Saturday, December 13, 2014

When You're Strange

The Doors are such an iconic band. From their awesome music catalog with liberating messages that saved lives and made babies during the peace and sexual revolution in the 1960's and 70's to the life and death of their troubled and beautiful lead singer, Jim Morrison, they're forever etched in history as one of the greatest bands.

I was first introduced to the band as a boy in elementary school when I heard their classic, "People Are Strange", while watching the 1980's horror classic The Lost Boys with my mother. She always had a knack for introducing my siblings and I to iconic films and artists from the 80's. She lived her early adult life in that time period and the music, film and culture has transcended time barriers and still remains relevant today. I'll always thank her for that.

Regarding this piece, I just feel fucking strange. Some days I think it's all in my head, but most days it's so evident that it can be proven scientifically.

I try not to let things alter my mood and stress impact my outlook, but like most people, that can be hard.

This month I realized that 3 months in I don't like my job. It's the number one place to work according to every revered publication and has great benefits, but at the end of the day I'm not certain it's a great fit.

I experienced a honeymoon phase with the Bay Area, the natural beauty, the "newness" and finally landing some gay friends, but all of those feelings are sailing away.

The truth is, I have a job where I work 10-12 hours a day and commute 3 to 4 hours on top of that. I can go a whole day and not see one person that looks like me and the guys here aren't into black men, black men included.

So when you're dark skinned, HIV positive and living in the Bay, you're essentially the epitome of Ellison's best work.

Reacting to that I found myself doing things I would never do before and connecting with people out of desperation that I probably wouldn't elsewhere.

I started hanging out with an escort and as we all know, birds of a feather flock together. So I started his line of work. I didn't need the money, but I was connecting with him as another gay black man in the area. I wasn't having sex voluntarily so I figured what the hell.

That ended up biting me in the ass, socially. This week two guys that I met online, a fat one I never had any real interest in in the Bay and a "sexually liberated" one that discovered me on xtube that lives in LA that I'll refer to as "smooches" due to his ass tattoos, both attacked me for being an escort. Called me fake, a liar, moral-less and one even said he was disgusted by me.

Well I'll let "Smooches" and the overweight guy go on with their lives. Truthfully one I just wanted sex from, he's a Beyonce stan (hate those) and the other just isn't physically attractive and his personality, needy and aggressive, just makes it worse.

Yeah, I was one of the Lost Boys myself, out here putting a price on my body, but what the hell. How long was I supposed to go without any sex? If I can't get it for free, why not get paid for it?

Moving along, I found myself becoming increasingly more isolated today. A friend of mine is visiting from Chicago this weekend and I couldn't hang out with him because after going to have sex with this guy I met on jack'd that turned out to be married, he and his spouse, who I both fucked, moved here from Atlanta where they met, for work.

Imagine that? Two guys meeting in Atlanta, falling in love and getting married. Take that haters!

I was traveling to visit my friend when I got into a collision this morning that totaled my car. I walked away with minor injuries and no car, so naturally I was in a bad mood today.

Between chubster, smooches, my job and this accident, I just want to go away. Somewhere. Not sure where.

A place where people accept young men with HIV and melanin in their skin as human beings. A place where I don't have to change my value system to fit in like in DC. A place where I can get lost. A place where I can be free.

I think I know where that is, I had the feeling once and I've been chasing it since.

One day I'm hoping to take a bite out of the Big Apple again. Until then faces will keep coming out of the rain and people will continue to forget my name.


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