Birthday

Baby G in Schenectady, 1971

Seeing as my birthday is Monday, Oct. 26 I figured it was a good time to reflect on the past year.  Almost exactly 1 year ago there was a fire at my job at High Voltage Tattoo.  It seemed, at the time, like it was the end of an era and that I'd have to embark on a new journey of, gulp, job searching.  Never been my forte.  I made a few resumes and applied for a few interesting jobs and even had an interview for a very high-end clothing store.  I didn't really want to be looking for another job but I wasn't sure when and if i'd have a job at High Voltage - if it would ever reopen.  

    As luck or fate or destiny or all of the above would have it we were able to stay open at our space next door and, really, I was only out of work for a very short time which I treated like a summer vacation.  The actual shop is just about to be finished being renovated and it looks so friggin beautiful I cannot wait until I go to work everyday in that space.  Luckily, the high-end clothing store didn't pan out because no one really wanted me to leave, nor did I.  I am blessed with a large amount of freedom that my job affords me.  Freedom I would never have in a corporate environment.  I am able to go away whenever I want and even leave work to run to an audition - it's pretty awesome.  I even booked an awesome Slim Jim commercial which is currently airing.  It was a super fun job and the 1st commercial I booked in a while - hopefully, the start of many more bookings.

     Unexpectedly, the year started out with me falling in love with someone 1/2 my age that I met on the interweb.  I broke all my own rules with this one but it taught me a valuable lesson - rules are for chumps. LOL.  Really, though, never say never because I stated out loud after my last break up that I would NEVER do a lot of stuff and I had to eat most of those words (at least words have no carbs or calories.)  This relationship is the opposite of my last one in all of the best ways.  There's a level of intimacy and passion that I was lacking for a very long time.  The kind of intimacy that I craved even though it scared me senseless.  It's hard to admit or even realize that we are the authors of our own destiny and all those jillion years when I was single and miserable I was unable to see the cause - me.  It's hard to work on yourself and to look at the past and see how it affects the future.  Hard but necessary to progress and to free yourself from the baggage that weighs you down.  The good news is that it's always possible and never too late to make positive changes in life.  That's one of the beauties of being human.

     A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of seeing Grace Jones at The Hollywood Bowl for the 2nd time.  She is an astounding and gorgeous force of nature and a true inspiration.  Sexier and wilder and more fashionable than ever and she's somewhere between 60 & 70 - she states in her new biography that even she doesn't know her exact age and also that she doesn't care.  Who says we have to slow down and give up as we age?!  Those are some archaic and outdated ideas for sure.  I will be 45 but I feel like in 25 most days - except when I have to wake up 2 times a night to pee which is the only post 40 thing that I have noticed!!  On good days I still look 32 also - at least that's what my "people" say, hahaha.  People love and respect Grace Jones for who she is & she has never wavered or shrunk away from expressing herself,  All I know is that after that show I have totally redefined my definition of 'aging Grace-fully!"

Stay Weird

Dressed as a Cockette for Halloween, 2014

I've always been a weird kid.  Well, maybe, way back in the beginning (like 300 BC) when I was born I was a normal kid.  I enjoyed bike-riding, skateboarding, climbing trees, drawing, painting, playing dress up, putting on shows for friends and family - ya know, normal kid stuff.  It wasn't until I got to school, more specifically 1st grade that people started to let me know I was different.  I never watched, participated in, or enjoyed sports and worst of all, OMG, wait for it...I was friends with girls!
     I even went to an alternative school where all the grades were combined and we called the teachers by their 1st names and did things like make our own root beer and put on Renaissance Faires.  Still, the taunting and teasing began in 1st grade.  I think it was because there were kids from 1st - 11th grade in the same class which even in some hippie utopia is a recipe for disaster.  The older guys started calling me fag, gay-bait, queer-bait, homo - all those lovely labels - long before I even knew what they were talking about.  It was pretty clear that I was different and what that meant to most people was bad, no good, deserving of punishment.
     The thing about verbal abuse is that it's the worst kind - it's effects last much longer than a black eye or bruised rib.  Physical pain is forgotten but those words echoed in my brain for most of my life. I'm not sure how I had the wherewithall to make it through each school day when it was literally torture for me.  I internalized most of my pain and it came out in destructive ways like vandalism and shop lifting when I was really young and then drugs and alcohol when I was older.  Somehow I managed not to commit suicide or shoot up my school and then by the time I got to college I was fully flying my freak flag as high as it would soar.
     I contemplated death often as a youth and became obsessed with dark stuff - music, literature, art, clothing.  That's not necessarily a bad thing as it got me through my most painful moments and also allowed me to know there were others of my ilk out there in the stratosphere somewhere.  Embracing my darkness let me appreciate the light later on in life and now I giggle at my morbid humor.  For sure the main reason why I never really attempted suicide was my mom.  I didn't give a shit about my self but I couldn't bear to do something that awful to my mom - she could never live with that pain and I saw the selfishness in that act.
     I often fantasized about killing all my classmates - not so much with a gun as that wasn't really a thing in the 70's but when I saw "Carrie" I was like "Oh yeah - that's the shit right there!!!!" If only I could inflict the torture back on the culprits with just my mind!!  I don't even think I could have got my hands on a gun when I was a teen although I did see one once in the gym locker room in 11th grade.  I always picked a locker way deep in the corner of the last row of lockers in the boy's dressing room to avoid all the kids I hated.  There was a guy that looked and seemed to be about 20 that was still in my class and one day I accidentally say him placing a hand gun into his locker.  He calmly looked at me and said " I KNOW you're never gonna tell anyone what you just saw" and I immediately shook my head "no" and scurried away.
     Anyway,  now I love the things that make me different.  I embrace the odd and unusual and love to appreciate things I don't understand.  Who the hell wants to be "normal" anyway and what exactly does that mean??  Anything is normal if that's what you love.  As long as you're not hurting others or preachily trying to inflict your views on others then do what thou whilst.  I say stay weird and eventually you will be loved and appreciated for it.






   

Mogadishu

Photo I took in Kenya in 1989

I had the rare and exotic opportunity to go to Mogadishu, Somalia - twice!  My Mom and step father moved there for 2 years for work just as I was going off to college in the fall of 1988.  The 1st time I went was a summer trip with my grandma and my 2 step sisters.  We traveled from NY to Cairo spent some time there then went off to a fabulous safari in Kenya.  After that we all headed to Mogadishu where we spent the rest of our trip.

     The timing of our travels wasn't great because Somalia which was plagued for centuries with civil unrest was, yet again, besieged in tribal war.  The fighting had made it's way into the capitol and our trip was thus doomed with a national curfew.  We were all pent up in the house from sundown to sunup, 3 antsy teenagers and 3 restless adults.  We got pretty stir crazy and even though our trip prior to Somalia was exotic and adventurous we were all bored to tears, and, also, sorta fearing for our lives.
     The next summer when the opportunity to go back arose I was the only one crazy enough or perhaps adventurous enough to go back.  This time I spent the whole summer there and got a weird job at the USAID offices setting up a document library in a shack like building filled with unorganized files and books.  It was perfect, I got paid to be alone all day surrounded by volumes of reading materials.
     To say going to Somalia was an eye opening experience is the understatement of the year.  No where on earth could be more of a polar opposite from Schenectady, NY.  At that point in my life I had never been to a Third World country and, certainly, Somalia has zero tourism - it does not top anyone's "must visit" list.  I fancied myself a very worldly chap in the late 80's, I had exotic hair and listened to music I was certain no one else knew of except my friends and I.  That being said there are some realities of life in Suburbia that don't lend themselves to truly understanding how others live.  For instance, it had NEVER occurred to me that it's not possible everywhere on earth to run to a convenient store if you desired a snack.  Sounds pompous but, really, it never crossed my mind that some places don't even have stores.  That simple observation changed my whole perspective on life.
     Mogadishu was lucky if the electricity worked on a daily basis.  Surely, most of the natives Somalians didn't even have electricity or running water and in our neighborhood - next to the other expats and dignitaries from around the globe - it was dodgy at best.  Also, in order to eat any fruit or produce locally grown we had to soak it in a 1% bleach solution due to the fact that human waste was used for fertilizer.  How would a new wave suburban boy ever know these things without experiencing them 1st hand? "Not taught in schools" could have been the theme to our trip.  I also had never, ever, EVER heard of female circumcision and I was horrified, shocked and utterly dismayed to find out that was a common practice in Somalia.  That subject is for a whole other blog - someday, maybe, I could muster up the gumption to write more about it.  Let's just say it's way worse and more barbaric than it sounds.
     One of my fondest and most vivid memories is of sitting on my parents roof in late afternoon reading books.  I found it highly prophetic that I was reading "The Temple Of My Familiar" by Alice Walker while sitting high up with a view of the whole city in East Africa.  As I read the book, which weaves a fantastical & magical tale taking place partially in Africa, I smelled the charcoal of the city wafting up to my nose.  There were no real restaurants but the locals would set up little straw huts with grills all over the streets cooking food with a very rich and distinctive smokey aroma.  I would also hear the meditative and ghostly call to prayer from the several large mosques in this primarily Muslim country.  The sounds made eerie by the outdated PA systems that they used creating a tinny and echo-y effect that made it seem as if it were coming from another time and dimension.
     I will never forget my time spent in Somalia as it literally expanded my horizons far beyond any experience I had ever had at that point.  One of the reasons why I think traveling is essential is because it forces the brain to see and experience things that are normally out of the realm of possibility.  It heightens all of your senses when you walk down a street in a foreign land.  The eyes see more, the ears hear more, the nose smells more and the brain expands in ways that cannot be taught otherwise.  Most of you will never so to Somalia, I doubt I'll ever go back, but I hope a lot of you are able to make it to some parts of Africa.  It's essential.

Powerless

Hieronymus Bosch

One of the hardest yet most poignant lessons to learn in life is that we cannot change anyone except ourselves.  This is especially tricky when addiction is involved since people suffering from that disease do need a lot of help to recover.  The problem is that you cannot force someone to change or even to want to change.  Recovery is for people who want it and not for people who need it.  The best thing to do is lead by example and hopefully, somehow, someone thinks what you have is desirable and seeks it out also.
     I have a few situations in my life at the moment that are heartbreaking but I am powerless over them.  There are 2 important people in my life who are suffering from the ravages of addiction and the poor choices one makes when embroiled in it.  I have watched the absolute downfall of some of the most fantastic and creative people and it is absolutely unbearable.  At what point do you let go and just hope for the best?  What can you do for a grown man that goes through depilating, open-heart surgery just to land back in intensive care by refusing to change his ways?  What can you do for a grown woman who lets a drug fueled mind allow her to invite a very well known woman beater to live in her home?  People have to live with and in some cases suffer from the choices they make.  Why is it that some people have such a deep down, spiritual desire to change that they find their way to freedom from active addiction?  I suppose the answers aren't really important or possible to come by.  Why is never as important as how - how can I make myself and my life better?  There's the million dollar question.
     I think back to the days when I was struggling and killing myself with drugs.  I see now so clearly how my actions, that I was certain were only affecting me, were affecting all of my friends and family.  Phone calls from concerned friends to my mother, tough love lectures from loved ones, rehab, outpatient group counseling, therapy - none of these things got me sober.  I wasn't ready or willing to give up my bad habits and commit to any kind of change.  So, I totally get it.  Because I can see these situations from both sides it has made me almost zen about them.  Of course, I have empathy and concern and sadness and tears but I know that all I can do is offer love and support.  You could point a gun in the face of someone who is waist deep in addiction and they'd still, most likely, reach for the drugs.
     The only reason that I am sober almost 14 years now is because I was lucky enough to hear a voice way, deep, down inside of me that was telling me I'd never amount to anything if I didn't change my ways.  Actually, it was more like a knowing that I would never find any peace or happiness in life if I stayed a party monster.  I've said it before but I knew that I was the only person building a road block between me and the person I was meant to be.  I could see myself slathering the cement on brick after brick literally building a huge wall in the middle of my own path.  No one else was stopping me from being happy - it was all on me.
     I wish there was no such thing as addiction.  Surely, it would be one of my 3 Aladdin wishes if I was ever really able to rub that magic lamp.  It affects so many people and causes such suffering and is still wildly misunderstood and demonized.  I had no choice but to be affected by it and it's something that will be in my life in one form or another until the end.  For now, for today, as I type this things are right in my world and I'd be a fool to not see the many blessings and luxurious that I am afforded in this life.  I hope that the people that I love that are still or yet again suffering can get to that place too.

Freedom

Frida Kahlo - The Love Embrace of the Universe,the Earth,Myself,Diego and Senor Xolotl, 1949

What is it that causes emotional pain?  Is it when reality doesn't coincide with the script we have written for ourselves in our brains? Is it when we idealize our pasts and remember them as idyllic even though they were far from it?  Is it when we project with fear about future outcomes and circumstances in our lives.?  Actual trauma obviously has lasting effects on us as humans but it's what our brains do with the information that causes the hurting. You cannot change your past but you can change how you see yourself and you can even go back and heal the child within.
     Dr. Arlene Drake who is one of the most amazing therapists and women I have ever met taught me that re-parenting myself was possible. When trauma happens we often are stunted and part of us stays frozen in that moment forever.  If trauma happens as a child that child is still trapped inside in that moment and needs to be rescued, healed and loved.  Pretty lofty stuff but it makes complete sense.  I know for me I would often re-tell and re-live circumstances from my childhood and 1/2 the time it was my subconscious bringing these moments up like an old movie playing on a loop. I couldn't escape them and much of my actions as an adult were a direct result of trying to stamp out these memories.
     I was fortunate enough to find my way to Arlene when I was actually ready to deal with and conquer my demons.  I had been sober about 5 years but I knew that I needed to delve deeper in my issues than a 12 step program could provide.  I wasn't happy and I kept picking really unavailable people to date - I was the one who was truly unavailable though.  One night I went to a large dinner party and the table was so big and loud that it was impossible to strike up a conversation with anyone who wasn't sitting directly next to me. I was seated next to my friend Debbie and for some reason I was very honest and open with her about what I was going through.  She related and told me about the intense and life changing therapy she had with Dr. Drake.  I knew I needed therapy but the task of finding someone good was daunting to say the least. Debbie gave me Arlene's card and I called her the very next day.  I was truly ready and the teacher truly appeared.
     The experiences we have never leave us but we can work on ways to not have them rule over us like a nasty warlord. In a strange way I am grateful for all that I have been through even the really painful shit because it made me into the person I am today.  Somehow, I didn't let myself or my experiences completely destroy me.  Something in me had the willingness and the desire to become a person who can honestly enjoy and even love myself and my life.  I know that I was not put on earth to be a sad and lonely person - no one is.
     Some of these ideas may seem esoteric - inner child and re-parenting, but they are the core fundamentals of overcoming trauma and childhood pain.  It's amazing to actually visualize the hurting child within and to talk to him and lead him out of the darkness.  After all, its the subconscious running the show and issues that are ignored only grow and morph into deeper issues if they aren't dealt with.  There's no such thing as emotionally sweeping things under the rug, it isn't a solution that actually works.  Instead you will create a large and dangerous emotional, dust monster that will rear it's ugly head and attack your sanity at any given moment.
     Somehow, deep down I understood that I was the only one in charge of my own happiness and sanity.  I was spiritually drawn to finding a way to deal with my pain and sorrow.  As I said above I was ready and through some miraculous (some might say) experiences I found my way to a person that could help me get over my shit!  I am forever grateful for that and now even though I still have some bad days and some residual emotions that try to drag me back down to hell I can recognize them and I don't let them take a hold of me anymore.  Me and my inner child are trudging the road of happy destiny hand in hand.

Choices

Dad & me, 1974

My Dad just had major heart surgery.  You know, the kind where they saw open your torso and pry open your skeleton like a side of beef at a butcher shop.  He was advised by doctors that he needed this surgery 11 years ago but was reluctant to do so.  I get it.  No one WANTS surgery, unless it's cosmetic.  I too would be hard pressed to just hop on the operating table if I was told by western  medicine that I needed to.  I would immediately embark on a journey of healing through nutrition, exercise, meditation and herbs.  That's me.  That's not what my Dad did.
     My Dad is an alcoholic.  So am I which is why I work so hard to maintain my 13+ years of sobriety.  My father has never stopped drinking and I don't even know if he's ever wanted to or tried to.  I haven't seen him in more years than I can count but the last time I did he pretty much subsisted on caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol.  When I talk to him now he sounds the same as he always has albeit a little less sharp with his verbal communication and there's a lot more hacking involved.  He decided to get the surgery because his wife of 30 years died pretty suddenly a few months back and now he has no real reason to stay alive - those were his words not mine.
     For me I think things would be the exact opposite.  Wouldn't you want to get as healthy as possible  to sustain longevity for the person/people you love?  The point of any intense surgery is to prolong life or at least improve the quality of it.  Because open heart surgery is clearly a huge gamble, in his eyes risking death at the doctors hands while he was still married seemed out of the question - now that he's alone the outcome is unimportant to him.  Alcoholism surely clouds, rots, and warps the brain among other things.  One of the main reasons I wanted to get sober.  I wanted to be clear in my life and know that the things I was doing were coming from a real or pure place and not one mired by toxins.
     My Dad is pushing 70 and to be quite frank I'm surprised he has made it this far.  There doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason as to when your time is up.  When I called the hospital after his surgery the nurse said she had a touchy equation to ask.  She wanted to know if my Dad was a big drinker.  Alcoholism is a deadly disease and it can wipe you out fast as a plague or it can kill you slowly and meticulously like an incurable cancer that eats away at you until you are a shriveled husk of your former self.  You could be sober and get hit by a bus or you could drink away your life into your 90s.  For me it came down to quality of life.
     Originally, I got sober because heroin was bound to kill me fast the way I was going.  When I started drinking again a while after rehab I never went back to heroin but I partied like it was 1999 most nights of the week.  That was the myth in my head that BIG, BAD, HEROIN was the culprit and not me and my destructive behavioral patterns and choices.  I ran with that for a long time.  I looked fine, I worked at least 5 nights a week and always had a fat pocket full of bar tending money.  No one was pointing their fingers at me telling me I had better change or else but...deep, down inside I knew that I was spiritually empty and that my life was pretty hollow.  Just a series of nights and mornings that all blended together with some fun in between but mostly just a cycle of getting wasted, sleeping it off and repeat.
     I'm not sure if my Dad is happy.  I know that of late he is in mourning but beyond that I have no idea.  I don't know if he had dreams that all fell by the wayside and goals that were left in a heap like yesterday's trash.  For me, I knew that alcohol was a self-imposed road block to the real me and that if I had any hopes of finding my way to that person I had better change my ways.  I got sober for me which is the only reason why I think it's worked this time around.  I really wanted to find out where I could go in this life and who I could become and to know what it truly meant to love - especially myself.
     I hope my Dad recovers and feels better.  I have long ago lost hope that he would ever lead a different life style.  I'm not sure what the quality of his life will be post-surgery.  His wife is gone, his health is hanging on by a thread and the worst part, for me at least, is that that the adventure is all gone.  I want to be like my beautiful Grandma Molly who was robust and curious up until her 90s.  I want to feel good and look good and continue to learn and grow and explore this beautiful, vast planet.  If I was still drunk I wouldn't have any of those choices.  I want to continue to go to sleep every night fully aware of the things I have done and the day I have had and not try to black out to ease the pain and shame of my behaviors.  For me self love is my top priority and that's exactly what sobriety is.


   

Wisdom

Beautiful Mom & Grandma, 1981

The other day while talking to my mom I heard something I had never heard before. She said that people who struggle and struggle their whole lives but never seem to get past their troubles are younger souls. They haven't been around for enough lifetimes to get past their obstacles. The people that conquer their turmoils and learn to flourish despite obstacles are older souls.  They've been around many lifetimes and have had more time to grow.  Wise words, indeed.  I firmly believe that we are reincarnated again and again in order to learn the lessons we are meant to. Perhaps when we truly become fully evolved beings our souls are then set free and our time on earth is done.
     The idea of reincarnation was never unusual to me. As a very young boy my Grandma Molly told me about reincarnation and I belived it.  Molly was also a very wise and spiritual woman and she opened my mind up to a lot of ideas that would be considered esoteric to some.  After learning about that I was 100% certain that I was King Tut reincarnated, I was beyond fascinated with Egypt and Egyptian mythology - perfect for a future goth.  When my mom got me tickets (2 years in advance) for the King Tut exhibit at The Metropolitan Museum of Art I was never happier. Grandma Molly lived waking distance to The Met and I always loved spending time with her in that magical place.
     Every time I talked to my grandma I felt like I learned something new. Even in her 90's she was still learning things about herself and was open to the fact that there is always more knowledge out there.  In fact, she taught me that we actually know less as we get older or, more accurately, we learn that we are just a small piece of a vast universe and many questions have no answers.  The same goes for my mom now.  Sometimes she just has a lovely insight into a situation or puts something into a perspective that I hadn't thought of. She's an amazing listener which leads to greater insight - when someone really hears your words they understand them more.  Most people are too busy thinking about what they are going to say next to actually hear what you are trying to convey.
     I've always felt a deeper connection to the matriarchal side of my family.  My whole life I've had a closer and more in tune relationship with women.  Even though I'm gay I've had a harder time communicating with men.  Maybe it's because the examples I had of who was actually around physically and emotionally were the women in my family.  My Grandpa was a very hardworking and loyal man and was always supporting us financially but I never felt close to him and I had a hard time having conversations with him.  At one point when I was a kid I had 5 grandmas (including 2 great grandmas and a step grandma) and 3 of them I was very close to.
     Now, every time I talk to my mom and even my dad, on occasion, I find that I gain some kind of insight or new perspective.  When I talk to my dad I usually learn something about myself and, often, the conclusions I come to are slightly uncomfortable.  With my mom though, besides the comfort and love I feel from her I also tend to hear pearls of wisdom and insight on how to navigate the rocky waters of life.  I try to be more like her all the time by being a better listener and trying to be more gentle - especially with myself.

The Kiss

"The Kiss" by  Gustav Klimt, 1907

Love comes in many forms, sizes and shapes.  Often, it comes at unexpected times and in unexpected ways.  The problem I encountered for many, many years was comparing all of my relationships to the one that I had idealized the most in my memory.  I was left unhappy and unsatisfied because nothing was ever exactly the same as that relationship again.  The truth of the matter is that every relationship is different and even the ways that love is felt can be different with each person.
     Some love is quiet and steady like a mountain stream and some love is wild and intense like an ocean at high tide.  Some love is easy, breezy and beautiful and some love is tumultuous,  tempestuous and tragic.  Sometimes lust is misconstrued for love and sometimes real love is rejected out of fear.  I think that deep, down inside we all know what is really good for us even if we cannot admit it when we are in it.  All I know is that it should feel good and not be a constant source of pain.  As obvious as that sounds a lot of people, myself included, have mistaken love for pain and tolerated much more than one should.
     My last and longest long-term relationship was very easy and simple in the beginning.  We hit it off, started dating and eased into a 4.5 year relationship.  There was never any huge fireworks or rocket-blasting, train-racing-through-a-tunnel passion but it was nice and mostly loving, at first.  I thought I finally knew what real love was.  The other things I had experienced were more like lust in the dust - fast, cheap, and outta control but not lasting.  The problem was that easy and simple turned into mundane and passion-less.  I started to go to bed and wake up feeling very alone and unloved even though I was physically sleeping next to another person.  I had resigned myself to spending the rest of my life with a man who was not warn and fuzzy and certainly not intimate on the level that I require.
     After it ended I was dead set that I would not embark on any kind of relationship again, at least not for a long, long time.  I also was completely aware that the purpose of that relationship was to teach me that I was, indeed, capable of sustaining and being involved in a long-term endeavor.  I had never experienced that before and was beginning to think I was unlovable and incapable of long-term love.  It didn't work out but it taught me a huge life lesson so essentially it was invaluable.  That lesson trumped the immediate feelings of failure and shame that I experienced directly following the break-up.
     Now, I have met someone quite unexpectedly that sent electric sparks throughout my entire being upon the very 1st kiss.  My ex actually told me at one point that people in relationships don't make out with each other!  WHAT???  Well, then who the fuck does?  I mean, this coming from the guy that couldn't even lift his head off the couch to mutter a "hello" when I returned home from a long-ass day of work.  My new boyfriend literally jumps up and runs to greet me with so much love in his being it almost makes me cry tears of joy.  It's that feeling where all you can think about is making out and every kiss is as exciting as the 1st.  Clearly, this is a different kind of love and the kind that I like a lot.  Like I love it!
     It's amazing to look at someone and see them beaming back at you with hearts in their eyes like a silly and cute emoji.  Nothing feels better and I think that the me of today is open to receiving it and giving it back.  My old self was closed off and scared and felt damaged and broken.  Those days are long over now and the hills are alive with the sound of music (and NOT Lady Gaga's version!!)  OK, I'm not THAT corny and/or gay but I am feeling very loved and loving and that's a pretty great place to reside.
     For many reasons lately, including basic sanity, I'm trying my best to live in the moment.  To not fall into the trap of wanting or thinking I need more than I have.  The key to happiness is loving what you have and not always trying to get what you want.  Of course, if you work hard, stay the course, persevere, and enjoy yourself oftentimes the things you want come along as well.  The same goes for relationships - you don't NEED one to survive but it's like the cherry on top of a delicious sundae.  Right now I'm blessed to have met a super sweet, loving and affectionate cherry and it just might be because I attracted a like-minded soul into my life.  Yeah, I think I'll go with that!




   
   

Oceanside

My current view 

What is it about the ocean that brings an instant calm to my soul? How is it that in this day and age there can still be something so majestic and powerful that it cleanses away all of my stresses and worries?  I'm currently reclining in a hammock on a 2nd story porch overlooking the bluest and calmest waters. There  is a slight ripple on the surface from the warm islsnd breeze other than that the robin's egg blue water is peaceful and quiet. Sure, the ocean is fierce and powerful and can cause serious damage but it's also a tranquil being. I suppose it mirrors the human experience in that way.

    I'm in Turks & Caicos which is a slice of paradise on earth but that feeling of the waters washing away all the BS of life happens to me whenever I'm near the ocean. I've had the same feeling at Coney Island, Province Town, Fire Island and even in Mogadishu, Somailia (yeah, I get around.)  That must be why humans have worshipped the seas and prayed with the tides for centuries now. The waves and currents magnetically, magically remove and infuse. It's like the earth breathing - in with the new out with the old. Everything that's important can be found in nature, it's what we are made of.

     It's so easy to get far removed from the true meanings of life. Especially when you live in LA, NYC, Chicago, Paris, London - any metropolitan area where the landscape is ruled by fame and fortune. Sure, it's awesome to be rewarded for your hard work and perseverance but no bank account or closet full of designer duds will ever soothe and nourish your soul.  I think what most humans are really after is love and peace and joy. If you could remove all circumstances of finance from the equation what would you love to be doing in this life?  It's not an easy question to answer for some.  I know I've struggled my whole life trying to figure out what I'm "supposed" to be doing. The one thing I know for sure is that it's important for me to do my best possible job even if I'm working in a situation that isn't my ideal. I can never get to another level if I don't love and respect the level I'm at. 

     Part of the reason why I've always been so adamant about travel and vacations is because it makes me love and appreciate my life even more when I can step away from it.  I love living in the city even though it gets tiring with all the people and cars in your face everyday.  Removing myself from that temporarily and sitting by the most fabulous source of nature reminds me that the world is huge and that I'm just a small part of it. This giant ocean clearly does not set its schedule based on my needs and desires. It's actually refreshing to realize that you are not in charge. I'm simply here to try and be the best version of myself that I can be and if that's all I ever accomplish it's totally enough. 

Don't Dis - Courage

My house for the next week!!!

I had an experience yesterday that left me feeling defeated.  I had a meeting with someone about a possible awesome opportunity and I was under the impression that I was getting my foot in the door before anyone else.  Turns out that I was actually really late in the game.  I was floored by this information even though I kept my sunny game face on.  This person told me not to be discouraged but the second she said that I went to that deep, dark place of "nothing EVER works out for me!"  It's like when you're upset and someone says "calm down" and a veil of red closes over your eyes and you wish that person bodily harm - perhaps that's just me but I highly doubt it.  Of course, she was right any number of things could happen because when you are dealing with humans there is always a large margin of error.  Tell 'em Large Margin sent ya!
     We can't control circumstances in life but what we can control is our reaction to them.  Unfortunately, after the meeting I was dejected, depressed and disconcerted and the only thing I could really do was take a nap.  That helped a bit.  I didn't stay in my dark place too long I eventually let it go and tried my best to see things in a glass half-full perspective.  I was bummed with myself for defaulting to that self-defeating mode.  All of these thousands of years of therapy that I've had, all the hard work that I've done on myself and I still default (at times) to gloom and doom.  This is why I find it incessantly annoying to be human.  Feelings.  Damn then to hell!  Don't even get me started on having to go to the bathroom - ugh!
     Today, I can see that the experience was actually very positive.  The meeting went very well and the woman I met said at least 3 times that she loved talking to me.  We talked about art, fashion, travel, Kate Bush even.  It was a great conversation if nothing else.  So, now, the outcome is not up to me - I showed up and did my best and that's all one can ever do.  I can forgive myself for becoming a gloomy teenager again because at least it only lasted 2 hours instead of 20 years.
     Often I wonder if I will ever figure out my purpose in this world.  Will I ever get to a place where all the pieces fall into place and career-wise it comes together?  I said to a friend earlier that at least all my exploring has made for a rich and colorful life.  I'm pretty sure that the only person on earth who ever thinks I am a failure is me.  One of my lessons in this life is to learn to be gentle and kind to myself, it's the hardest thing for me.  I'd never put up with the BS I inflict upon myself from anyone else.  In fact, I'd send that chump packing for judging me so.  Perhaps I should send that negative, bitter, judge-y part of myself packing - a one way ticket to oblivion please!
     Speaking of packing,  tomorrow I am off to Turks & Caicos for a week long vacation in paradise.  I'm excited to fulfill my rule of going to 1 new place every year and I also plan on leaving my brain at home.  I will not think about anything except the scenery while I'm gone and all the stresses of city life can stay behind in the city.  That is a reality that I have created for myself so, really, life is pretty amazing.

Fear of the Unknown

I have never been afraid to try new things or to go to new places.  However, I am pretty terrified when I think about the future, for some reason I primarily only project negative thoughts.  This is one of the reasons why living in the now is so essential to happiness.  Of course, it's impossible, even for Oprah or Eckhart Tolle, to be 100% in the now.  The human condition prevents this from being a reality.  We can practice and strive and aim and try though - constantly moving forward and doing our best to grow and change.
     It's also tricky to know the difference between making goals and projecting.  One cannot simply sit around and wish for the best and take no action.  Also, obsessing about every single detail of events that have yet to happen is detrimental.  I have learned that the trick is to set the goals, take all necessary and available steps and then let the outcome go - the outcome is not in our hands.  Sounds easy, right?  Hahaha, it sure ain't.
     Recently I had an amazing audition for a big national commercial for a well known product.  It went very well and I received a callback.  The night before my callback I decided that I would bring my A game and really show up and be available.  I meditated on prosperity that night (certainly, not an everyday practice for me), ate a healthy dinner, went to bed early and got a great night's sleep.  The next day I woke up and before I even got out of bed I decided I would have an amazing day and do my best to keep positive.  I had a healthy smoothie, exercised, and then went to the callback.  I even did a 5 minute meditation in the car before I went in just to center myself and calm my brain.
     When I walked into the room the clients and casting people were all very warm and receptive (usually, they act like you are not even present.)  I was charming, funny and had the room laughing.  I did my absolute best and I left feeling great.  As I was walking to the car I decided that no matter what the outcome was that I would be proud of myself for doing all I could do knowing that the rest was out of my hands.  It's hard to not think about the money in these situations.  National commercials can be big bucks and I'm the type of guy that spends money in my head that I have not even earned yet.
      I did not book the job - perhaps they went with a blonde guy, I will never know the real reason.  I did my best to not get into a downward spiral of failure and self - judgement.  I didn't achieve that 100% but I did maintain a pretty decent level of keeping positive for doing my best.  I also realized that I made some great connections at that callback and that in the future I would probably work with those people or, at least, audition for them again.  You never know when the results of your actions will take place.  Sometimes the things you do set a whole string of events in motion and lead to a place you were not expecting.  Things rarely happen in the time that we are expecting but everything always does happen as it was meant to.  Another hard lesson to learn.  Again, do your absolute best and let go of the outcome.
     I have found that a lot of things that were not meant to be in my life have been stripped away this past year.  It's as the universe is doing the work that I did not know how to do myself.  The main problem that I am having now is that I hear the message loud and clear yet I do not know what is next or which direction I'm to go in.  I can blindly jump and hope it's not the precipice of a cliff that I'm teetering over.  Perhaps I am just standing on a large rock and the landing will be manageable and relatively painless?   Why is it that the most growth comes from experience that are hard and painful?  How come all the happy moments in life don't teach us the deepest lessons?  I suppose the pain and difficulty we experience make the happy times that much sweeter.  If there was no hardship we would never know when we were actually happy - there'd be no gauge to the experience.  For now, in this very moment, as I type this everything is actually OK.

   
   

Creativity

Last page of a story I wrote in 3rd grade

When I was a little kid all I liked to do was draw and paint.  I used to make books of my drawings -  for instance, I once drew the alphabet in animals with names that corresponded to very letter.  Art supplies were always my favorite gifts.  I was obsessed with a Crayola Caddy that my mom bought me for Christmas one year.  It was like a lazy susan that was filled with paint, markers, pencils and crayons in a rainbow of Crayola colors.  I even won a few prizes at art shows and contests around town and had a watercolor painting a did of a deer in snow with a fuchsia sky on display at the local library branch.
     I'm not exactly sure when I let the creativity slip away for the 1st time.  My parents got divorced when I was 7 and that was physically, mentally and emotionally crippling for me at that age.  Some other traumatizing life events took place after that coupled with the fact that I was cruelly teased and bullied in school - all of this lead me to retreat within myself with a profound desire to escape and disappear.  I exiled myself to TV Land and anything else that would distract me from the emotional pain I felt in reality.  I would shop lift and spend my whole afternoon at the arcade and slowly and surly the creative stuff fell by the wayside.  Of course later on when I discovered drugs and alcohol it was a match made in heaven - until it turned to hell.
     When I got to high school I finally had like minded friends.  We were definitely a motley crew but the thing that bound us all together was a level of intelligence that was generally missing from the majority of our high school peers.  We sought out cool bands and artists to explore and we challenged and accepted each other no matter what freaky style we had going on.  It was a pretty creative group to say the least.  In my senior year of high school I felt like I was ready to explore my creative outlets again, being surrounded by all of my artsy friends inspired me.  I took a ceramics class with this amazing art teacher that had been my mortal enemy in 9th grade.  This time around we got along like gang busters and I let her teach me and expand my horizons and it felt great to make art again.
     Around this time I had also started doing photography.  I took some classes and got an amazing camera for my Bday and even joined the yearbook committee which was a life saver my senior year.  It meant a stack of hall passes and "get outta class free" cards that my favorite English/Photography teacher & yearbook advisor had given me at the start of the year.  I spent a majority of my year stoned in the darkroom and then had the privilege of flooding my senior yearbook with photos of all the cool kids and paying little mind to the jocks.  It was a very Breakfast Club moment.
     Since then my life has been this constant tug-of-war between me and my creative side.  For some reason when life gets tough I'm generally inclined to let the artistic side go instead of exploring it and using it to reach new heights and depths of art.  These days I've gotten a lot better at expressing myself and even let some of my uglier truths rise to the surface so I can tell on myself and free myself from them.  The writing has helped a lot.
     I 1st got the idea to write a book of my stories about 8 years ago on a trip to Costa Rica.  I was going to meet a large group of friends, mostly from NYC, and when I booked my travel I had the dates wrong.  I ended up arriving 4 days before everyone else and it was the best thing that could've happened.  In those 4 days all of the stresses of city life melted away, I read 2 books and had this creative avalanche pour out of me when I put pen to paper to start jotting down one of my famous stories involving a really expensive pair of custom made pants and some cheap ass cocaine (you'll have to read the book!)  It was one of those moments when the words literally flowed out of me as if it wasn't even me writing.  The pen was furiously scribbling words on paper and I was sitting in the backseat like a passenger or observer.  When you have those moments while you are creating something it is truly magically - it's when everything aligns and you are really in the moment.
     Just this year I have re-committed myself to finishing this book that was conceived on the sands of the beach, next to the jungle of Costa Rica many moons ago.  I have been getting up every day a 1/2 hour earlier than normal so that I can write before my day gets going.  Some days it's a challenge and other days the words flow out from that magical sweet spot of creativity.  The book will be done in a few moths time and I cannot wait to share my ridiculous happenings with you and the world!!!!











   

Judgement

"The Last Judgement" by Hieronymus Bosch, 1482(ish)

I had a pretty big lesson in judgment yesterday.  It all started with a phone call from my Dad.  I don't talk to my Dad much, in fact, the last time we spoke on the phone was Christmas of 2013.  It's a complicated relationship - he left when I was 7 and for a while he would take me on the weekends until his alcoholism escalated and he could no longer show up.  Doesn't take Freud or Reich or Dr. Drew to figure out that all of my abandonment issues and fear of love stem from that.  My Dad put alcohol in his #1 slot and because of that everything else fell to the wayside.
     As most of you know I recently celebrated 13 years sober and now I can clearly see that my Dad's choices in life had nothing to do with me.  That was an impossibility to understand at 7, 8, 9, 10+ years old but now I have empathy for him and I know that he suffers more than anyone.  I have no idea if he's ever tried to stop drinking or even considered it but I do know that as an alcoholic myself it is a source of great shame in one's life.  It was in mine.
     My Dad is a very smart, funny, kind and compassionate man and he had the potential to do great things.  Unfortunately, that never happened.  I do not know what his darkness is and what demons he battles daily.  Alcoholism is a cunning mistress and you either have it or you don't - it doesn't matter what your background is.  Also, it takes A LOT of work to keep it at bay and not engage actively in it and most people afflicted by it do not overcome their fears or do not want to.  Anyone who has any experiences with people that are alcoholics know, too, that you cannot force, cajole, coax, or implore someone to change unless they really want to.
     My Dad called to say that Dar, his 4th wife, had passed away.  After finding a cyst on her back she was diagnosed with a rapidly expanding cancer that had riddled a large portion of her body.  It was too far gone for any treatment and there was nothing that could be done medically.  The diagnosis was around Thanksgiving and she passed away 2 days ago.  They had been together for 28 years.  He said that he was a basket case but he sounded much better than I would have given the circumstances.  
     We talked for a while about what had been going on leading up to this horrible event.  My Dad was telling me about his neighborhood and the friends they have and while he was telling me a story he nonchalantly told me a piece of information that floored me.  He said in a rather matter-of -fact manner that he had a side "business" that all the local people helped him with.  He said he collected cans to cash in for extra money so he didn't have to spend all his social security.  It broke my heart to hear him say this.  The way he said it though was so casual and without shame that it must seem completely normal to him with the lifestyle he leads.
     I was faced immediately with my own harsh and nasty judgments.  I call the people that collect cans "can farmers" and I get so angry when they rifle through my trash cans on garbage night.  Why?  Why do I judge so harshly?  Ironically, my biggest, most irrational fear is that will be homeless in the streets living in a cardboard box.  A lot of the people that collect cans aren't even homeless and, like my Dad, do it to get by and to survive.  It's actually a noble cause and another 1/2 full view is that it aides in cleaning up the trash and recycling.
     Still, here I was the person that is constantly thinking that I have to do more, make more, better myself and improve my station hearing that my Dad is a can farmer.  It really put me and my ego in check.  At least my Dad has caring people around him that bring him their bottles and cans because they know it helps him out.  At least it's a task he can accomplish or a reason to get out of the house.  I'm not sure how my Dad maintains a rather sunny disposition while constanlty faced with the grim reality of active alcoholism but somehow he does.  All I know is that next time I see someone on the street with their shopping cart full of cans and bottles that I will give them a warm smile instead of rolling my eyes and putting myself above any other human.

Ten - Thirteen

NYE 2014 - 2015

Ten years ago yesterday I moved to LA from NYC.  That also means that in 2 days, if all goes well, I will be sober for 13 years.  Those are pretty decent sized numbers if you ask me.  For about 8 years I was saying that I lived in LA for 5 years until I realized that I had been spouting that fact for at least 4 years running.  I'm not great at math but I came to the conclusion that I had been here longer than it seemed.  Sometimes I feel as if I just got here and it definitely does not feel like a decade has passed.

     I had been mulling over the prospect of "go west young man" for a few years but I just couldn't decide.  I asked other people what they thought and no one else had any satisfying answers either.  I waited until I had been sober for several years before I decided to uproot my life and go to the furthest coast away from the East Village.  It's suggested that you don't make any radical decisions in the 1st year of recovery because it's simple too overwhelming, stress inducing and, often, can trigger relapse.  Because of that I stayed working as a bar tender 5 nights a week while I was a newcomer to recovery.  The weird thing is that I became the best bar tender ever because all of the sudden I was focused on my job and concentrating on making money for the club and myself and not distracted by partying behind the bar.  Funny how things work.

     Once I made the firm decision in my mind that I was "Hollywood or bust" it seems that all of these doors magically unlocked.  The whole time I was hemming and hawing all of my plans and ideas seemed hazy but the moment I decided for sure doors sprang open.  A friend contacted me out of the blue because he had been traveling for over a year and was coming back to NYC in Jan. with just a backpack and no other belongings.  He needed a place to stay and I just happened to be leaving my apartment fully furnished.  Perfect.  

     Then, I had decided I should take an acting class in LA but the task of finding a good one seemed insurmountable.  One day I was out and about on a snowy, NYC afternoon and I stopped at one of my favorite places for lunch.  I heard a woman talking and her voice was instantly recognizable.  It was my Grandma's friend Jean-Ann who has a very distinctive, bold, boisterous, NY voice.  I approached her table and was going to ask if she remembered me (hadn't seen her in a decade) and she immediately looked up and proclaimed "Gregory!"  She said my grandma had mentioned my plans to relocate and then for no apparent reason I said I was going to look for an acting class.  Well, lo and behold her sister Robin was a working actress in LA who, it just so happened, was starting an acting class in the new year (2005).  She said I would love Robin because they had similar personalities and I always loved Jean-Ann!!!  Again, crazy how stuff works out. 

     To be quite frank I moved to LA because I wanted to be on TV.  I mean, I had already appeared in a national Always Panty Liners (no joke) commercial and played a - wait for it...junkie on "Law & Order: Criminal Intent."  But, I wanted to do a lot more of that.  I easily signed with an agent out here because, like I said, things were all falling into place and I started booking more national commercials.  Most of you already know the story but a few years later seemingly out of the blue I got a call to come meet Kat Von D ASAP to discuss the possibility of being the new shop manager on LA Ink.  Of course, that's exactly what I did and there it was - I was on TV regularly and it was tons of fun for a while.

     Now, it's a new year and I realize that I haven't set any new goals for myself lately.  Looking back it seems like most of the goals that I did set came true in one way or another.  The thing about making goals, writing them down, saying then out load, shouting them to the universe is that most often they do materialize!!  They usually don't happen in the manner or time frame in which you expect though which is why its important to keep expectations in check.  You absolutely can create the magic that you desire in your life and be the alchemist of your own destiny.

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” 

― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist