I think I may be insane. FUCK!

Yep, I think it has finally happened. I used to think this kind of thing was funny. My aunt would run around the house ass out naked thinking that demons were running after her and my entire family would laugh and joke about it in secret. I was definitely one of them. Mocking her pain behind her back. I guess I deserve this.

It started a couple of weeks ago. I started to hear voices on the other side of my wall telling me they were going to kill me, I almost jumped out of the window in fear (My window is three floors up just to let you know.). At the time I thought nothing of it, the hallucinations were drug induced, that is until now.

It started as low, faint voices. Things that I could barely hear but were still curious. I began attempts to perceive what I was hearing and pretty soon the voices got louder. Soon I started making out what they were saying. The strange thing is, the voices were that of my inner voice, my conscious had actually manifested itself. This makes it even worse, because now I don't know if I am having delusions based on my constantly self denigrating psyche, or if these are actually real.

FUCK.

The Luck of the Normal

I really don't like being called a faggot when my sexuality is no one elses business but my own. Most of the time it happens when I am not even talking or acknowledging the person who said it. I don't like feeling like less of a man. I really don't like feeling like an abomination. I hate feeling like a bitch when I cry after someone that I never knew, someone that I wasn't even looking at, someone that I will never know actually exists other than a voice that I heard, insulted me. I hate this perpetual cycle of self hate that I constantly go through that not only manifests itself mentally, but also physically.

I swear sometimes I just want to get a gun and shoot them all. I am normal, this is my luck.

P.S. I hate you too.

The Definition Of Reclusiveness

I remember a place in the space time continuum where I absolutely loved going outside. I loved the way the sun beat warm against my cheeks. The breeze whipping my untucked shirt tail to and fro. The people on the side of the street waving hello as they walked past and I returning their sentiments. That time was long ago, that feeling has died.

I was recently invited to a birthday party at a cafe in the city and I accepted the offer, I did not go. This morning I was invited to go and have breakfast at the same place by another person, again I declined. Why do you ask? Because in my heart I do not like San Francisco. I don't like being judged constantly on what I look like, or what I like and what I don't like. I am used to a place where people mind their own business and don't sit on the sidewalk and crack on people as they walk by.

Don't get me wrong, there are places in the city where people do mind their own business. Sadly the Castro is not one of them. The Castro district is an oversexed oversized cruiser spot with way too many bitchy fags. When I came to this city I was looking for a brotherhood. A place where I would finally belong simply because of the fact that I was a gay man. I didn't find that place. What I found was a crystal meth soaked meat market that completely forgot that most of America hates us and that we need to band together and love each other.I'm not asking you to fuck me. I own a computer, if I get that horny then I will use the internet for what it was invented for, porn and cruising. I would just like a place full of the love that San Francisco itself supposedly once stood for. Sadly though, I think that's too much to ask for.

The Sound of Music

Every once in a while you hear something that changes the game for you completely. You could be a christian who has just caught wind that scientist have found a way to make the desert sands fertile by waterproofing them. You could have heard that your best friend has a crush on you after you have secretly loved him/her for years. Or you could be a man who is lost but has somehow found a tiny shimmer of light in the milky smooth ballad of a lovely London native. I would be the latter.

What siren song could have moved me so? What vocal nepenthe could have soothed my heart so? Why it was none other than the lovely Chasing Pavements by Adele. Until about three hours ago I had only heard of this voluptuous enchantress whilst watching an episode of Ugly Betty. But now I curse myself for not searching the doldrums for her sooner.

That is all, I just felt like rambling on about this.

Mr. Self Destruct

I have a problem. It's more like a cancer in my psyche. I don't know how to fix it.

I am severely overweight and agoraphobic and it is pathetic. I was just outside throwing away some trash, which was actually the remnants of several days worth of junk food that had piled up. That's right, pure food trash. Anyway, as I approached the trash room of my building, I noticed this guy who lives here as well. I don't know his name, I don't know anything about him other than the fact that he scares the shit out of me. This guy is beyond morbidly obese. It is a miracle that he is still walking. I am so afraid that I may one day turn into that. I am not cool with that at all.

I am lazy and sluggish and it is getting on my nerves. I say that I am agoraphobic, but that is a lie. I am just too fucking ashamed of being too big to be weighed on one of those scales that you buy to put in your restrooms. I have to use the scales at the gym. I cannot keep on doing this to myself. It's even kind of painful for me to write this down. In the sadness of my life for some reason I allowed myself to become this thing. This horrible, sad sack of a man. This cycle of self sabotage has got to somehow stop before I have reached the point of no return.

Pornography Fabulosity

OK, this might hit a soft spot with some people. So I would like to say that for those of you who do not agree with what I am saying, I don't knock what you like. I am just telling my story and the fact that I don't really like this kind of thing.

So I was looking over on demand dvd's from Xtube when I came across this one that read "Fabulous Forties". Really guys? Why do we use that word? Why must we be "Fabulous". That word to me just seems like something that the straight media imposed on us to make us funny to them. Screw being funny. Actually, fuck being funny. Now I love being funny, especially to straight people. And I do understand that that is one of the easiest ways to be accepted by a group of homophobics. They already think you are weird and crazy, so why not just turn that nervousness that they feel into laughter. But that hideous word has permeated into our culture so much that it is in our pornography?

Now I cannot speak for anyone other than myself, but I don't think that any other word is less erotic to me than fabulous. It actually sounds a little homophobic to me. Hold on a second, there is another word that is less erotic, Queen. Now I am sure that it was all good in the seventies. What with the Stonewall riots, the actual band "Queen" rocking the charts, and the uber queen of all time Sir. Elton. But this is 2009. We have come a hell of a long way despite the fact that we have miles yet to travel. I don't feel like having the stigma of being a queen held above my head. The word queen is defined as a FEMALE sovereign or monarch. I am a MALE sovereign or monarch. And when or if I am lucky enough to have someone rule alongside me, I want another king not a queen.

Gay men of the world, we are MEN. Why do we keep letting people deny us our penises and high levels of testosterone. I submit to you that we must scream from the highest rafters in every voice we have, high pitched, deep baritone or whatever, I AM A MAN AND I REFUSE TO BE ACKNOWLEDGE IN ANY OTHER WAY!

Now again I say that I am not knocking any other gay mans choice to be called whatever they would like to be called. But I ask you, are you saying that you are a queen because you are a queen, or are you just trying to perpetuate a stereotype in order to feel better in a society that dislikes you. If you truly know that you are a candidate for that first statement, then wave your queen flag high and grab your cock at the world smiling. But if you are contestant number two, FUCK THAT SHIT! I apologize for my strong language, but the truth is that if they don't like you the best thing to do is to just be who you are and tell them to go eat a pussy. I say that we need to bring an entirely new revolution to the table. We are gay, we are men, stop trying to feminize those of us who aren't. I may be feeling fabulous, but I am not fabulous. I am awesome, for now and forever more.

The It's It of revelation

So one of my friends came over on sunday with a gift for me, an It's It. Now I am not sure, but I think they are only sold in the Bay Area and nowhere else. Irregardless, I have never had one before. I have seen them before though. Up until this point I always thought that they were just glorified Klondike bars, which I hate. But these things are so much more. Now an It's It consists of an ice cream sandwich made of vanilla ice cream between two oatmeal cookies and covered in chocolate. HEAVEN.

As I bit into it for the first time I was brought into a state of perpetual bliss that actually innduced 7 whole minutes of dancing. Actually it was the treat mixed with the new Ciara album (which slaps something wicked). While dancing I realized exactly how much I needed to be dancing. To quote Karen of Mean Girls, my boobs can predict the weather. Point being...MEN SHOULDN'T HAVE BOOBS! So I resolved to renewing my membership to 24 Hour Fitness. I like this gym because I can go in the middle of the night when no one else is there and excercise in peace.

So after about 20 minutes of arguing about my credit card (long story), my transaction was approved and the sky was now the limit. My goal is to just get used to going to the gym everyday to at least run on the eliptical. I deduce that all of that good weight loss stuff will just fall right in if I just create some good gym habits. But alas, I am still slightly averse to the gym that I go to though. Don't get me wrong, I don't let that hinder me from going (that I blame on lack of funds to pay the membership bill). But I find the gym daunting for several reasons. One of which being the fact that I am 23 years old, which means that I am constantly randy for no reason at all. When I lived in Alabama I knew my place. I dared not even glance at a hot guy in the gym. But now I live in San Fran. Not only that but I go to a very gay gym, so when I am trying my best not to look, I just feel like a loser. And then there is the possibiity that I actually am following proper gym etiquette by keeping my eyes to myself, which only proves to further my frustration and angst.

Now I am not saying that I want to go into the showers and screw someone. I have always been a lets get to know each other kind of person. On top of that, I don't really do well with talking to new people anyway. But some of these people are just GORGEOUS and I don't know how to control the urge to get lost in every bead of sweat rolling down their bodies as they hit the thirty minute mark on the treadmill in front of me. Only time will tell I guess. Either way, learning something new is always different. But why do the romans here have to be so different from everything that I am used to? I just want to do what they do and they are making it impossible to figure out what that is!