Half Blood Prince

One of several movies I'm looking forward to seeing later this year. Everything changed in this book, in my opinion. Definitely was darker and dealt with heavy adult themes. Can't wait to see how they pull this off. Better yet, how in the world are they going to condense The Deathly Hallows into one film? I think someone said there gonna make it two movies, which will be strange. What will the call the last movie then?

Someone call J.K. Rowling!!!

Tampa Bay. Oh And David Price Too!

You might remember this up and coming phenom pitcher from last year's World series when the Tampa Bay Rays (what happened to the "Devil" part?) fought tooth and nail against the Philadelphia Phillies.

Ah, last season's World Series was a nail biter. The playoffs started with several of my favorite teams competing for a spot, but in the end, my Phillies prevailed. Besides, I had to go with my hometown ball club.

Always been a fan of the D-Rays. St. Petersburg is home away from home. Got family on both sides of the Bay, in Tampa and St. Pete, and I'm hoping to get down there this summer at some point.

With loads of eating and things to do, you can't go wrong. From Fort De Soto to Pass-a-Grille to St. Pete's Beach, I'm in love with the area. St Pete's Beach is so friggin quaint. Certainly could see myself retiring there. With the beach, shopping, (my favorite are the Bealles outlets), year round nice weather, what's not to love? Only thing caution note is for those not accustomed to all the little lizards running around, cause they're there aplenty! All in all, Tampa Bay is a great community. And tons of hot guys with slammin' gay night life in Tampa (not-so slammin' St. Pete's, but you can find bars there).

Back to Dave. Unfortunately, the only time I saw a Rays' game was during Spring Training when they faced the Phillies. David Price probably was still in high school then, if not junior high, so I didn't see him. But what I saw of Pitcher Price during last year's Series was enough to impress me.

So here's a nod of recognition to David....

A Batman & Robin Pair I Can Handle

I was never a huge fan of Oz. Only watched sporadically during it HBO run, solely for all the male nudity. The show was too graphic for my tastes. I'm a big ole wimp and not big into violence. Probably explains why I never got into critically acclaimed The Wire.

Not sure what this clip is referencing, as I said, didn't watch Oz. The main appeal was the two caped crusaders bulging in their tight spandex. Recognize the one brother, Adewale Akinnoye Agbaje, but who's the light-skinned brother? Anyone know? You know I have my fetish now...

Stop! Healing Time.

My friends, I'm not sure if I mentioned this or not, but I'm going in for surgery to repair some torn ligaments, fix nerve damage, and remove infected bone tissue tomorrow. Got the bad news a few Fridays ago; been in denial dealing with the situation. To be honest, I'm scared. We're taking heavy duty, major surgery.

Surgery is scheduled for Friday (tomorrow). I'll spend a few days in hospital to make sure there are no major complications, then be whisked off to live with family for a few weeks since I'll be incapable of taking care of myself. Having the family's help will be a burden off my shoulders. Been doing this on my own, alone, for two years now. Time to put the big boy undies on and ask for help.

Fingaz crossed, this will be the home stretch in my ordeal since the auto accident. Considering I almost died last year from complications and infection build up, I've been blessed and fortunate. However, my spirit has been waning and I'm tired. My plan is to rest. This juncture comes at a bad time though, you know staring a new relationship (at least I think we are) and all, but my health has to come first. If I'm dead, worrying about my relationship status is perfectly moot, right? But "A" and I will be alright. If not, then it simply wasn't meant to be.

The doctor's prognosis sounds good though. With proper rest, total immobilization of my leg after the surgery, I should be able to start rehab with 30-45 day. Maybe. But that means staying off the leg 100%. No getting up outta bed for anything, not even to bathe or use the toilet. Yeah, I know. The concept grosses me out too, but I gotta do what will help me heal.

During my convalescence, I've decided to take a break from blogging. Plan on catching up with several good books, keep a private journal, and do soul searching while at home with my family. I'll have access to my laptop, so if I change my mind, and decide to give you guys an update, it's there. Plus, I need to keep reading the good words from my blogging brothers now, don't I?

For Axe readers, the blog will be mostly inactive, but there are one or two prewritten posts coming. Probably won't do much there until I'm feeling up to writing again. Sorry. But for MALE readers and purveyors of Chocolate Salsa, you guys are in for a treat. Chocolate and Salsa guys, I sat down earlier this week and lovingly put a month's worth of sexy pictures and video clips together. Hopefully...I'll be back before they run out.

MALE, I leave in the capable hands of my co-authors. I trust they'll hold down the fort until I return. I look forward to all the great words they plan to share.

Lastly, wish me luck and whisper a word to the Creator for me folks. Been nervous about this whole ordeal. I hate being anesthetized and the run to recovery is gonna be more challenging. I'm fairly independent and this really going to test my limits. But I'm grateful there are people in my life willing to take care of me.

That's all for now. I'll get Hester or Corey to keep you posted on my status. In the meantime, stay blessed, keep your head up, and your eyes on the prize...
-Ian

*Groan*

I spent the better part of the evening working on a blurb I decided not to post in the end. I have headache from dealing with some demons tonight. I punked out because my thught couldn't be condensed, and the first rule of thumb with blogging is never make your post so long nobody wants to read it. So I abandoned the effort. I might try to post it at some later date. Just not right now.

I'm frustrated with myself, men, and life this evening. Tonight though, I'd give my eye teeth to be anyone besides myself. Really. I'm tired and worn out. So this "bitch is going to bed....

If I Were...At This Moment..The Impossible Dream

With my nose outta joint, I gotta post personal, pertinent post. A good friend has gotten underneath my skin y'all. Not in a bad way, but definitely in a way that's brought shame and self-loathing issues bubbling from the depths. Now my friend has a knack of getting me to confront matters I should be dealing with. I love and respect him for it, but there are days I wanna wring his neck. Said friend is succinct and always to the point. He doesn't pull punches, he's just real.

Setting up the situation, this afternoon we were engaging in our typical rousing debates. We crossed into discussion on masculinity and men seeking love from other men. For my friend, Mr. Good-Stuff, it's only about the conquest; getting in the boxer shorts, tagging ass, then moving on. Nothing more, nothing less. At the heart of the matter, Mr. Good Stuff honestly doesn't believe men can love each other like men who love women.

To his credit, I don't fault Mr. Good Stuff for his opinion. There far too many gay, bi-, and down low brothers with the same conviction. It's disheartening though when you hear the sentiment coming from a trusted friend. Again, Mr. Good Stuff pulls no punches. I don't agree with him. Sure sometimes sex is just about throes of passion, but doesn't invalidate love between two men. Holding the attitude men seeking love from one another are just experiencing "female tendencies" is rather insulting. When my friend expressed his thoughts, it cut like a dull blade through my soul. What's so wrong with men wanting comfort, soft tenderness, hugs, from one another? There's nothing is wrong with us.

What sticks in my crawl, the prevailing attitude that men who love each are lesser than real men, it's a sad statement on our gender. Restricting the love experience only to men who love women, what does that say about the rest of us wanting something different? I asked my friend how he felt about this. Did he feel men are incapable of experiencing anything more between each other? Basically, for him, no.

Curious too, is I came away from our conversation that Mr. Good Stuff really didn't have that esteemed feeling for women, that it's done simply because "that's cause that's what they need" struck me as odd. This steered us into a new direction in discussion. What is it truly men should feel emotionally? Aren't we capable of experiencing the gammit of emotion? Or is only about the 3 F's (fighting, fleeing, and fucking)? Did he honestly believe men are devoid of nurture and caring? Was he reinforcing the notion that homosexuality is just about lust and is therefore an abomination in the eyes of God?

Answers...I didn't a clear answer on the first question. Though he explained that for him, as a down low, bisexual brother, it's only about the "nut." Love is between a man and a woman for him. I can only speculate about his love life with women, because being honest, I done have positive things to say about DL bruhs. Won't get into it, but it's the classic example of trying to have it all. Eventually, something has to give.

Second answer was much more clearer, yes. Sexual behavior between two men is an abomination before God in his opinion. At this point, since we're both God-fearing believing brothers, we left the conversation alone. I didn't want to ruin our friendship, but I coulda let loose with a barrage of opinion on that tired replayed classic Christian guilt. The belief that homosexuality is a greater sin than anything else has never washed with me. It's not. But that's not subject for debate right. I'll save it for a follow up post.

Query? Is a man's only passion sex? Hell no, that would naive and immature to believe. We are capable of loving one another like women and children. We're trapped in some vicious cycle locked in animal instinct. We have rational, higher processing brains dammit.

In part, Good Stuff's argument would support the ideal that we are not...that the only thing a man can do is wield his penis, then move on, taking care of only himself alone. Love, as was implied, was a "female thing." So what other emotion is relegated for us? Anger, pride, lust, and greed?

Then the true cutting moment was reached, the surefire implication men who feel love for one another are less than real men, something less perhaps than a woman.

Ouch! I got my feeling hurt there. Maybe I'm too tenderhearted, wearing my heart on my sleeve. But this chink in my personal armor has always been there since I was child, through adolescence, and on into adulthood.

To be sure, I'm generally accepting of the things I am not, but this issue strikes deep to the core. At 39, I'm still finding myself and I hate it. At this stage of the game, I want confort and security. I'm more than little irritated with not putting to rest the debacle over my masculinity and occasional, more often than not, feminine perceived nature. Real tapped into demons I've heard my entire life. And Goddammit, I'm still struggling with it to the best of my ability, and failing.

See, I had a very mean ignorant, sonuvabitch second cousin who took every opportunity to let me know how felt about "faggots." Constantly he called me punk," "bitch," "queer bitch," what have you, and kept shoving down my throat "All you need is some good pussy to straighten your ass out." Well, Gregory is dead now, but his words haunt me still. And somebody tell me why is it straight men, or more masculine acting straight bruthas are so afraid/vengenful toward lesser masculine men? I admit I've my own prejuidices, even as finger snapping and snarky as I wanna be. But I make excuses for my own behavior. I'm just clowning, just being silly. But am I really? Am really just a big ole queen, that everybody in Creation knows about, but me? Am I living in complete and utter denial.
Answer: no. Not really. I know how I act and talk sometimes conveys a feminine attitude. But to my credit, I'm not switchin down the street or doing the stereotypical behavior all the time. Most of the time I'm just myself. Free and cavalier. Not necessarily butch, no screaming queen either. And so what if I was. What's the big deal?

The stigma. That's the big deal.

It'd be one thing if femme brothers got shit from the straight community and could come home to the embrace of our gay brothers, but you know there's more than enough straight acting brothers who won't come near you with a 10 foot pole if you a little fey. Please, don't deny it. Maybe it's my own experience, but folk are always look for "straight acting." I can pull it off for so long, especially if I keep my mouth shut, or thrust enough baritone in my voice, but get me animated and the voices tends to pitch high, the "bitches" and "gurrrls" start to role off the tongue. Again, I know, self-imposed demons.

Just when I think I got this whole man thing worked out...

In truth, I don't terrific at being a man. Gay, black, or otherwise. I do my best, but there's loathing in the works simply because I don't measure up to a standard other men are meeting. Sometimes to soft and tender, sometimes lacking that killa instinct men are supposed to possess, I've been know to find comfort in others who attribute the qualities I lack. Yeah, I'm too hard on myself, but with respect to the hand I was dealt early in life, it's understandable.

There are days when I wish I could have the devil may care attitude, give little thought to purpose and just go out without emotional restraint and just run amok.

It's a darkness. And it's scary, always viewing yourself as being less than someone else. I mean's it irrational, but throughout my entire life there's been peeps in my corner forver and a day telling I wasn't good enough as a man. The taunts going back to childhood. The perception from folk at work, church, other arenas, well it's hard not to take those thought to heart after awhile.

Yawn And Stretch, But No Slip And Slide

My ass is tarred this mornin y'all. T-i-r-e-d. TIRED! Got up and all I wanna do is crawl underneath the covers. But no rest for the weary. Too many errands on tap today.

So the cause for my lack of rest? Who else? A stopped by last night. Well, I should say, Senior A and Junior A stopped over.

For those of you who don't know, 'Turo has a 3-year-old son, the spitting image of himself. Yeah, I know. This does present its fair share of concerns. Yes, I know. I'll blog about those uncertainties in a future post. Honestly though? Throwing caution to the wind? I'm tantalized by the possibility of having a little family of my own. Lady T and I never got around to having children, and despite my bitching, to the contrary, I actually wouldn't mind having a rug rat or two to carry on the family name.

Soooo... Junior decided to fall asleep while A and I were chatting up. Initially, A wanted to go, but yours truly managed to convince Senior for them both to stay. (I wasn't stupid. If 'Turo left my house, ain't no way was he gonna drag himself back out). Sure, I had to plead a little, might have lost some dignity, but it's all good. How often do you see a 39-year-old man beg a 30-year-old man to spend the night? Screams desperation, does it not? LOL. Naw, ol' boy was flattered for the attention. Besides, I think, no I know, he wanted me to ask as much as I wanted him to stay.

Not to worry either. Senior and I were on our best behavior whilst Junior slept. No need to contact Child Protective Services. No sex, no making out, no nothin' duuuurty occurred. Nothing went down but talk. And believe me, there's plenty we need to learn about one another. We've only known each other a little under a year.

Come to think of it, I ne'er explained to you all how 'Turo reentered my life after his "sabbatical," did I? Later. 'Nother post. Way too long to explain now.

Suffice to say, my "man," and I'm using the term loosely, is growing on me. I care about him, but I'm not diving into this blind. The sex is good. The conversation is enthusiastic. The connection is grand. But 'Turo still has to pass the trial by the jury, namely my closest friends. He's only met one, and not one whose esteemed opinion counts. Nope. Arturo has gotta meet the Queen and Lady of my life. Has to meet Adam, Rashawn, Leoban, and EJ. Hell, he even has to mama's seal of approval (someday). If any of those folks have an objections, much as I'm drawn to his fine Latin ass, he'll be outta here! No "ands," "ifs," or "buts."

See, unfortunately, and I hate admitting this but forever honesty on the blog, I have incredibly poor judgment when it comes to choosing boyfriends. No problems with choosing friends, just partners. Need I remind anyone? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Actually, to clarify, I'm talking about Napoleon. Several exes have been in that category.

Query? Should I even classify our thing as a "relationship" yet? I mean really, just because you have sex with somebody a few times, adore them a bit, does that make you in a relationship? Sadly, I refuse to answer my own question, despite knowing the probable answer.

Enough for now. Like my blogging brother Corey says, "I'll Keep You Posted....."
-Ian

Jason Kidd

OK, might get some flack for posting a birthday tribute for Jason. Especially after I've been more than a little vocal with friends over the whole Chris Brown-Rihanna fiasco.

For those with short memories, Jason Kidd had been accused and arrested a number years back for domestic abuse against his then wife, Joumanna. It's sad, really. Kidd had a ritual of blowing kisses to his wife before taking shots at the hoop. On the outside, Jason and Joumanna's marriage seemed perfect. That was before all the domestic abuse surfaced. They later divorced in 2007-08.

To be sure, I'm not forgiving Jason for his issues with abuse. No. I will concede, however, Jason has attempted to get counsel and help for his problem with anger management. Sure, in time, I will ease up on Chris Brown if brother sincerely gets the help. Right now, young mister Brown is just playing the spin to save his ass, literally, from going to jail. Pretty and young as Chris is to some folk? Shoot, you know Negro's gonna be somebody named Bubba, Leroy, or Artiste's bitch. Then again, Chris might be the one dickin'. Rumor has it Chris has rather large assets in his pants, but I digress.

This is about Jason, not Chris. Forget I even mention Chris, OK? We're all sick of talking about him. It's challenging, though, composing a post on another brother previously accused of domestic abuse. Part of me is thinking with the wrong head. Y'all know I got the light-skinned brother thang down pat. Jason is yellow-boned deliciousness in a pair of basketball shorts. To lend from an old expression, "he's the bee's knees!" But the rational part of my body not in my pants, can't reconcile the Jason's troubling past with Joumanna. One must go then, that if he and his ex-wife are amicable and over the abuse situation, perhaps the rest of need to move on as well. Redeeming Jason though, is he's a humanitarian. Mr. Kidd does give to the needs of children through his charitable organization, the Jason Kidd Foundation. Here's a link if you wanna know more.

Since Jason was shipped over to the Dallas Mavericks from New Jersey Nets, it's difficult to keep up with his career. I hate the Mavs, and don't follow the team, so I can't rave on-and-on about Jason's play time there. For now, just join me in saluting Jason on his 36th Birthday. Hope he had a happy one...

Meanings

For some time now, I've been mystified and intrigued by the Battlestar Galactica Intro theme music. Going with the whole space odyssey motif, the music merged perfectly with the reimagined series.

To his credit, Galactica's music composer Bear McCreary put together an insightful arrangement during the series' run. Otherworldly, awe inspiring, and soul searching, Galactica's music married perfectly with the soul of the show. It evoked feeling. McCreary borrowed from all genres, Gaelic, classic rock, classical, traditional opera, to convey a sense of searching, longing, and need... all the while reinforcing these were a people wandering through the darkness.

Mood is what made the new Battlestar Galactica work. Pinned on the spiritual hopes for survival and a new beginning, perhaps it was the musical score which cemented the creative genius behind Battlestar. Without it, the message may have been lost. One understood the notion this was humanity's best chance for peace.

Personally, I never gave the Intro much thought. Assumed McCreary's creative processes again were falling in tune with Ron D. Moore's and David Eick's vision for the new Battlestar. But in the end, I made the classical error when it comes to assumptions. The premise of the last 10 episodes was "You will Know The Truth." After watching the Finale, I discovered one more revelation, one more "truth," Battlestar Galactica had to impart.

Comparing fan finale opinions on the BSG message boards, one fan posted lyrics to the Intro composition. I was surprised, then my astonishment gave way to hearty laughter. Moore and company pulled another fast one on us. Cheeky monkeys! Under the notion the Intro was inspired by some Polynesian theme, in truth, the song is fashioned after an old tranditional Sanskrit mantra. Reading the lyrical translation, I understood, finally, how poignant its meaning was for the series.

I've included the Sanskrit and translation below for observation. For other Battlestar fans, were you aware of the significance of the theme song? What's your opinion now?

Gayatri Mantra (BSG theme):

~Aum Bhur Bhuvah Svah~
~Tat~
~Savitur Varenyam~
~Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi~
~Dhiyo Yonah:~
~*Prachodayat*

Translation from Sanskrit:
Throughout all realms of experience,
'That'
essential nature illuminating existence,
is the adorable
One.
May all beings perceive through
subtle and meditative intellect,
the magnificent brilliance
of enlightened awareness

Oops...Barack Faux Pas'd.

Without trying to sound insensitive, I'm really not getting why folks are so up in arms over the President and his gaff on the Jay Leno Show the other night. Yes, he made a mild error in judgment with his Special Olympic comment, but I don't think he was attempting to be derogatory or disrespectful. Plus he immediately made an apology to the folks over at Special Olympics.

As someone who is now officially disabled and has worked with the disabled, people need to lighten the hell up to some extent. Politically Correctness has become the secret police in modern day. It's not that I'm not trying to understand the issue, I do. But President Obama didn not make a gross, inappropriate remark such as calling the disabled "gimps," "crippled," or "retards." Unfortuantely, in my community I hear it far too often from folk. I understand there's still stigma on the mentally and physically disabled. Obama saw his error, quicly apologize, his statment was received and accepted by Special Olympics.
Nuff said, right?

You'd think so. I've read more than a few comments on blogs calling for his resignation. Come on already. It's a minor infraction at best. No need for him to step down from the highest office. Given the Prez a little leeway. He's not the first President to say something stupid (Hello? Eight years of George Bush????) and he won't be the last.

Accept the apology folks, then move on.

The Truth Is Known. Satisfied?

For those of you who watched the Battlestar Galactica Series and its Finale last night, what did you think? It ended the only way it could I suppose. I was partially disappointed because I'm left with a few nagging questions. The premise of this season was "You Will Know The Truth," however, we didn't get the complete truth. Oh sure, there were answers aplenty, but the 10% unanswered questions stick to my craw like hot tar on the bottom of my trainers on a hot summer afternoon.

Best answer given? The explanation of the Opera House vision through the series. Worst answer or biggest letdown? Starbuck. The first half was slow moving for me, but relevent to the storyline. The second half was jammed pack with action and I especially was appreciative to see the only black Cylon, Simon (played by actor Rick Worthy), during the Finale. Others had predicted the final scenes, so I had an inkling how the show would close. Head Six and Head Baltar still intrigue me. I'll put the explanation of their roles as questionary. Half-satisfied, half-disappointed, I almost positive we'll be seeing these two again with the two prequel movies slated later this year, Caprica and Battlestar Galactica: The Plan.

Overall, the Battlestar Galactica series had a statement to make about many things,: race, religion, politics, sexuality, illness, cruelty... you name it. Edward James Olmos stated it best when he said future generations will look back at this series and hail it as a hallmark of the time, like Blade Runner did back in the 80s. Truth be told, I've never re-watched Blade Runner as an adult, but I hear you gain so much insight from an older perspective than when you were "you" back in the day.

So through the highs and lows of Galactica, we've been carried through a journey of epic proportions. Some characters we loved, some we despised, and others we truly didn't understand until the credits rolled for the final time. I'll miss the show, but something else will come along soon. Always does.

But the important lesson I'm taking from Galactica is, no matter what our differences in beliefs, we all human, struggling to survive through the wilderness, looking for home. Now you can take the words "wilderness" and "home" however you wish. Wilderness could imply sexuality struggles, substance abuse, or general strife of everyday living. Home could me finding a mate/partner, establishing job security, or religious enlightenment. Whatever the application, our journey is universal and the experiences we live today will set the foundation for tomorrow. Make the most of what you got today, recognize mistakes, improve on the qualities that are good, and strive to unite, while being unique. Simple. That's the message Ron D. Moore and David Eick said unto me. So say we all.

So Say We All!
-Ian

Update

I haven't posted in a while because I've been busy plus going thorugh my changes. Life, ain't it grand. Just to fill everybody in on my comings and goings, I probably wil be taking an extended break from all my blogs for the next couple of weeks because I need to have a repair surgery on my leg that will lay me up for a few weeks. I'm having surgery at the end of the month.

So far, I'm not so stressed out over the surgery, just over finances. I'm not sure where all the money is going to come from, plus I found out there is the remote possibility I might have lost my COBRA coverage. Yikes! A bit scary. So far I've been barely keeping my head above water, but things are getting shaky and fierce. I'm nervous, but I know God is with me. I just have to trust.

While I'm in hospital, I'm gonna have my ex-wife watch my two rugrat cats. Since I'm gonna need be off my leg and foot as much as possible, I'm not going to be able to fend for Itchy and Giblet.

I'll try to post more and give updates. Not sure who cares, but its nice to vent out what's going on. ON the flip side, I haven't talked to "A" in a few days, which isn't unusual. Been a little lonely since I post my little porno rant over on the MALE blog. Oops. The embarrassment. The embarrassment. Hahahaha.

I still crack me up.

Makes Me Wanna Holla!

Today was not one of my better days. Forgive me one and all, but I was the BFH (bitch from Hell) today. Some reason, crankiness crept into my being and wouldn't let go of me. Probably in part to the lack of sleep from the damn Daylight Savings Time change. I hate it in the Spring.

Woke up extra early this morning and try as I might, sleep refused to answer my yearning need. So I laid in bed for an hour and 45 minutes before getting up and turning on the Tom Joyner Morning Show at 6:00 AM. From there, my mood just degenerated into just plain nasty.

S'pose the ebb and flow of emotion also has connection to bad news concerning health matters I learned Friday. Been blatantly ignoring and not handling that sitch, so my subconscious must be working overtime processing and coming to grip with the latest in my health saga. Will I never heal properly? Sheesh.

Perhaps I'll explain the whole story in post tomorrow, but not now. I really am avoiding and burying my head in the sand. But the most important trigger came from a conversation with my beloved Grand ma-ma Sunday afternoon. Let me preface, I love the woman dearly, but she more or less compares me to the Great Whore of Babylon astride my wild ox coming to usher in the Apocalypse. She means well, but the constant critical statements wear me out. It's a family issue, one that started waaaaaay before I was born, so it's not entirely about me. Still.

Why is it only family can elevate you to such heights only to send you crashing down again, all in the name of love? Harsh statements and resounding judgment never helped anyone move forward. I'm a stubborn man. Get it from my daddy. And as nice as I probably come off here on the blog, I have nasty streak when my ire is riled up. Unfortunately I cuss like a sailor, do it in three languages, and have no shame reading the riot act if somebody pisses me off.

Now, just so you're sure, I still have R-E-S-P-E-C-T for my elders. I would nevah cuss out dear old gram. Honey I ain't crazy! That lady used be well-known for tearin' up mine, my sisters, my cousin, et al's asses if we got outta line. And at 80-something, I'm not about to test her to see if she will still make the attempt or not...but damn, I get so frustrated with her logic and assumptions. You know? My life is tame in comparison to other family members: I'm not running the streets. I'm whoring myself out. I'm using drug like I did 16 years ago. I've never been in jail. Never done anything to bring shame or scandal on our family name... Really. The same can't be said about others.

My life is stagnant right now. Dull. Boring. Just ordinary. But hear my gram talk, well you'd think I was the world's worst sinner. "You need to rededicate your life to Christ." Um, and you know my relationship with Jesus because? It just frustrates me because I'm not living the life she thinks I ought be living, then there's something amiss with me. I'm sorry if I'm not in church every Sunday. I'm sorry if I'm not quoting scripture left and right, but I know God know and sees my heart. He sees my struggle and how I am trying to make an effort, minimal as it may be. ...It's sad and hurts own grandmother thinks I'm a horrible person.

When I search for an answer for why she might think these things, well, all roads lead to Rome. Gotta be the gay issue. I know she KNOWS how I butter my toast. But again, I've never directly had that conversation with my grandmother. Nor my folks. Nor anyone in the older generations in my family. I'm sure it's been discussed, assumed, but nobody ever approached me and boldly asked. If they did, I would tell them the truth. I haven't done it because it's an uncomfortable topic. Additionally, I'm not nosing up in who parks their shoes under my respective family member's beds at night, so why should they care who does at my house? Huh? NP!

It's my own fault though. I should address the matter head-on; just need to be done with it. Call it cowardice, but I'm just not in the mood at this current stage in my life. I'm not well in body, spirit, or mind. For the interim, I need to rely on folk outside my circle of friends. While my family may not condone my life, they are reliable and I can depend on them if I am dire straits. So, the subject is off the table; for now. I made myself a promise however, I won't enter my 40s living in secret. So I have less than 11 months for figure out how to leave the drama at their doorstep, then walk away.

Don't lecture me guys. I know I'm not living my whole truth. All things in there due course of time. For tonight, I just needed to vent. Thanks for reading.
-Ian

Really? His Name is Ulrich?

Really? I would have never in a million years have guessed. Yes, I'm talking about former LA Laker, turned actor, Rick Fox. Brother's proper name is Ulrich Alexander Fox.

Ulrich, huh? Well it's different, but unique. And I can dig the Alexander aspect to his name. Alexander is such a wonderful middle name yo! Especially when you got a boring first name and a weird family name also accompanying that, but I digress.

Anyway...while doing my little research prior to penning this post, I was a little surprised by facts I discovered. Besides his name, well there's the fact he's Canadian, born in one of my favorites spots, Toronto, and that Dear Ulrich is only eight months older than me.

Again...really? Wow! For some reason I already thought had transcended the magical age of 40.

So am I crazy for thinking Rick is handsome? Yes, I know the hair is a bit grayer, the laugh lines are more noticeable, but Ulrich still has the height and I noticed he got rid of that nasty soul patch he was sporting in Meet The Browns. Besides, Vanessa Williams agreed with me for a time, and I respect her judgment. (Look for a blog on her Ms. Williams in the near future)

Of course "Wilhelmina" eventually divorced Rick...but they remain amicable, so he can't be all that bad, right? What say you...

Boris

The man, the myth, the legend...Happy 36th Birthday Boris Kodjoe. What project is brother up to lately? Boris has kinda been MIA lately, don'tcha think?

D.S. I love you...

well not reallly, but I thought the title was catchy. But here's a birthday shout out to one fine ass brother, Darryl Stephens. Oh so dark dreamy and handsome. Happy 35th Birthday brother!

So totally lickable!

Cialis

E.J. e-mailed this little ditty to me the other day and I fell out. Oh this is funny. Check it out and lemme know what you think. Could imagine if the real Cialis commericial was like this?

Spoken Word

"For my friends on the right, I think it would be helpful to remember the critical role that the separation of church and state has played in preserving not only our democracy but also our religious practice. Folks tend to forget that during our founding, it wasn't the atheists or the civil libertarians who were the most effective champions of the First Amendment…. It was the forbearers of Evangelicals who were the most adamant about not mingling government with religious, because they didn't want state-sponsored religion hindering their ability to practice their faith as they understood it.

Whatever we once were, we're no longer just a Christian nation; we are also a Jewish nation, a Muslim nation, a Buddhist nation, a Hindu nation, and a nation of non-believers. We should acknowledge this and realize that when we're formulating policies from the state house to the Senate floor to the White House, we've got to work to translate our reasoning into values that are accessible to every one of our citizens, not just members of our own faith community."

-Barack Obama speaking on Pat Robertson's Christian Broadcasting Network.

J.T.

While I'm not really a fan of Justin Timberlake, I suppose he has some appeal to someone out there. Actually, my blogger buddy Dickspot wanted a JT post over at Chocolate & Salsa. Umm...sorry my friend. I just couldn't bring myself to break da rules. Well, not entirely. You got JT with Timbaland.

But fear not! I compromised and am givng the man here on Weilding the Axe instead. Dickspot, I hope thes photos will suffice. I threw in the infamous Titty-Gate photo with Janet Jackson from earlier this decade. Hope you're not offended by a little boobies...

Dorian...Hunk-o-licious to Bear-o-licious

Ah, now here's a man I really could sink my teeth into, Dorian Gregory. Here's my rebuttal to Toddy's Laz Alonzo post... What's wrong with a helathy bit of competition, eh?

Now Dorian's appearance has certainly changed over the years. He's not a buff and tight as he used to be. A few laugh and age lines have set in. There's a little more girth to his mirth, but brother still has it going on in my opinion. I'll take the graduated bear physique. Recently, I added brother to my lists of "husbands." Chile, I'll take on this big daddy any day o' the week.

Now I'm familiar with Dorian from his work on the hit cult show Charmed and when he was host for Soul Train, but he's also a great humanitarian. He's worked with the American Diabetes Association raising awareness for Type 1/Juvenile Diabetes, MADD, and the Los Angeles AIDS Project.

Call me shallow, but there's something deeply appealing about him. Something masculine, although there's a gay vibe I catch whiff when I watch him. I'm not sure if he's gay, probably not, but my Spidey sense gets all tingly around Dorian. Check out the bleach blonde hair shot below. How many straight black men bleach their hair?

My friends chastise me for my type of guy I'm drawn to. Personally, I consider myself pretty non-discriminating, but ask my cohorts in life and they'll tell you something else. I go through my stages. And as I recently mentioned to Real, my fine ass "yella" and "red-boned" brethren get me into the most trouble. Call it issues. They say we're often drawn to folks who are most like one of our parents. Guess my little craziness over yellow-toned boys comes from my mum being "high yellow" and all, but I don't have any Oedipal delusions, do I? Ha! Nah, I'm just weird. I think I can handle Mr. Red Brown here though.

With regard to Dorian's coiffured state, I must say, I much prefer brother with hair on his head. I have a few Dorian pictures sans the hair but didn't post those. Don't care for 'em. Y'all know I got the hair fetish thang down pat. Sure I like the smooth and clean look on a bald-headed man, but Dorian hirsute is much more masculine. Plus, no offense, but the bald look makes his dome look huge. I ain't feelin' it.

Lemme stop playin'. I'll say this much, if I ever have the slightest hint bro plays for my team, I will find him and beg for that special date!