant discordant eyes, like they're trying to analyze my manhood. I'm not sure if this equates to them questioning my sexuality, but definitely my masculinity. My neighborhood back home would call me "soft" or a "punk ass." Sadly, I've heard these worlds come out my parents' mouths before. There is some real negative energy flow on the topic of male homosexuality. Oh they've no problem with gay women, but gay men? Mmt nmm. Not in our family.

Questioning my own mannerisms, well, lately even I deliberate over my masculine worth. Not that I equate sexuality with manhood, I don't, but I do have my "grrrrrl" moments, something I agonize over. In order for me to come forward about my personal truth, I need to be 100% secure in myself. Regretfully, I'm not there yet. Some internalized homophobia lingers and it annoys me beyond measure. I'm sick of dealing with these issues and having to jump through hoops!

At 38, I didn't anticipate living in the shadows with my family. I wanted my life well established and confident. Can I live my life without approval from others? Why do I have to have everyone love and like me? Isn't my own self-acceptance enough? Obviously not.

I've always sought the need for countenance from others. Given how my childhood unfolded, so many mixed messages were instilled in me. Fear and self-loathing dictated many of my actions through my teens and young adulthood. In my 20s, I thought I'd finally reached the limit and let my soul fly. Simply, I got tired of pretending to be someone I wasn't. Yet, whenever I'm around my folks, I turn into a sycophant, agreeable little child, afraid to stand on my own decisions. I feel too embarrassed to be myself around them. I won't assert myself.

I confess, that with my parents, I still attempt to be the dutiful responsible son. The possibility of losing their love and support frightens me. I'm not sure I could handle the rejection. Factor in my own intense loneliness I've been feeling of late, and you got a fine mess going on. My existence would be pointless. Just brand me the son who tore the family apart. I've been able to deal with ridicule and laughter from strangers and friends, but not from my family. Underneath it all, I'm just a little boy who is seeking unconditional love.

Even with the rebellious periods in my life with careless and reckless sexual behavior, denigrating vice with alcohol and drug abuse, I always knew the limit, never pushed the envelop beyond my parents' final reproach. I've attempted to live my life as loyal, compliant, and worthy to continue to gain their love. Each action, each word, each desire, when reviewed, has been weighed against my parents' approval. It's been a delicate balance. Believe me, I heard enough times from both my mum and dad, "stop with all that white people mess!" whenever I showed interest that didn't meet their proper black standards.

Race issues in my home growing up was always complicated. Even though my mum is biracial, my stepdad isn't and there never was any question to being black. No floundering. Period. Be black or be nothing at all. As I've gotten older the attitude has relaxed, but I see them pushing the same message on my niece. Bryanna, who goes to a Catholic girls school, has mostly white girls as her peers. Naturally, she's picked up on some of those "white people" mannerisms and speech. Poor child! I've caught more than once my mum and dad cuttin' eyes at each other or sounding under their breath. I usually throw sister-girl a life line and talk with her. Being a linguistic chameleon, I can act and "talk" white with the best of them. Too, thank God, my niece is learning French so we have conversations in either French or Spanish where she can be herself. My parents speak neither language.

'Anna has this much going for her though, she's gonna be straight. At 13, she's comin' into her own, puberty wise, and boys have just entered on her radar. Unlike her older cousin, Tomas, and me, her uncle, she escaped the family homosexual gene. With my nephew, there is a straight line of gay or bisexuality in my family... my dad's dad, my father, me, and then Tomas. So you can't tell me being gay is a choice. It's genetic. That's conversation for another blog post, however.

Messages about being gay cropped up from time to time in my youth. Those lectures were never pretty. Once my mother found pictures of men under my bed and I got the lecture of a lifetime. "Don't you feel mixed up and confused?" You'd thought I've committed some crime! So I learned to dance around sexuality in my teens and threw myself wholeheartedly into girls. Fortunately, the sexual molestation stopped right around 13 or abouts, therefore I wasn't acting out homosexually, so the sexual lectures were few, far, and in-between. Thank the Lawd. Till this day, I try my best never to use "mixed up and confused" in a sentence. It brings up too painful memories when I do.

In my 20s I learned to hide my shit very well. My rage at having done this is astronomical. Why did I live for someone else? If only I could've accepted myself sexually, had unconditional support, my journey would've been so much easier. Instead, I suffered at my own hands for many years. I didn't come clean with myself until I was 26 and well invested in therapy. I came "out" in my personal life at 29 once and for all, which also ended my marriage. (Another post for another day)

I ask myself, with regard to my parents, is my masculinity really on trial for being same gender loving? Is there something deeper to the issue? Of course, I know there is. It has everything to do with unconditional love and approval. Beneath it all, I'm that wanting little boy. I don't feel loved. It explains why so many of my relationships with men (and women) have been so dysfunctional, so unfulfilled. It explains why I constantly put others before myself, because I just want that love, and by giving my all, I hope others will give me the love I've been searching for..

To my parents' defense, they don't know the broader picture of everything I've lived. I doubt very much they're aware of what my brother-in-law did. It's dubious he'd be alive if they did. My stepdad, even though he wasn't our biological father, treated us like his own. Dad was very, VERY protective of us. I've never uttered a word about Emilio's part in my molestation. My mum knows about Stuart, my father's boyfriend, but she doesn't know about my grandfather, Emilio, the babysitter incident, or anybody else. Those are secrets, I hope to keep.

I've had to live with difficult decisions, many made out a necessity for self-preservation. Now, as an adult, I find myself only wanting and desiring a cohesive me. I want to be healed, happy, and living my truth. I want to delight, be glad, and accept who I am in the years I have left. No more time for misery.

OK. So what does that mean? Living my truth? How do I accomplish this and maintain integrity without compromise and self-sacrifice? By being honest with myself and others, I suppose. But for me, the "others" doesn't include my parents. Yet. Worse case scenario is I lose my family. It something I'm not prepared for, but...

God Grant Me The Serenity To Accept The Things I Cannot Change
Accept The Things I Can
And The Wisdom To Know The Difference
Amen

By withholding vital information about myself, they're missing a part of me. They've missed the few decent relationships I've had with guys who could've been a part of our family. We don't have a bad family, it's just as effed up as er'rybody else's. To live my truth, I need to grab life by the balls, stand up to fear, and just accept me as I am (I hear Mary J in the background folks).

To be complete, acceptance might come at a cost, but without any reservation, I need to love myself unconditionally. I need to, me, myself. Accept all those things that have placated me over the years; racial integrity, sexual orientation, desirability, intelligence... all that I have to give. Until then, I'll continue to feel incomplete, always having to hide my true self. Have I been hiding in cowardice? Probably.

Sigh...

I've put way too much out there again. So before I bring this looooong post to a close, I thank you, whoever you are, for taking the time to read this. I'd like, if you feel so inspired, if you're an "out" gay person with your family, to feel free to email or comment on any suggestions you might have for me so to achieve resolution to my own situation.

Yo! Especially my fellow black gay/SGL brothers out there! More than a few of you know and understand exactly where I'm comin' from. How did you get through??? Help a brotha out! LOL

This was perhaps my most challenging post to write to date. I started this a little after 9:30 and it's now 3 o'clock!!! Revision, revision! Proofread, proofread! Again, thank you for reading and remember to live your own personal truth, whatever it may be.

May the Creator give you special blessings, now and always.
-Ian

The Man Underneath

Regular posting will resume tomorrow. My media blackout only lasted 8 hours, but was enough time to regroup. Emotionally and physically, I'm drained. Yesterday's respite was well spent for spiritual cleansing and emotional detox. I'm not 100% recharged, but not necessarily at the bottom of the well either. Nobody wants to deal with sad sack, not even me.

Today, I constructively muddled through unresolved angst and there is a post forthcoming, but I'm still in congress with my inner child, so it'll have to wait. The healing process can be a bitch, can't it? But in the long run, it's all good. Right?

Till Tomorrow,
-DT

****Greg, Heinz, Vince, Muhammad, and David...I will respond to your emails in the morning. Thanks for the concern and correspondence. As always, it's much appreciated!

Albert Pujols

Monday Men

Media Blackout

For at least the next 12 hours, 24 if I can make it that long, I'm doing a media black out. That means no connection of any kind to electric media, printed media, and so forth. No Internet, cellphone, television, radio...nothing!

Why? Well, partially because I'm in a funk, a deep funk this time and I just want to be left alone to feel sorry for myself. Parents visited yesterday. Is that enough said? But it goes beyond that too. I just feel dissatisfied and unworthy of everything and everybody Issues are going on that I can't begin to discuss with any of my Friends, simply because none of them would understand, And it isn't even something I feel I can go to the Creator with either. Just bummed out. So I've decided to use my one Friends example and hibernate today. I closed up the blinds so the sun won't get in and the air conditioner is on.

I'm crawling under the covers now. See you tomorrow.

Who Am I?

I received an interesting email from a follower of the Axe who commented on some the men I've expressed attraction towards. Said emailer also questioned my racial pride, to an extent, remarking how some days I seem more "white" and on others I seem more "black."

"Exactly who are you and who do you want to be?" was their question. I don't think it was meant to be arrogant or aggressive, just questioning, since along with the questions came ample praise for opening myself up as I do on the blog.

Well, I respect the person's questions, and I like questions, so don't hesitate to ask if you need clarification on things. This is why I blog, to share, connect, and relate. Already several of you have praised on my courage to open my soul. As I've mentioned a few posts ago, this is a process I'll share with you together.

The answer is simple, I just wanna be me and I am who I.

Now, for the record, I consider myself "Black." Always have, always will. My skin complexion is usually honey brown to copper colored (Red, baby!), although now summer's here, my skin has darkened. I would be remiss if I didn't clarify my racial heritage. I am not biracial. Nope. Can't claim that in the least. What I do claim, and if you read the header above, is to be multiracial, which is the truth.

"...ramblings from a sometimes gay, sometimes bisexual, rarely straight, multiracial, multi-ethnic, black man discovering what it means to live..."

Yeah? An what exactly does that mean, Ian? As I said, I am not biracial. Bi- anything indicates "two" halves. If one of my parents was Black and the other White, then, yes, I indeed would be biracial. Said situation is not the case for me. In plain and simply terms, genetically speaking, I'm a mutt.

What do you do when two biracial people have children? What do you call those children? Hmm? They aren't biracial anymore, especially if those biracial backgrounds stem from different races. Therefore, you have multiracial. Add to the confusion most Americans have differentiating race from ethnicity, you have multi-ethnic. That's me. Both of my parents are ("were" since my father is deceased) bi-racial. Technically, my father was a 1/3 of this- and a 1/3 that, but you get my point.

I have Irish, Native American, Cuban, and African American ancestry. To call me "biracial" is incorrect! So, when I'm being cheeky, yes I will use multiracial, but as I said, I'm proud of Black lineage, so I identify as African-American. This in no way disrespects the other ethnicities in my family, perhaps elevates one over the others, but C'est la vie. Anyone who is in my situation and identifies with being "Black" understands. E.J. daughter is in a similar "ethnic soup" situation as I. She perhaps understands.

As to my penchant for lighter complexion men, I don't deny I have my fair share of brothers I like who are light-skinned (Dan O'Brien, Jason Taylor, Jason Kidd, yadda yadda, yadda). In turn, though, I love my darker-skinned brothers just the same (Djimon Hounsou, Taye Diggs, Omar Epps, etc, etc,etc). I feel I talk about everybody equally on the blog. Haven't I?

What I hadn't realized, until someone very close to me pointed it out, are how many men I find attractive are from mixed racial/ethnic backgrounds. Interesting. So what does that say about me?

Hmph. I wonder? I suppose it just means I'm queer who likes a wide variety of men. Black people, whether "pure-blood" (Black folks are mixed with somethin' given American history. So what is pure Black anyway?!?! Nuff said ) or mixed, come in a wide variety of shapes, sizes, colors, and hues. I love men. Period. So get over it! Ain't no discrimination going-on on my part. That might be your hang up, but it isn't mine!

I am who I am. I love all you brothers from High yella to red-boned to midnight dark. Now I just need to find the right one beside me as my life-partner, and er'rything will be fine. Ha ha!

Midnight Love

Because Black love, in all forms, whether gay, straight, or lesbian, or bisexual love, is beautiful.

Whatever

By Jill Scott

You pulled some tricks out your sleeve last night
Everything I fantasize about
You had me climbing up a wall
How many ways was God called
You represented in the fashion of the truly gifted
You put it down last night
Knocked me out then had me dreaming bout waking up, alright!
Do you want some money baby?
How about some chicken wings?
Do you want some fish and grits?
I'll hurry and go get it


Whatever , whatever, whatever, whatever, whatever, whatever, whatever, whatever, whatever, Whatever baby, Whatever baby....

Whatever , whatever, whatever,
whatever, whatever, whatever,
whatever, whatever, whatever,
whatever, whatever... Whatever, ohh hoo yeah yeah

We made a groove last night
A poignant rocking forth and back alright
Anything I can do for you?
Just ask sometimes you wont have to
I'll be happy just to make you happy
And that's true
Oh
We made powerful Love last night
Never knew passion could taste so sweet alright
I made a vow to you
Everything I do for you is a joy and a gift
You got my whole life lifted

Whatever , whatever, whatever,
whatever, whatever, whatever,
whatever, whatever, whatever,
Whatever you want me to do,

Whatever , whatever, whatever,
whatever, whatever, whatever,
whatever, whatever, it's cool baby, loving me the way you do,

Whatever
Whatever
Whatever you want me to do I'll be happy..to...baby love

A Measure Of Opinion

Some of you might be acquainted with a YouTube program called The "&" Show. Recently I discovered one broadcast via the African American Opinion blog. I went to YouTube and caught a few other programs, highlighting issues and concerns of gay Black men.

The first video I saw Ugly Gay Men seemingly attacked anyone who doesn't fit the classic mold of beauty. If you've crooked teeth, an ounce of fat, or are slightly less than perfect, well you might as well climb into a box and die now. The hosts briefly broached ugliness in one's attitudes and personality, but focused primarily on how a person looks.

With regards to second video viewed, Do (Gay) Black Men Need Black Women, the two hosts disagreed on having women present in their lives. I won't rehash the conversation, just that both videos didn't seem to uphold a measure of support or true understanding. I put a link at the bottom of the page. See for yourselves.

I find myself struggling with reconciling these brothers with their opinions. While I found the topic interesting, funny to an extent, I disagreed with the overall tone and disassociation with human spirit the hosts approached. Both, at times, were negative and critical than helpful or compassionate. I dunno. These brothers are entitled to their opinions based on life as they see it, but damn, the judgment cast from upon high! Shit. Do you walk amongst mortal men, my brothers?

Why are gay men so critical of each other? Why are we faultfinding of our sisters, both straight and lesbian, who've had our back when no one else would? After all we've encountered, coming to terms with our sexuality, dealing with negative opinions from the church, our families, our communities, and the general discrimination from outside ethnic persuasions (read racists), why do we tear each other down? Why can't we uplift, support, and nurture each other in positive ways?

Yes. I know. Ever the idealist, right? But seriously do we need to constantly back bite amongst ourselves? If we can't be accepting of one another for our uniqueness in the Black Gay/Same Gender Loving community, how do we expect our straight counterparts to do so? How do we expect to bridge the gap between gays and lesbians, if we're dividing ourselves from our lesbian sisters? IF we disrespect our straight sisters, sometimes our only supporters, how do we anticipate being a part of the larger, mainstream Black community? My Brothers! Please. Wake up!

With regards to the two moderators of these videos, Jared, the light-skinned brother, was more grounded, warm, compassionate, and likable, than his co-host, Nathan. While I didn't agree entirely with Jared, he presented himself in a more friendly, agreeable manner, coming off more level-headed.

So why indeed? To gay men who are hypercritical, do you think you'll never grow old? Be the subject of someone's scorn or ridicule? Does it not hurt, on some level, to be ripped apart by someone else? There's a right way and the wrong way to approach things in this life. Again, We all have our own sense of need, but does ignorance and intolerance have to be a factor in telling a brother you're not interested in him? It shouldn't. People have feelings. Do you care about anyone else's well-being besides your own?

Someday, Lord willing, you'll reach 40-, 50-, 60-years old. Your vitality is gonna change. You might not be as firm as you are today. You might not turn heads like you used to. Your skin will change, hair will go gray or bald, or, God forbid, you might start getting a less firm around the middle. Translation: get fat! Eek! The horror!

Our own opinions and viewpoints differ, I realize. You might disagree with mine and I might do the same with yours. What makes being human so wonderful is our ability to disagree. Being different is what defines us. If we were all the same cookie-cutter-carbon-copy of one another, how boring would that be? But another aspect that makes us human, is our sense for compassion and acceptance. Can't you practice this?

I'm not throwing stones. We all have a tendency to be critical. Far be it for me to sit here and say I've never made a nasty remark about another individual. However, I'm learning to respect others. It comes with age. I'll be the first to admit my features aren't flawless! I never let it stop me meeting others though. And I never, not once, do I let it deflate my pride in myself. I'd like to say I have heart. If that much hasn't been evident through my blogging, then I need to stop here and now.

Anyway, I zipped and uploaded both videos to Sendspace. Take a moment, download the videos, watch 'em, and reflect. Let me know, either in the comments section or by email, what you thought. I'm curious. Maybe I'm wrong on this one. I don't think so though.

One last note. I'm almost positive I've been reading Jared's blog, His Daily Variety, and hadn't realized he's the light-skinned moderator from The "&" Show. At least, I think he and that blogger are one and the same. I only discovered his blog last week and found the Do (Gay) Black Men Need Black Women clip on Monday. I like what Jared has to say in his blog, but find The "&" Show leaves a sour mood in my spirit. Hmm. I'll have to keep investigating...

http://www.sendspace.com/file/j0dckc

http://www.sendspace.com/file/nx30zo

Olde English "800"

Ah yes. If ther'se anything that reminds me of summers in the 80s, it's Olde English 800, best known as "ghetto beer." Oh please! I'm surprised they still market the product.

Yeah, sure. Olde E, Schlitz, and Colt.45 were marketed to larger communities, but the stereotype was mostly Black folks drank the stuff. None of my white friends ever did. Does anyone else drink malt liquor ("likka")? Somebody, tell me. Tell me it's just a stereotype! Please.

Hmm. Many a weekend night during my high school yeah was spent in the park sipping on a 40 (ounce) of trashy beer with Stephan, Hawka, and a host of other friends. So I suppose, like anything else, they have their proper time and place. For me, that's in the past.

Does anyone really drink this now? For me? Pass me the vodka and cranberry juice!

No Publishers Clearinghouse Check Here

My e-mail box is overflowing and I can't get to respond to everybody all at once. So if you've been in contact within the last week, and you've not heard back, this is why. I'm not ignoring you.

Unfortunately, I get subscription feeds from other blogs, newletters from my Yahoo! & Google groups, email forwards from friends, family updates from my mum, junk mail from from clothing and merchant retailers...I can't keep up! My mail box requires emptying every to every other day. I haven't checked my mail since Friday morning! The task is tedious, but I'm getting there. I should have it finished by tonight. Once done, I can answer back. Don't you just love modern technology? Yes, I've become a slave to my email!

I seriously need to set up the spam filter or reroute mail to other mailboxes.

Ain't Nothin Here For You (Anymore)!

There isn't much to say about Napoleon's visit this past weekend 'cept it was an emotional experience. As quickly as he whizzed into town, just as fast, Napoleon stepped into his car and zoomed out again. I'm not sure what to make of it. The ordeal bears need for further examination.

What is it about an old love that can send you spiraling backwards, making the same foolish, stupid mistake you once did? Hmm? I ask you. Fortunately, my spirit has grown since our break up, and is more anchored. From the moment I got the call he was headed over Friday night, I knew I wouldn't be backsliding too much. I allowed myself a little room for error though. No other man in my life has swayed me like Naps. He was my rock and a blessing when I needed him. But he's immature and incredibly selfish too. You'll be proud of me. There was no sexin' going on, but that doesn't mean I wasn't tempted the whole weekend. I'm no one's booty call anymore! I've grown up. LOL

The first three hours of his visit consisted of me yelling, and I hollering, as loud as I could. I'm surprised my neighbors didn't call the cops. Tapped into reserved pockets of bitterness, anger, disappointment, and hurt, I said things that were months in the developing. Nasty stuff. Every explicative in my vocabulary, and then some, was used. I was so irritated at him! Irritation doesn't begin to describe the depth of my feelings. My fuse was lit and there wasn't any dousing it. Our fight months back hurt me.

Yet, "that which does not kill me, makes me strong."

Eventually, I worked threw my emotions, then allowed him to present his case. Surprisingly, he admitted his wrong doing, his mistakes, his flaws. He event offered to pay the money back he owed me. I knew Napoleon didn't have it, so I left him off the hook. We spent the remainder of the evening, into the wee hours, talking and smoking cigarettes. Mainly, I didn't trust him in my home. I have a tendency to sleep like a rock and I know as sure as I'll be black till the day I die, he'd have been all through my shit. Trust is earned and once broken, it takes Heaven and Earth to get it back. With Napoleon sitting on the right hand side of Loki, it doesn't seem plausible our friendship will return to what it was, and never, back to lovers.

So much is still unresolved. We did establish a tentative friendship, which means he has to reestablish my trust and security. Until then, I told him point blank I was keeping him at arms length. We talked. I owed it, not so much for him, but myself, to hear an explanation why our friendship went south. Before we became more than friends, he was someone I valued in my life. He was like a brother. Our fight took a joy from my spirit. Truth be told, I missed his presence in my life. Oh Hell no! There's no way I could let Napoleon in full time now! Too much damage has been done. Too much trust broken. But you never know. IF he proves to me he has his life back together and on the right path, there's always the possibility....

More later.

Always Expect The Unexpected

Only have a hot minute to post a brief blurb. Yesterday afternoon, early evening, I got some unexpected company that will be staying the entire weekend.

Shit. I tried to talk my way out of it, but softhearted me...

Right now, my house guest is in the shower. It takes him forever to get ready (such a Prima Dona!) so I hopped on to blog. Now my blog is in no way secret, but I don't this individual know all my bizness, especially my very personal and intimate posts this last week. And believe me, he'll be snoopin'.

Any guesses to the identity of my company? Mmmhmm. Bingo! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

How, do you ask, do I always get into this situation. Believe me, I didn't initiate it and had no desire to rekindle acquaintances. However, bruh was in a bind, and I do consider myself a God-fearing Christian, so I let him stay here, tentatively. If I find one thing missing, I'm calling the cops! Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, but I actually prayed, really got down on my knees, and begged God for wisdom, so I'm going with what I think he's telling me to do. Don't get me wrong, Christian charity should not be mistaken for stupidity.

Bruh-man can't be trusted in my home. Period. I locked up my valuables and took anything large over to my net door neighbor Lisa's house. F that. I'm not stupid! I'll be watching anyway, this company cannot be trusted in my home alone. These next 36 hours are gonna be tedious. I'm watching bruh like a hawk, so believe me, I'm not foolish enough to trust him. Also, hear when when I say this, ain't no "exchange" gonna happen either. Nope. No sexin' me down! Sure it's been a while, but bro, you're sleepin on the couch!

I know, I know, I know! Lecture me later. Details will be forthcoming. It should be an interesting rest of the weekend until then...

Fuck!

Siiigh. I'm too nice.

Pride & Brotherhood

As gay men, sometimes we're our own worst enemies. It takes a strong man to be homosexual and live his life proudly. I'm slowly headed in this direction.

Our lives are not easy, but can be lived and celebrated; respecting our spirit within. I'd like to think, God blessed us rather than cursed us. You might this strange given I often express my inability to reconcile faith and sexuality, but we are so much more than what we do in the bedroom. I do believe this.

No matter what the straight world's feelings concerning what gays do together in private, we have to give ourselves credit where credit is due. Our ability to praise, hope, embrace, and support can be exhilarating. Oh yes, we all know plenty negative bitchy gays out there. Some poor piss jaded individuals, but I'd like to think they're the exception to the rule than the norm.

Negative individuals can be found in every social group.

Perhaps I'm idealist? I admit it. I'm sentimental. Extremely so. With that said, since June is Pride month, I celebrate and praise our brotherhood. To my fellow gay bloggers out there on the WWW, I thank you. Your blogs not only share, but inspire and edify my soul.

Through the blogsphere, a process to unite is on the move. Blogs that make you rejoice, ponder, cry, cuss, laugh, and celebrate. It's all laid out before us to let's know the cause is just.

My personal walk has been a struggle some days, but in your giving, bloggers, I've learned I'm not alone. Each of you are priceless and helped me to see things from another perspective. All of you have to realize you're touching folks in ways you may ne'er know or recognize...

The abundance of kind words and support recently, in regards to painful events in my past, have been nothing but reassuring and empathetic. I'm touched. My spirit has been lifted. A kind word definitely goes a long way. Again, I give a heartfelt thank you. When I started blogging, I wasn't sure where this venture would lead. From this experience, though, I'm finding myself in the community and in a bond I never expected.

What does Gay Pride month mean to you?

On some occasions, to me, it's been just another ordinary month. Self-depreciation and negativity wouldn't allow the veil to be lifted. This year, not to be too corny, I celebrate myself. Celebrate whole heartily. I Rejoice! Not only in my sexuality, but my culture, heritage, spirit, and, on a larger scale, my humanity.

The stirrings of worthiness have begun. Celebrate indeed. We are a community, a fellowship, even if we don't always agree with one another.

As we all know, gay men can use our power and influence for good or evil. Today, I see only the good. We are truly blessed to know each other, if only through the Internet, to reflect upon ours words, our joys, our actions, our accomplishments, our laughs, and even our sorrow and tears. Wow! Moving isn't? Is this too sentimental? I think not.

Each us has a story to tell, and until recently, I always thought mine was insignificant. By embracing my past, not running from it, my spirit yields to a greater purpose. As Corey so eloquently stated "Isn't growth wonderful?"

True. All too true...
-DT