Monday, February 28, 2005

Starr 7

Some people do a baker’s dozen. I am not some people and I don’t think I have 13 things to say. So here goes my Starr Seven.

1.Saturday night I had a lovely evening at a house party. It was a benefit for a community organization and well attended by many of the DC black gay movers and shakers. It was a warm open environment and a good time was had by all. I felt like I was part of a community.
2.I learned that one of the men I was flirting with at the house party is a former lover of my good friend, Mr. Kane. He was very nice – but can I pursue?
3.I called my mom to ask for her aunt’s phone number. She asked why I wanted the phone number. I told her because I wanted to thank her for something she sent me. My mom asked what did her aunt send me. I told her several recipes. My mother said – “what are you going to do with those?”
4.I called Langston to wish him a happy birthday on Saturday. He hasn’t responded to acknowledge my call. Two weeks ago I sent him a copy of an article he asked me to send him. He hasn’t acknowledged receipt of that either.
5.Over the weekend I talked to one of my little brothers from the hood. He is a senior in college and spoke to a group of high school seniors on Friday afternoon. When he called me to describe the experience he said, “I felt like I was you. I felt good.” Bless his heart.
6.The Oscar’s were very black. I liked the color.
7.When I laid in my bed on Sunday night I wrapped myself so tight in my Egyptian cotton sheets I felt like I was being hugged by a cloud.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Just a Reminder of the Burden of My Beauty

I reconnected with an old buddy online last night.

Reminder: what's your name, man?
CLAYSTARR: people call me Clay*.....and yours?
Reminder: CLAYSTARR!?
CLAYSTARR: some people may call me that too
CLAYSTARR: what is ur name?
Reminder: soft, high-pitched voice? phat bubble ass?
Reminder: XX
Reminder: from indiana.. i know you from ohio …we both know a dude named blackpulse from cincinnati
CLAYSTARR: *GASP* ............where have you been?!
CLAYSTARR: i havent seen you in ages
Reminder: working.. hard!
Reminder: see.. u let a good one slip through your hands...
Reminder: so much for playing hard to get... :)
CLAYSTARR: u know i loved me some you and then you disappeared
Reminder: i see dc has converted u into a local
CLAYSTARR: good things come to those who wait
CLAYSTARR: a local? in what sense?
Reminder: now, u are technically a transplant
Reminder: and on your way to being a permanent resident
Reminder: dc is a good place for you to begin your career, but u already know that
CLAYSTARR: you think so, i've been here three years and have become deeply rooted in this city...but lately i've been wondering if its time for me to move
Reminder: there are great opportunities here..
CLAYSTARR: when the smoke cleared and the dust settled after i graduated i tried finding u.....none of the numbers i had for u worked and your old email address was shut down
CLAYSTARR: i was so infatuated with u
Reminder: is your voice deeper now? :)
CLAYSTARR: ha! no it isnt
Reminder: we may have to do something about that voice... :)
CLAYSTARR: so is the deeper voice a requirement?
Reminder: nothing is a requirement for friendship.. other than having a good heart... knowing how to keep your business to yourself... being ethical, etc.
Reminder: a deeper voice would be attractive, just like some people prefer 6' plus brothas... but, such is life... we are all unique
Reminder: and u are definitely one of a kind
CLAYSTARR: i have literally thought about u hundreds of times since we last spoke/did u ever think about me? Will you marry me?
Reminder: i would have to turn u into an educated "thug"... and send you to a voice analyst to help deepen your voice... :)
Reminder: but hell.. these are all things we can work with... right? :)
CLAYSTARR: i forgot u didnt like my voice and ways
Reminder: i think that u are to a great extent a product of your environment... and after being in ohio... i can understand.. u have the intelligence and the ethics of a strong man.. but maybe someday i can work with you so that your strength is also reflected in the inflection/pitch of your voice... and your "ways" as you put it
Reminder: u are a brilliant young man.. but u could be sooooo much more dynamic...
Reminder: u feel me?
CLAYSTARR: i think im more comfortable than i have ever been with myself
Reminder: i am soooo glad to hear that
Reminder: but u understand what i am telling u, right?
CLAYSTARR: i accept your opinion
Reminder: i get the impression that dudes have always wanted you to play the soft, submissive role.. but, that is only reflective of one small piece of who you are... and it isn't reflective of the strength of your masculinity and malehood... the claystarr i knew was a very intelligent, cultured, head-strong brotha.. is this still the case?
CLAYSTARR: i am still all of those things and today more so than ever though it may not be in the pitch of my voice it is found in my presence and confidence, all of which i didn't always have
Reminder: ok. so now capitalize on the growth you've made and take it to an even higher level.. so that people will be immediately drawn to your presence and confidence, rather than fixating on voice pitch or mannerisms... u feel me?
CLAYSTARR: I'm not who I was ten years ago. I'm not who I was ten minutes ago. - George C. Wolfe
Reminder: and that is a beautiful thing.. but, i hope that you will not be the same person you are now.... ten minutes or ten years from now. right? life is about personal growth and advancement
CLAYSTARR: i will offer some validation to your argument - i had a discussion about this earlier today - in relation to me thinking of moving out of dc
Reminder: i know that i am not the first person who cares to bring it to you
CLAYSTARR: cares or Dares?
Reminder: this isnt a dare... ive always acknowledged your talent and potential.. i felt that bond with you as a fellow midwesterner
Reminder: we are both brothaz trying to make it
CLAYSTARR: u still in the philanthropy bizness?
Reminder: i have no reason to feed you some garbage ... i say these things because i know they will help u advance in life
Reminder: now, if corporate boardrooms were gay... and everybody wore pink, it would be a different story... but, we must be able to function in "their" world.. feel me?
CLAYSTARR: i hear u
Reminder: ok. think about what i've said... and start experimenting... just play around with your voice.. see what u can do.. explore yourself..

Time and time again I have explored, thought about, analyzed, interpreted, theorized, pontificated, prayed, laid, cried, died and was reborn – all things centered around the burden of my beauty. It is heavy. But I am beautiful. It is heavy. But I am strong. It is heavy. But it is my cross to carry. It is heavy. But I am.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Sound of the Wind

I hear a song. It is the music of Chicago still resonating in my ears. I find myself still grinning and moving my feet just as I was in that moment when the music hit me.

Friday at 4pm exactly I dashed from my office and headed toward Union Station to hop on the train that would take me to the plane that would take me to Chi-town for the weekend. I had on my travel clothes and my infamous black scarf that I wear everywhere and in every way imaginable. I love that scarf and I think it loves me too. After a short time in a long line I made my way to the gate at BWI and in a little under two hours I was coming out of a gate at O'Hare.

Hello Chicago, they call me ClayStarr.

Friday: Pooquie picked me up and we went to grab a bite to eat before heading out for the night. I did a quick wardrobe change and he and I went to the Prop House. I enjoyed the music and some of that Midwest flavor. People seemed friendly. I didn't feel the usual pretentiousness in the air. I knew I wasn't in DC anymore.

Saturday: I spent the afternoon at the theater seeing the first of three plays I would see during the course of the weekend. The cast was good, the direction was great, the script a little longer than need be. Following the show I had an early dinner with Pooquie and his friend the Silver Lady. She is 85 years old and a beautiful woman. As any woman who has lived a good life to become her age, she has lots of wonderful stories. She shared several with us during dinner. The one that touched me most was of her meeting her husband. She was 47 when she met him. He was 53. They were working in the same building and caught each others eye one day. He asked her out, she accepted. On their date she said she looked him in his eyes and could tell he was an honest man. He would be the man she would marry. Six months later they married. Their marriage lasted over twenty five years. He passed away two years ago. I'm sure they will be together again one day.

After dinner it was time to see another show. We saw the new Ntozake Shange play Layla's Dream. The acting was great, the set interesting, the choreography notable, the script was often heavy on analogies. What made up for the sometimes heavy language however was the beauty of it. Shange is still certainly a top notch poet.

Sunday: I lounged all morning and until it was time for me to hit the theater again. The third play was perhaps the most creative in concept. It centered around a black gay man working on his graduate thesis on the slave revolt of Nat Turner. He along with his 189 year old grandfather are transported back in time to the eve of the revolt. Interesting to say the least. The direction was good, the cast well put together.

Following the show Pooquie and I met up with my friend from home and her husband for a delightful dinner. It was a beautiful sight. I have known my friend Mrs. Perfect since the fourth grade. We attended the same schools grades 4-12. Mrs. Perfect, her husband, Pooquie and I all truly enjoyed each others conversation and company.

Later Sunday Pooquie and I ventured out to dance and have a final round before I headed out on Monday. The location isn't one that I would have picked. Just call me particular but I danced, drank and observed my surroundings. I reflected on my time spent over the weekend. And as I stood there the music hit me up.

Step in the Name of Love by R. Kelly came on – a quintessential sound of the city. It was the last song of the night - so Midwest - I so loved it. The lights coming on and the last song being played was a moderately slow to slow tempo. It reminded me of the days when I was sneaking into the clubs underage in Cleveland. The last song without fail was always a slow song. Sunday I stood there and watched 7 sets of black men grab each other by the hand and proceed to hand dance - step. I felt someone tug my hand and there I was becoming couple number 8.

I loved the sight of it. I loved the energy of it. It was something I don't think I've ever witnessed anywhere other than home in Cleveland. Men dancing - really dancing with each other – not jockeying for position, not pumping their fist to pump up their manhood, not strutting, parading or trying to show how hard they can be. They were enjoying the music and the moment free from a fear.

I enjoyed my time with Pooquie, when we get together we have so much fun and learn so much just by being friends. If Chicago were a cake, I could only say that in my short time there I was able to eat a slither. I think I’ll return soon for a whole slice.

Step Step, Side to Side. Round and round dip it now.
Separate, bring it back, let me see you do, the love slide.
See my whole world goes around, all because of you, spin me, yeah!
And when we are done making love, babe, hey! I just want to get to nothing,
go all over town!

Love brought us together so keep on stepin!
Because love goin last forever! Clap in the name of love!
Lets step out, hit the floor, DJ?s rockin its all for us, if anybody asks,
why were? stepin, tell em!!!.....We did it for love

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Blowing through Chicago

I was day and he was night. That was and probably still is the way most people describe my friend Pooquie and I. We are at first glance two very different people. He is loud. I speak quietly. He has a natural roughness. I am rather gentle. Yet underneath that surface that it is easy for the world to see with the naked eye and draw premature conclusions from there, Pooquie and I are very much the same. Two young, black, educated men from somewhat fractured families on an incredible life journey with twists and turns neither of us could have ever imagined. We share many of the same interests, ideas, feelings, fears and many of the same personal narratives with different twists.

Pooquie and I met during undergrad when he and I were in the cast of As You Like It together. He was playing Orlando and I was the fierce Le Beau. It was not a love at first meeting relationship. Our relationship grew through the run of the show and since then has just continued to grow. When he and I graduated we knew it would be hard to part physical ways. He would be moving to Chicago to pursue his MFA and I would be moving to DC to pursue my masters in public communication. Distance, classes, shows, presentations and all that comes with living a full life has not kept us apart. I finished my program in 2002. In May he completed his three year MFA program and decided to stay in Chicago. Although we talk on the phone nearly every day, in the three, almost 4 years now that he has been in Chicago I haven’t gone to visit him. He has come to DC twice and he and I saw each other last summer in LA. So, tomorrow night after work I am boarding a plane and heading to the windy city for my first visit.

I am looking forward to seeing him and spending time with him. Since undergrad all of our in person time together has been limited to just a few hour spurts. Quite the opposite of when we used to literally spend days together. Whenever he and I get together we feed off of each others energy and somehow balance each other so well. It is not very often that I say that I am excited about anything – but I am excited about this trip.

I haven’t been to Chicago in my adult life. I’ve been several times as a kid and once as a teenager. It should be different from an adult perspective. Chicago is a place that I’ve toyed around with the idea of living. Perhaps my time spent there this weekend will offer me a glimpse of what it would be like. I don’t really have an itinerary laid out for this trip besides spending time with Pooquie, seeing a play and having dinner with another friend of mine from high school who now lives in Chicago with her husband. She is a wonderful young woman, he is a very nice young man and their families are both amazing. Breaking bread with them should be fantastic. I hope the entire weekend will be.

Hello Windy City, they call me ClayStarr!

Wednesday, February 16, 2005


I keep recounting my steps yesterday morning between the bedroom of my apartment and the train station I walk to every day to get to work. It seems that somewhere between point A and point B I lost my C-ell phone. I did nothing out of the ordinary. I did nothing unusual in collecting my things for work and walking to the train station. So how and why did the phone disappear?

The last time I had a phone ‘incident’ I can take the blame. I was doing something wrong, for all the wrong reasons and it was stolen. That is a complete beginning and end. There is no room left there to wonder. I learned my lesson – which I should have already known from the beginning. But this time it seems so much different.

I am totally baffled by the loss and subsequent financial burden of the replacement of my cell phone. I followed my normal protocol. As a person who typically follows the philosophy that everything happens for a reason – I am totally confused.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

Love in a life like this

All I ever wanted to do was fall in love with a man and have him fall in love with me. If only matters of the heart could be so simple, if only life could be without complexities. Well, if it were I guess it wouldn’t be called life.

Several weeks ago I met a man who was handsome, intelligent, and emotionally available. I thought I had struck gold finding a man like him in a life like this. After a few days of phone conversations and just one date, I had begun imagining spending the rest of my life with this man. Perhaps more than anyone, I know that when it comes to building a relationship you have to take it one day and one step at a time, but if only in my mind I thought it was okay to imagine forever. Just imagine.

Shortly into our courtship during what had become our daily evening phone conversation amidst talk about how our days went and what was ahead for tomorrow he told me something that would have a profound effect on my imagining our tomorrow together. In one sense I never thought I’d have this conversation with someone, and in another, I knew that as I grew older it was just a matter of time before I inevitably would.

He told me that he wanted to disclose something that he wanted me to consider before our relationship grew into something more and the feelings that I had for him intensified. He told me that he was HIV positive and had been for the past several years. What was I to imagine then.

Was I to continue to imagine life with him as my lover or to imagine him now on the list of people that I call, “those who can only be my friend?” Was I to imagine myself loving him passionately mind and spirit, and his body ever so delicately? Was I to imagine myself afraid, unsure, a hypocrite or a bigot?

It is very clear in my mind that I’d like to meet, fall in love with and build a life with another man of color around my own age. It is also very clear from data yielded from numerous studies that young men who have sex with men of color, particularly blacks and Latinos represent an increasingly large number of new HIV infections and that men of color overall represent a disproportionate number of HIV infections across the board. Therefore, it is likely that one in every few men in the pool in which my heart desires may be HIV positive, known to him or not.

As someone who is HIV negative I have recently, by my recent involvement, been forced to examine my thoughts on this subject. So often our community talks about HIV/AIDS in the sole contexts of prevention, living and dying but hardly ever, love and relationships.

One source offers that love is a feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person with whom one is disposed to make a pair. The initial attraction based on things like personal appearance, geographic location, and for some social status, is what generally draws us to the people we become involved with. It was the first step, or choice, in deciding if that other person was someone we could get to know, and perhaps one day love. But as there is an initial attraction, can the disclosure of someone’s HIV status be an initial detraction, and should we allow it to be? After meeting my friend a few weeks ago that was the question that I posed to myself.

Twenty years after the first known cases of HIV, people are now living longer and healthier lives, but there are still many who fight losing battles with the virus, something to consider, the days you will spend with your lover, and the possible days you will have to spend without. It has been proven that safe sex and use of condoms can prevent new infection, but condoms are not 100% and may break, something to consider, one event may change your whole life. But what must also be considered is the beauty of the days, months, years and perhaps lifetime you may share with someone who truly loves you.

I began to imagine again a few weeks ago. I began to imagine, what if it were true, that there is one person out there in the world for everybody, what if my person was this man that I just met and if I let him go, just because he was positive, my life would never be what it could have been if I had chosen to see if he was the love for me. Perhaps at that moment my imagination got the best of me.

There is no other virus, illness or disease that carries the stigma that HIV/AIDS does. That stigma built of ignorance, fear and many untruths stands in the way of what could probably be numerous love connections. When people see that threshold they see only that and not the person on the other side.

When disclosure is made early on both HIV negative and positive people are given the choice, sometimes easy, and sometimes hard to consider walking down a road that could lead to a place where they can love and be loved. Sometimes, not always, we are given a choice. I will not share the choice that I made with the man I became involved with a few weeks ago. I’d much rather leave that a question to linger in the minds of those who will examine this topic on their own, choosing love in a life like this. Loving, what a powerful choice to make.

All I ever wanted to do was fall in love with a man who was also in love with me. If only love could be so simple, if only love could be without complexities. Well, if it were I guess it wouldn’t be called love.

june 2003

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

One in Eighty

In certain spaces and places I become invisible. It is not a new idea at all. Sometimes people overlook me, or don’t recognize my presence because of my color, my age, my perceived sexuality, a number of reasons. On the flip side there are occasions in which others see me only because of those things. Saturday I was in a room with nearly 80 people and this was one of those occasions in which everyone saw me | but one man. To him I was invisible.

I work for a small nonprofit and several weeks ago I was at an event where I had the opportunity to meet some of our volunteers. A very good looking black man in his late twenties possible early thirties approached a colleague and myself. They had already met and their conversation was familiar. My colleague, a young white woman, turned to me to offer an introduction. He extended his hand, said hello and never looked at me again. For the rest of the night I watched his interaction with other people and paid close attention to his subtle efforts to completely ignore me. Enter a dear friend of mine, Mr. Kane who had come to the event to pick me up so we could head to a poetry event across town.

Mr. Kane tapped me on my shoulder and told me it was time for me to grab my bag so we could make our exit. Mr. Kane noticed where my eyes were wandering, and laughed. According to Mr. Kane the guy I was looking at, the guy who had been ignoring my human presence all night was a guy Mr. Kane had gone to dinner with a month ago with another group of friends. “He’s one of those confused children,” Kane quipped. Ah, there is the rub. This guy was ignoring me because he saw in me something he knew was in himself and he didn’t want to see manifest anywhere else. Gayness. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to be associated with it. He didn’t want to acknowledge it/me.

So on Saturday, when I saw him again it was the same routine. I chuckled to myself. There we were again in a room full of people. Only 79 saw me. Only 79 heard me. And only 1 felt me. He felt my energy that he didn't want to feel so much he couldn’t even look at me.

Sunday, February 06, 2005


Saturday afternoon I got a call from a friend who wanted to know if I was going to the party tonight. I had been invited to a Vietnamese New Year’s party tonight but surely this wasn’t the party my friend on the phone asking about. I asked my friend for the details for the party he was talking about. Apparently a well known guy in the DC black gay community was having a birthday party this evening and conveniently it was being held two or three blocks from where my friend and his partner were having their New Year’s party. It had to be added to my social calendar. Or did it? I switched gears and told my friend I had no intentions on going to a birthday party I wasn’t invited to.

My friend pulled up his evite and actually I had been invited. The email address on the evite was wrong. That made sense. The same guy invited me to his birthday party last year. The difference is that last year I was working at a different organization and that was the only email address I ever gave him. So indeed I was invited to his soiree. Does that mean I was going to go now? I was certainly kind of excited. His parties are for those who want to see and be seen by those on the DC social circuit. I would stand around sipping a cocktail making idle chatter with the same old faces, be stared at by the same old faces who only stare and never speak and at the end of the night feel somewhat drained from witnessing some of my least favorite rituals of this sub-co-culture I identify with. Is that how I wanted to feel on my Saturday night? I didn’t know.

I threw on my wardrobe for the night and headed to the New Year’s party and somewhere along the way I would make the decision to walk those two or three blocks to the next party as the night progressed. When I entered the New Year’s party I held up a bottle of wine to signal my arrival. I took off my coat, mixed myself a drink, fixed a plate and for the next few hours enjoyed myself immensely being submerged in conversations with people about everything from foreign languages to running a marathon. Usually at these parties I feel a little uncomfortable. When J-Dawg and his partner throw a party the guest list is typically comprised of three black people (including me), about five white people and 70 – 80 men and women of Asian descent. For whatever reason though, tonight I was at ease. I could just be me.

A little after 10 pm the party began winding down. I grabbed my coat and started walking. There I was three blocks from the party. I went to Taco Bell and had a taco. There I was one block from theparty. There I was two doors away from the party. I slipped inside an ice cream shop and got a strawberry’ n cream milkshake. With milkshake in hand I walked by the restaurant where the party was being held and didn’t even look through the window. I kept my eyes straight ahead. I wasn’t going.

A few steps later I saw a brother I have seen on the circuit for as long as I’ve been in DC. I was walking in one direction and he was walking in the other. He gave me a ‘where are you going, the party is in the opposite direction’ look. I gave him an ‘I know where I’m going, in the opposite direction' look.

With one hand in my pocket and my other hand holding my milkshake to my mouth I continued strolling and sippin' until I noticed the personalized plates on a parked car to my right. I stopped. The plates read LIBER8D. It was confirmation I had made the right decision. Like Thirty-Red said on New Year’s Eve in the City, “we don’t have to chase a party.” I didn’t have to go anywhere to see and be seen, to show up as a blip on anybody’s radar or be a slave to what can be a mentally and emotionally draining master. I had already had a good time with good company for the evening and now I was going home. I was liberated.

Friday, February 04, 2005

You asked : I answered

The other day I said that if you asked me a question I would answer it. The following questions were submitted. The answers follow.

Rod asked: When was the last time you went on a date? Also, describe your ideal date--and man.

I have not been on a date since early September 2004. My ideal date would be a live theater performance followed by dinner or cocktails, maybe both. We could unwind and discuss what we saw/heard/felt. My ideal man is of African descent. He is my height (5ft9) or taller with an average to defined body. He is a wonderful balance of book and street smarts. He is open about his sexual preference for men. He is someone I can bring around my family and interacts well with them. He is not intimidated by me. He understands that we both have independent lives. He can separate my persona from my person. He is between the ages of 25 and 35. He is strong. He has a sense of humor. He wants to understand me and help me grow. He would die for something or someone.

TheLoveHater asked: 1) How would ClayStarr earn his millions? 2) What's the best gift you've ever gotten? 3) What award, that you have already received is your most coveted?

1)I would earn my hundred thousands from writing and lecturing. I would earn my millions from living well, while living well below my means and investing.

2)The best gift with a price tag on it that I’ve ever received was my transportation to my senior prom – a private jet. The best gift I’ve ever received that’s absolutely priceless is life itself.

3)I can’t pick any one award over the other.

Bernard Bradshaw asked: 1) Boxers or Briefs? 2) Describe your FUNNIEST sexual encounter.

1)Depends on the day. Variety is the spice of life, not to mention different styles of pants require different styles of underwear to be worn with them.

2)I was getting hot and heavy with a guy I met in the big apple. Great time. He had the most beautiful soft brown skin. I melted at the thought of him. I decided to let him melt in my mouth – not my hand. I was performing oral sex on him when I saw a little pink thing. I realized something was different. I tried to hold in my laughter. I kept it to a snicker and removed the pink wad carefully while he lay there wondering what was going on. He said, “What’s up?” I said, “I seemed to have forgotten I was chewing gum when this whole thing started – and I got my Big Red all over your big brown.”

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Dear God!

Dear God,

I am probably one of your biggest fans. You have done so much for me and I am extremely grateful. With that said, I come to you again with another request. Can you save me from you, or at least the people that say that they are doing your work? I fear your wrath but of some of your follower’s politics and actions, I am absolutely petrified. Tomorrow morning a group of them will be gathering to break bread at the National Prayer Breakfast.

George Bush will be there. I hope someone prays over him, maybe even lay hands on him. Don’t get me wrong, I know we are all of your children but George doesn’t know how to play well with others and is causing a lot of problems all over the place. He says that he misbehaves because he wants freedom for the whole world and his acting out is the only way this utopian goal can be achieved. Well, first of all the whole world never said it wanted to be free. Secondly, he keeps doing all of this stuff with the subtle and sometimes not so subtle undertones that he is acting on your behalf. Because I believe in you I cannot believe that he is.

Hours from now the ballroom will be filled with right wingers [who are really wrong] praying for the country’s salvation from cartoons, football halftime shows, and affirmative action. Please place it on their hearts to pray about some other more significant issues like health care, the k-12 education system, for the families of those who have died in Iraq both US citizens and freedom fighters (they may call them insurgents), the disproportionate number of people of color in the US prison system, the rising debt of the youth and young adults who the American dream has become too costly to afford, all those types of things. This country definitely needs prayer – but from people who want to use you to spread love, not ignorance, intolerance, hate and misunderstanding. For those people, I pray for them and a good number claim to be your followers.

Scary situation.

Tomorrow I will pray at breakfast, lunch and dinner. I pray that your proclaimed followers will truly follow your lead.

Yours truly,
Clay Starr