The Starr Report

Nights Like This

2010-11-19T21:14:00.002-05:00

I am a delicate balance. I often wonder was this predestined for me because of my birth sign, the Libra. I am a creature constantly in search of balance in my life. It is an ongoing struggle at times but I knowingly and unconsciously seek for it in every aspect. I believe it is what makes my narrative so interesting. A coalescing of two sometimes far extremes, from my deepest passion for the performing arts, sweeping prose and harmonic poetry to love of hard hits on the football field and aggressive and swift game of basketball games. I wear ascots and drink cocktails while craving greasy chicken dinners and sweet tea from establishments loosely referred to as carry out restaurants. There are no linen napkins or white tablecloths there. But I love it all and my quest to find just enough of both seizes me.

It is the same with me and my relation to people, some of whom I love dearly. My innate desire to pull them close and keep them at arms length all once. Its been an interesting week. I was ready for it to end. I’ve felt happiness, confused, optimistic, lonely and loved all in the past few days. So here tonight I sit alone resting my body, gathering my thoughts and centering myself. And even here I wish for something else.

To be with someone and simultaneously left alone. Perhaps the advanced thought is that I wish for the presence of someone who I knew cared and wanted understand how I feel but would love me and respect me enough to own my feelings and be simple present with me. I have been by choice and default very independent and I don’t know that at this juncture that I want someone who says that they will climb my mountains for me but at least with me.

I want us to do it together.

I want him to say ‘we will make it through this season.’

But he is not here, just me, and I guess the middle, or the balance struck is the usual in this case. I’ll press on with myself. I’ll still count it all joy.

Changing Seasons

2010-10-15T10:39:00.001-04:00

Here I am. It is that season again. The season that brings anxiety, questions, fear and typically transition. It is fall. It is a familiar cycle. A lot of transformative events in my life have happened in the fall. It is so symbolic. Though I shouldn’t be surprised for my life is punctuated by symbolism. Ultimately, I find it fitting.

So this fall I am walking a tight rope and not even sure how long it is or where it will lead exactly but I am on it and trying to move carefully and skillfully without falling. I am dealing with a lot of unknown factors in my career, my livelihood and in reaching up and out for my higher calling.

Lord knows I want to make what my grandmother called “good money” and at the same time I want to feel like I am truly doing something good. I want my next move to be a leap not a step. That is what I really want. I want it and think I’ve been working at it for some time now but don’t know when or where that work is going to payoff. It is my prayer and vision that it will. Sometimes my mind frowns but my heart musters just enough hope to smile.

The fall air is cool. While it is a welcome from what was a hot and humid summer it makes me long for arms to wrap around me at night. So many claim to love me but there isn’t one who wants to be in love with me. How could that be? I believe that question is now as old as my desire and yet still younger than my acceptance of who I am.

A very kind young man that I offered a few encouraging words to while he was going through a transition last fall that lasted through the summer called a few weeks ago to tell me thanks. I wonder if he had any idea that I needed to hear him say that he was doing well because it gave me more faith that I would too.

Seasons.

Stillnes

2010-08-15T22:02:00.001-04:00

It is amazing what can happen when one sits still. This morning I sat in a chair and was drenched in thankfulness and gratitude. I closed my eyes and lifted my hands to God in praise and devotion. Oh, how glorious it felt.

Tonight I am sitting still and am in enveloped in a sadness and confusion, wrapped in the blanket of loneliness, wondering why I must sit alone. I don’t like this feeling and I wonder will there ever be a night when I find myself still and this feeling is long gone and far away.

When I sit still I hear so very clearly, whether I want to or not.

That Feeling That I Get

2010-08-02T01:11:00.002-04:00

I remember what it feels like. It feels so good. It feels like floating on a cloud. It sounds like the popping of a bottle of champagne. It smells like something sweet and delicious coming right out of the oven. It tastes like a fresh strawberry covered in chocolate. It looks like him. Oh, when it happens it appeals to all of my senses. When it happens…but it hasn’t happened in a while.

I think it is safe to say that it hasn’t happened in months. I’ve not been enchanted by or with any man in some time. I long for that feeling though. I long for the feeling and just as much if not more I long for what that feeling makes me do.

It makes me smile from ear to ear. It makes me blush. It makes my heart jump. It makes me laugh and giggle at random moments. It makes me want to ensure my hands are always soft so that at anytime I can rub his, massage his back, caress his face and bring him warmth and energy. Oh, to be enchanted by a man, to fall under his spell.

I wish for a man to cast his spell on me again.

My Familiar

2010-07-26T21:56:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I called a friend that I hadn’t spoken to in months. There was no particular reason that we hadn’t spoken. There had been no discord. We just had not picked up the phone to dial each other. Yesterday, I was so happy that I did. It was like sweet music hearing his voice. Our laughter was like a blanket I could wrap myself in. I was reminded how I loved him. How we have loved each other through all sorts of times and shared all sorts of memories and growing pains. It was slipping gently into the comfort of the familiar.

In this, my thirtieth year, I believe I have become more familiar with myself. It is both a grand and scary thing. I embrace it. I embrace what the past ten months have shown me, taught me, reinforced in me and even challenged me to say and do. And to think, there are still 2 months left before my next birthday.

I started to grow afraid of turning 30. In the weeks leading up to it I was so reflective. I thought about all the things that I knew I’d done right but probably spent more time on the things that I thought I may have done wrong. I knew 30 was a milestone. It just wasn’t the dawn of another decade it was the door opening on true adulthood. I could no longer toss around a twenty anything. I didn’t know what was going to be on the other side.

But glory. I now tell people that it was perhaps the best thing to ever happen to me. I believe I see things much clearer on this side, even the things I don’t want to see. I see them with much more clarity. That includes the things in me I need to work on or just let go.

My father called me for the first time in 30 years, I became the Godfather to a beautiful baby girl, I removed myself from the life of someone who I once counted as one of my closest friends, I’ve said yes and no and I continue to become more familiar with myself. I also now find more appreciation than I ever did before in the love of those who are most familiar and in the back of my mind fear that I will not find a man to familiarize myself in 30 more years.

But glory.

Here we go again

2009-04-27T22:40:00.000-04:00

Ten years ago I was living in a city I no longer wanted to live in, attending a school I no longer wanted to attend, experiencing an internal struggle that manifest itself in very external ways, shaping my the foundation of my identity and manhood. Ten years ago I took several leaps of faith and through those leaps I have landed where I am today.

Ten years later I am continuing to explore myself, the world, where I am in it and where I want to be in and just what exactly I can do to make this world the one I want it and know that it can be.

Ten years is a mighty long time. Ten years is also just a blip on the line of eternity.

And here I am today, on that line, looking at the years that have past. Looking to the years ahead and wondering how I will view this moment.

In some ways I feel just as I did ten years ago. I feel like something has to give and that something may even be me. I feel like I am wading in the middle of an ocean with the ability to swim toward land but not quite knowing what direction to swim in. I feel like there is something great in store, but I just don’t know what it is. That is how I felt ten years ago. It is how I feel right now. I am unsure and at the same time very certain.

I was led to and took several leaps of faith then and I continue to pray that I’ll be led to and make the right leaps again. Even remembering that while leaping I stumbled and found myself bruised then, I understand that too was part of the process. The perfectly imperfect beautiful process that led me here to this moment in my life.

I swam in that ocean. I made it to land. I stood on my own two feet and when I couldn’t God lifted me, and I walked tall.

Here we go again.

Thats the Way the Cookie Crumbles

2009-03-15T22:48:00.001-04:00

Over the course of the last week my communication with Chocolate Chip Cookie has completely broken down. The catalyst for this was a call that Chocolate Chip Cookie got from his ex-boyfriend. It was the call to come home.

It seems as though the plans of the ex who had not long ago moved out weren’t quite working out and so he wanted to move back in. Chocolate Chip Cookie said that the ex was still on the mortgage and that he felt like he had to let him move back to the house – that coupled with the fact the Chocolate Chip Cookie missed the dog they once shared.

And that is how the cookie crumbled. The ex moved back in last Saturday and every day since the calls and texts have dwindled. I’m not shocked by this. When he told me the ex called I knew that he would answer. That’s how these things typically go. The only thing that does slightly disturb me however is that in our last few sparse exchanges Chocolate Chip Cookie has felt the need to apologize for the communication being sparse or short.

He, like I am, is a grown man and that means too old to be apologizing for how we feel and what we do. He did whatever the heck he does with his ex and his friends that he had before he met me this weekend and didn’t reach out. I don’t want him to apologize for that as he did. I had a great and relaxing weekend with myself and I’m not apologizing for that. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

Afternoon Delight

2009-03-06T00:41:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week Chocolate Chip Cookie and I had a chance to spend some time together. We caught a movie and went to dinner after. I enjoyed our time together. It was just what I had wanted and my sweet tooth was satisfied.

Today was a rather long day at work, mostly because of a late afternoon meeting with someone who I couldn’t determine if he was dumb, lazy or both. Not the ideal note to end the day on – confused about the confused. Nevertheless, when the meeting was over I walked out in the hall and looked at my cell phone at just the right time to see it light up with an incoming call. It was Chocolate Chip Cookie and it was perfect timing.

I had decided toward the end of the meeting that my reward for the long day was going to blow my diet and buy a big sugar cookie from the shop across the street from my office building but with the call from Chocolate Chip Cookie I realized there wasn’t a need. I was okay with the unexpected call as my treat. I didn’t a sugar cookie I had a Chocolate Chip Cookie instead.

Table for One

2009-03-01T17:38:00.001-05:00

I told myself that I wouldn’t allow this to happen. In fact I had been doing pretty good avoiding it for the past few weeks. Nevertheless it has happened. I am feeling kind of blue as I sit here eating a frozen pizza. I believe this is dinner and that is why I am disappointed.

The first Sunday in January and the first Sunday in February I shared a meal and most pleasant company with Chocolate Chip Cookie. Unfortunately, the first Sunday in February was the last time I saw him too. I’ve made a couple of attempts to see him and they both came at times when he couldn’t accept the invitation. To his credit he did invite me to dinner and movie but when worked called he had to answer and our plans were postponed indefinitely it seems.

I am totally interested in getting to know him but text messages and phone calls are no longer satisfying my curiosity nor hunger for face to face time. I know he got out of a relationship not long ago and wants to build friendships before anything. I know that in my head and there it makes perfect sense. I told myself not to create expectations and take it one day at a time. But I’ve reached a fork in the road where my mind and my heart don’t agree. So which road am I going to choose?

Part of me wants to go along to get along and see where this slow and steady exploration of friendship and learning each other leads. Yet, the other part of me, the most often seen and heard part of me, the me that I and everyone else knows – that part of me wants to get throw some engines on this thing and move it faster right along.

I fear both roads though. I don’t want to move so slow that the desire and opportunity are lost nor do I want to move so fast that I find that I’ve pushed him away. I need to choose a direction soon though and keep going. But right now I guess I’ll just enjoy my pizza alone.

I want to know...

2009-02-22T02:36:00.000-05:00

I want to know his scent.

I want to know what his kisses taste like.

I want to know how it feels to fall asleep holding him or while he holds me.

I want to know he looks like when he first wakes up in the morning.

I want to know what it sounds like to hear him say the words I love you.

I want to know what it is like to truly know him.

I want to know when this man, wherever he may be, will reveal himself to me.

Seriously?

2009-02-13T23:37:00.001-05:00

Yesterday morning on my way to work I was approached by an older man. He was probably in his mid to late fifties. He greeted me and I replied. He continued walking several steps ahead of me and then stopped just a few feet from the entrance to my office building. As I got closer to him and the door he asked me what I was doing later on in the evening. I told him ‘nothing.’ He responded, “You want some of this?” while holding up his cell phone so that I could see the screen. It was a picture of his erect penis. ..Seriously.

After a week of eating soup, vegetables and fruits I was excited about getting in the gym this afternoon. I’d gone Monday and Tuesday as well. I figured this would be a great way to cap off the week of good eating and exercise. I ran 5 miles on the treadmill. I did some work on my arms and stomach. Nothing was going to satisfy me more after my workout than some nice quiet time in the sauna and a good shower. I sat in the sauna alone with my eyes closed for several minutes before a young guy came in. He wasn’t bad on the eye either. Anyway, he sat across from me and unwrapped from a towel an ipod and earphones. I figured he would use them. He did. Only thing was that his music was so loud that I could still hear it even though he was wearing headphones. It was the oddest mix of songs too. All slow love songs. I wasn’t sure if he was trying seduce me or sedate me. ..Seriously.

I called Chocolate Chip Cookie tonight to see how he was doing. He had been sick earlier this week and I just wanted to say hello and check in. I enjoy communicating with him via text, instant messenger and in person I think our interactions are really great but on the phone it always seems a bit odd. For the past few weeks I’d been trying to place his voice and speaking pattern. When we were on the phone tonight it came to me. He sounds like and his phone demeanor reminds me a lot of The Professional. That freaks me out slightly but not as much as the fact that I think I am a bit more interested in seeing where things go than he is. I’m starting to think my Chocolate Chip Cookie idea is half baked. ..Seriously.

The long weekend is officially here for all of us that work for the government. Wonderful. I decided that I’d step out to the local watering hole to see and be seen. Well, that wasn’t as fun as I’d hoped it would be. I have chosen February as the month that I won’t drink alcohol or wine this year. I realized how much I needed alcohol to not be in that environment but to tolerate that environment. It was a slow and not so cute night at the not-so-okay corral. ..Seriously.

Yet overall, it was a pretty good Friday. Seriously.

Not Another Day at the Office

2009-02-05T18:43:00.000-05:00

For the last 13 months I have held the same job, walked in the same building, sat at the same cubicle in the same office suite. In those 13 months some things in the suite as well as some of the people in the suite have changed yet one thing and one person has always been consistent. There is a coworker who has chosen for the past 13 months not to engage me in conversation, not even simple greetings, and at times not even make eye contact with me if it could be avoided.

When I first started working in The Kingdom I put my best foot forward to fit in with the office and create positive working relationships. He showed no direct interest and to my understanding expressed to others that he had none. I respected that.

I have lived every aspect of my life as an out gay man since college and I in this journey I have come to understand that not everyone is okay with that and that, is most certainly okay with me. I have also grown not only to understand but appreciate those who may have an issue with homosexuality and homosexuals and not allow it to become reason nor ammunition to disrespect me – which is still different from respect.

Nevertheless, I had resigned that this colleague and I have not spoken any words to each other since my first month on the job. He does his job and I do my job. But a funny thing happened on the way to the train this evening after work.

I packed my bag, put on my coat and scarf and headed out the suite door. I went down the hall and the one who has had no words came from the opposite end of the hallway and in passing he said “Have a good evening.” Without missing a beat I told him to do the same. As I got closer to the elevators I heard him call my name. I turned around and he walked over to me.

He apologized. I listened.

He explained that I had never done anything to him and that he didn’t have any real reason to ever not speak to me and that it was in his own words, stupid for him to have been acting how he had. He said that he noticed my interactions with others in the suite and felt that he had been missing out on having a friendly work relationship with a good guy because he was being ignorant.

I told him that I am glad that we could start all over again.

Taking a Chance on Chocolate

2009-02-01T22:57:00.005-05:00

I went to dinner with Chocolate Chip tonight and at some point I wanted to remove the table that was separating us from each other and hug him and cry. I think I like his soul. I felt a true connection with him.

He is beautiful. This evening at dinner I realized that for the first time in my adult life that I have met a man and chosen to also let him meet me from the beginning. I am revealing to him the real me, the authentic and wonderful me, not a public persona but my true personage. It is both exciting and scary for me. It is a risk.

A little wiser, with a better understanding of life, I know that without taking this risk with Chocolate Chip I wouldn’t ever know if our new relationship can become a solid friendship, anything more or anything less.

Tonight Chocolate Chip mentioned that he wanted to do something adventurous. He said he wanted to go on a journey and see where it takes him. Actually, I see this relationship with Chocolate Chip as the very thing he said he wanted for himself for me, an adventure.

Metamorphosis

2009-01-24T09:44:00.001-05:00

Nearly three years ago I checked into this hotel room. It was summertime. I was going through something. I thought it was the most awful thing. My heart was broken. I had never felt that way in my entire young life. I was in a state of pain, confusion and sadness. My esteem was low. I didn’t know how, when or if I would recover.

I came here this weekend just because I felt I needed to get away from home for a while. I wanted to be in a different physical space. I wanted to sleep in a different bed. I was also hoping for some better sleep. Sleep doesn’t always come so easy to me.

While sitting here a few moments and flood of gratefulness fell upon me. I won’t say that I’m completely healed from 2006 but I can say with certainty that I am much better today than I was then when I checked in to this hotel. I am blessed by God to know that I am not yet the best I can be but that I am better than what and who I was 3 years ago, 3 months ago and probably even 3 days ago. I continue to reach new levels of understanding about myself and the world in which I live in and co-create.

And I do not pray for my metamorphosis to end, instead I pray for it to be completed.

Change

2009-01-20T03:25:00.000-05:00

Change.

I went to the Smithsonian today to view Road to Freedom: Photographs of the Civil Rights Movement, 1956-1968. The images spoke louder than any words I’d ever heard, seen or wrote. The words captured love and hate in a bottle and closed me up in it. Those feelings were all around me. All I could breathe in or out. Love and hate.

As I turned the corner I was met by the smile and greeting of a Black woman who had lived through 1956 – 1968 in a world I can but had to imagine. She wore a blue hat with the letters U S A across the front. Still proud of her nation despite the atrocities that it had inflicted upon its children that looked just like her. This woman who had seen American presidents shy away from Black faces would in hours see the first African American to become President of the United States.

Change.

In February 2008 my grandmother cast an absentee ballot in the presidential primary race in Ohio. She for the first, and what would be her last time, cast a vote for a woman to lead the Democratic campaign ticket and with good fortune serve as the President of the United States. When my grandmother was a little girl the notion that a woman could president of this land was foreign. My grandmother died before the March primary in Ohio. She didn’t live to see her candidate win the state.

Change.

In November 2008 my grandfather proudly cast his ballot in the general election for President of the United States for a Black man. My grandfather was born in 1921 in a small town in Alabama. He served in the United States military. He fought in a war. He faced discrimination. He never imagined in his lifetime that one day he would have the opportunity to cast a vote for Black man as President of the United States as the nominee from a major political party. On a Wednesday morning in November 2008 my grandfather woke up to news reports that the candidate that he voted for won. The headline of the local newspaper exclaimed that a Black man was elected president.

My grandfather died in December. While he lived to see the election he wouldn’t have the opportunity on Earth to see his supported candidate stand on the steps of the United States Capitol and be sworn into office.

Change.

I am filled with gratitude and unlimited hope for the things that I will still yet see in my lifetime.

God's Greater Gift

2008-12-28T01:30:00.005-05:00

When my mother was pregnant with me she thought she was going to have a little girl. When the doctor told her that the brand new bouncing baby boy had been delivered her idea of naming me after her mother went out the window. Moments later, as I am told, she decided that if she couldn’t name me after her mother that she would do the next best thing and name me after her father.

Old and traditional, I seldom meet other men with the same name, particularly men my age or younger. It is a name that I have come to cherish along the way and value as much as I have come to love the man I was named after.

Today my family lost him. The original ClayStarr. Today I lost him. The only man I’ve ever called grampa. Forever I will carry his name and forever I will carry beautiful memories of him.

I was very happy two days ago when my mother convinced him to come have Christmas dinner with us. Holidays had never been his thing and in old age, he at times forgot that they came and went. In fact I asked him if he was ready for his birthday on the 29th and he told me he didn’t even realize his birthday was coming up in just a few days. I still smiled and just enjoyed knowing he was with all of us on that day.

I thank God I did. I didn’t know that would be the last time I’d see him alive.

God has a plan bigger and greater than anything we could imagine for ourselves. For weeks I had been saying that I wanted a book for Christmas. I told everyone that if I got that book for Christmas I wouldn’t care about anything else. In my little human mind, I thought that would be the ultimate Christmas gift this year. The ultimate Christmas gift however was my whole family getting to spend one last Christmas, one last meal, one last laugh, one last smile, one last hug, with my grampa. It was an invaluable gift for which I will always be grateful to God.

No Place on Earth I Would Rather Be

2008-12-24T13:21:00.001-05:00

There is no place on Earth that I would rather be than where I am sitting right now.

I am home. I am home with my mother, brother and sister. I am home in a place where when I walked in my entire body shifted. In these walls there is a extraordinary power, a love, a healing, a security, a haven that I can experience nowhere else on Earth. And I am grateful.

For weeks now I have been moving toward a crossroad in my life. This entire year has been one that I will never forget. How can I forget the incredible loss of my grandmother? How can I forget that sound of my own scream when I thrown to the ground by an attacker? How can I ever forget the feeling of helplessness when I called my mother while she sat in a hospital? How can I forget the bruise my brother left when he hit me with his words? How can I forget the heartwarming hug from my cousin that felt like he was embracing my body with his arms and my heart with his mind? How can I forget the moment I leaped to my feet when a Black man leaped higher than I thought anyone could jump? How can I forget the sparkle of the most beautiful city I have ever seen from atop the Eiffel Tower?

I will not forget. I know that I won’t because these are events, moments and feelings that changed me and my life – the world. And another change is coming. I know that change is coming because I now am experiencing a feeling that I have felt before. It feels kind of good and at the same time very scary. I don’t know what the freedom is going to look like but I know I am soon going to break loose. Be set free. Set myself free. Burst. Unleash.

So I am glad right now that I can be home.

I’ve wanted to be here for a few weeks. I had been really anticipating the holiday for this reason. It is a gift to be here. In the belly of a whale of peace that will give me strength.
Home is also the place I came nearly a decade ago. I just thought about it the other night. Next year will mark the 10 year anniversary of what has so far been the most transformational time of my life journey.

I will never forget that is when I stood up for myself. I will never forget that is when I took the big leap. I will never forget that is when I failed. I will never forget that is when I actually succeeded. I will never forget those tears. I will never forget wanting to take my own life. I will never forget learning to live all over again. I will never forget telling the world who I was. I will never forget that Christmas. I will never forget that I was able to and did come home. It was a year of great frustration and sadness. It was also simply great.

I am home now, reflecting on that time of my life and truly my life right now. On the eve of change and ten years after the biggest changes of my life I am home. I can’t imagine anywhere else I would rather be.

Just Like in Movies

2008-12-10T22:36:00.001-05:00

Plenty of my friends over the years have told me that they thought my life would make for a good reality television show. One in fact had looked into getting a videographer to walk around taping me for a week. I admit there are times when even I think only a lens could purely portray events that shape me. I’d only thought about it in the context of television though – until a few days ago.

I got a call from one of my dear friends. He wanted to share some exciting news with me. He had just bought his girlfriend an engagement ring and soon, very soon he would be popping the question. She has been anticipating that he is going to ask for a while now. They have been having preliminary conversations about it for several months. No doubt she will say yes, they will marry and ride off happily into the sunset. Just like in movies.

And just like in most movies these days, the romantic comedies at least, there is always that cheering and encouraging friend who helps shuttle either the bride or groom along. Often that friend is either a straight talking black woman or a stylish and witty gay man. Put those two character types together and you have me. Just like in movies. And also just like in movies while the couple rides into the sunset the supporting friend is left holding the bouquet or in the male characters case a cocktail still alone.

I felt like that character from the movies the other day. Happy for my friend who is taking another step in his relationship and building the life he has imagined. I also felt a little disappointed because I know what that means for our friendship. The ties that bind us will certainly grow just a bit looser.

Ironically it was bad relationships that brought he and I close and molded our friendship. We were there for each other while we both traveled in darkness. We held each others hands. He was sorting out the breakup of a seven year relationship and trying to find his way. I was fighting to hold on to a relationship that only wanted to hold me hostage or let me go and fall with tremendous harm to the ground.

When he could not sleep he called me. When I could not cry I would call him. We saw each other wounded and we saw each other begin to heal. Finding our way out of darkness and into the light. We were so close.

Then he met another girl that he fancied. She liked him to. I watched their relationship bud and now I am preparing to watch it blossom with the engagement. I cheered for him and for her all the way. Naturally over time as they became closer he and I grew and I imagine will grow further apart. But that is simply the nature of these things and I am happy for both of them. Truly.

Boy meets girl. Girl falls in love with boy. Boy is happy for boy and prays one day he will be as lucky as the girl is.

Just like in movies.

Bonsoir Paris!

2008-11-19T21:12:00.002-05:00

Last night covered in the blanket of chill known as November and one of my favorite black scarves I stepped off a lift and into one of the most stunning sites natural eyes can capture. I stood on the second level of the Eiffel Tower and looked out at the City of Lights knowing fully in that moment how she was named. As aesthetically fantastic as a woman as she is by day, she is simply striking at night. I stood in awe. Far as the eye could see it, it was beautiful.

I didn’t know when I got on the plane a few days ago what it would mean for me to go to Paris, France. I only knew that for years it had been a place that I’d seen on television, in books and films and said I wanted to visit some day. Other than that and the opportunity to help a friend celebrate her 30th birthday I had not put much thought in what it meant for me to make the trek.

Now that I am home, in the comfort of my own home, in my room with the candle burning I have a better understanding of what it meant to me and for me.

After I arrived back home this evening I began plowing through my emails and found a reply from my mother to the email I sent her as soon as I found a computer in Paris to let her know that I’d arrived safely. In her note back to me she said that she was glad that I’d made it safely, to be careful and have a good time. She also shared, that years ago when she was in high school that she had studied French and always dreamed of going to Paris some day. I have the most wonderful mother. And at 54 she has never left the US and traveled the world, yet I know she would do anything in the world for me. Thinking of her email makes me want to cry and fulfill her dream.

Sunday night I ventured to the popular party for gay men of color. I admit I’d gone in hopes of seeing gorgeous black Frenchmen and what I saw was something more intriguing. Fellowship. The men of color party wasn’t dominated by black Frenchmen but was probably split equally between them and Arab men. For every 15 or 20 minutes of the typical American hip hop and dance music there was equal time allotted for more popular songs from Arab nations and the music for the most part was enjoyed by all. During one song I stood as a cultural observer, so enchanted, curious and pleased at what I saw in front of me. There was a long line of Arab men on the dance floor and another opposite of them – but still facing them. One line would dance and walk close to the other so that each dancer would be almost eye to eye with their counterpart in the other line and before they would get too close they would march backward to the beat. To see their movements, smiles and exaggerations was delight – because you could tell they were delighted. And also free. I have been to parties with gay black men, gay Latino men and Asian Pacific Islanders but never one heavily attended by Arab men. While we are all gay, there are nuances to our interactions, socialization, beliefs and even the way we party that draw on our ethnic heritage and traditions. I was happy to be a student.

I looked at Aziza once during the trip and couldn’t imagine anyone else sitting across from me. It was my first trip to Paris and I don’t think anyone else would have been as an appropriate companion than her. She and I talk about love, romance and living our truths in a way and with a frequency that I don’t think I do with anyone else. We have helped each other lick the wounds of loves hard lashes after being beaten and bathed each other with exciting words that make us tingle and giggle when romance has showered her rain upon us. Romance is usually on our tongues and Paris is the language.

It meant a lot for me to go to Paris. Now that I’m home it even means I must decide where I want to go next.

Cocoa, Candy & Contemplation

2008-11-01T02:34:00.000-04:00

Most people use Halloween as an opportunity to put on their mask and present to the world whatever most ghoulish or delightful thing that their imagination can muster. It is a time for many to be seen temporarily as who they want to be in the moment, not necessarily who they are.

This year I chose to use Halloween as an opportunity to do just the opposite. I was invited by Cocoa Conservative to his Halloween party. I accepted not because I didn’t have anything else I could be doing on a Friday night but because I knew a social event at his house would be attended by those people who he really considers friends. For many years I have often thought that to be one of the best ways to unmask someone and see who they truly are – get a good look at their friends.

So tonight, I sat out with a mission and it was accomplished. As bare as I have ever seen him, there he was tonight. Mixing and mingling with party guests. I was most intrigued and ironically most engaged with the people there who seem to have known him the longest, the people from his hometown. They were good people and our interaction was upbeat and flowing. The same can be said about his two colleagues from work.

But on the other side of the room; there seemed to be the other side of him. A side I wasn’t really interested nor engaged with. Oddly, it was the group of Black gay men. I knew a few of the faces, only one name and not even he and I know each other so much on a more than cordial basis. There was no shade but there was no love.

Funny thing is that last night when I contemplated my friendship with Cocoa Conservative it was his straight side that I wondered if I’d mesh well with. I actually find that more comfortable and even more desirable.

The goal of my attendance of his party was to unmask him. I suppose I got two for one. In the end it seemed on several levels it also helped reveal more about me, who I am and how I see myself and others in the world.

Ultimately what I think saw though in one very concise thought is that he is just as human as I am and I am just as human as he is. Silly as it sounds, until I saw him without that mask on tonight, I don’t think I’d realized that before. That means a lot to me. As we do with Halloween candy, I’ll have to do with this, sit back and suck and chew on it for a while.

Wig Out!

2008-10-19T23:24:00.000-04:00

It was the same feeling I experience after eating a new dish and immediately knowing that I like it yet not being able to immediately identify all of the ingredients that make it so tasty to me. The sounds, sights and feel of the Vineyard Theater production of Wig Out! written by Tarell Alvin McCraney were delicious and after savoring it in my mind I realized what that secret ingredient was that made it so good.

The cast, lighting, costumes, wigs and makeup and skilled direction are all notable but the ingredient that makes it so good is the script by McCraney that taps into the desire of all men and women to simply belong. It is a desire that transcends and enters into the psyche of people no matter who or where they are. It is the desire that is often the basis for love and hate, clarity and confusion. Everyone wants to belong – to something, some group, or sometimes just somebody. It is a difficult journey to navigate – finding at first, and maybe even all at once – who you are, where do you fit in the world, how do you fit in it and how to maintain that mental and physical positioning. The play explores each of these questions through its characters and even tinkers with the question of what does one do when the place they thought they fit, they don’t anymore. Where do you go then, a new world or just a new place in the old one?

While the playwright explores the idea of belonging in a world, a family and in ones own skin that are universal issues, he chooses to do so in this work in a world, family and in the skin people from an often underrepresented, marginalized, financially poor black gay co-culture that the mass of audiences of the show are unfamiliar. That is an additional unmistakable beauty of the production as a means to educate through art sense. It shines the light, if only briefly, on the humanness of us all regardless of race, sexual orientation, gender identity and expression and class. Wig Out! is a much welcomed and delicious body of work.

Around the World in a Day

2008-10-08T22:47:00.002-04:00

There was a single moment of being present yesterday and I think that is where all of this begins. Or probably better for me to say, that is where all of this, the events, thoughts and feelings of the past little more than 24 hours becomes so vibrant with color that my eyes that see internally and externally I haven’t stopped moving and bouncing. For they have seen so much, so hurriedly.

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting on the eleventh floor of a building and found myself staring out the window at the dome of the Capitol Building. It was a beautiful afternoon and few clouds in the sky and it was a picturesque image – fit for any post card. As I sat there my eyes transfixed on the view of the Capitol Building the symbol and actual dwelling place of so much power of the country and influence on the entire world I heard stories from others in the room about the barriers faced by people with disabilities in their quest to find sustainable employment. Ignorance. Stigma. Inequity.

I have spent most of my civic life advocating broadly for people of color, the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community and college access for young people. It was the first time I’d really sat in a room when the disenfranchisement of people with disabilities had been the sole topic of discussion. At times I was dumbfounded. At times I was frustrated. At times I too was angry. The entire time I heard a whisper saying to me, “yes, this is for all of us.” For the root of what those advocates said were the barriers to people with disabilities gaining full equality and independence to in their communities – which is the same as everyone else’s neighborhood community – are the same things at the root of the disenfranchisement of every other group that is oppressed. The same as every other group that I have advocated with and for. Sadly, I know that it is some of the people that I have advocated with and for ‘our’ cause have contributed to the people with disabilities community issues and probably without ever even realizing it. We all have.

Staring at the cradle of law and power I wondered how and why it is sometimes not distributed equally and why in 2008 ignorance still lives in her prime while anti-oppression and global awareness and understanding that we are all one still lives in her infancy. Lord, I wish I knew.

There are a lot of things that I wish I knew, like why my day today was packed with moments that combine to make it a day I doubt I’ll forget.

This morning I woke up extra early so that I might arrive at an important 8:30am meeting in the middle of downtown before the rest of the participants would. Indeed, I did and it was productive meeting. It was held in at boardroom table in a pristine boardroom in a sharply remodeled office building with respected business men and women. I walked out at the end a colleague who seldom gives compliments paid me one. I smiled and dashed away.

When I returned to my desk there was a woman waiting to see me. She has been homeless for nearly three years, living on the streets and living with a mental health issue that requires some medication. She said that it was getting colder outside and she need housing before winter. She couldn’t live through another winter outdoors. Drop everything. Try to help. Call who I think I should call. Ask her and the people on the other end the questions I think I should ask. I asked one question. The answer left me stunned for a second. Only a second. I couldn’t visually react and just sitting there would get nothing accomplished.

All the rooms are full. Shelters are full. I learn that the agency that handles a particular type of housing voucher has just gotten to the applicants who submitted their forms and requests in 2002. This woman at my desk didn’t become homeless until 2006. We didn’t come to a final resolution today on her case but we did move closer to it. She left.

In minutes I threw on my suit jacket and dashed to a building so close to the White House many an elementary school student could jog to it from there and not be too winded. In this room I sat absorbing information from slides and speakers that reveal no matter how far we think our society has come, the truth is that children are being bullied, harassed and assaulted in schools for being or being perceived as gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender. The children. We must teach them now. I go back to work.

I toil through the rest of the work day and when I leave I call my mother. We speak. The economy is fracturing and I feel deeply. More than I right now, my mother truly feels it. I pray.

Before getting home I stop at the local grocery. As I walk home tired and pensive I look across the street and I see that rhythm. The rhythm in his walk distinguishes him from others. Then I see his backpack. That turns my smile into a frown and I turn my head, hoping that he hadn’t seen me. I knew what that walk down this street with that bag meant. But he did see me. I heard him call my name. He crossed to my side of the street.

He stood in front of me and smiled, Beauty. I hadn’t seen Beauty in literally a year. While I think about him on occasion, I don’t like to see him because if I don’t see him that means that he is staying out of trouble. If I do see him that means he is up to something he has no business being involved in and surely it makes me not want to be involved with him. But he smiles at me. He makes his long story short. It makes me sad. I met him in the fall several years ago. It is only in the fall that I see him. I wonder why that is. I will pray again that he gets better.

Finally I sit on my sofa, so much to think about from the day that I can’t think and I can only write. Until my phone rings.

It is Jimmy Jam and I’m surprised. Following our last exchange a week ago I certainly hadn’t expected to hear from him. The conversation started off smoothly. As it grew longer so did the distance that now temporarily divides the relationship that I have with my brother. I told him that we he said to me and about me hurt my feelings. He was unapologetic. He stood by what he said.

And I sit here on my sofa wondering about a lot of things. Praying that all things will work for the good of the Lord.

Thank God for Thunderstorms

2008-09-30T20:55:00.001-04:00

That it is why God is so amazing.

Today I was walking through a valley and I wanted to cry and emote but the tears would not come. I could just feel them moving around inside of me.

I left work and went to the gym and a little less than two hours later I walked out and it had begun to drizzle. I got on the train and traveled through several underground stations. When the train left the final tunnel and we emerged in the night it was a full storm outside. Thunder and lightning. Wind and rain.

I couldn’t control my laughter. I smiled at the sky and at the God inside of me. I knew it was a blessing. For a few minutes I stood at the station waiting for the rain to calm a little. It toned down just a tad. And so I began walking home in the thunderstorm. I was getting soaked and it was wonderful.

As I walked I thanked God out loud for this storm. Once again, what I couldn’t do for myself – God did for me. The wonderful part about all the rain in the storms is that it cleanses the Earth and moves old things and debris away. The thunder and lightning are magnificent displays of power and beauty, force. The thunder roars, I am here. The lightning signals, I am the light.

I couldn’t cry today so God cried for me. He released the rain, the wind, the thunder and the lightning for me. The emotions I was feeling on the inside. He brought them out.

After the rain, the clouds go away. There are rainbows and sunshine. There is fresh air. There is a cleansed Earth and bodies. We are renewed.

All the way home, I praised God and prayed to God. Right now I feel like I’m going through a little storm but – this I know is true. When the storm is over, when the rain ceases, when the clouds roll away, when the lightning stops flashing – I and this Earth will be anew.

The Awakening

2008-09-30T16:49:00.000-04:00

What surprises me is that I don’t remember the exact date or what I was wearing. I usually remember details like that about important events in my life. However, of that day, that moment, that experience in my life I mostly just remember how I felt. At first I was just so very tired, and my body was just so very heavy. With each step that I took, it was like I was carrying a thousand pounds of pain on my shoulders. When I reached the bedroom there was a shift and I was light as a feather. The weight of me, under me and over me disappeared and I fell to the bed effortlessly. Still. I lay still. I lay still, body motionless.

Then there was a tear. A single tear that unleashed and lest loose everything within the gates of my soul and spirit. A sound. A gasp for air. A sound and gasp for air that released what must have been all my years of pain. Nothing could stop the flood of tears. Nothing could quiet the sounds.

To my bedside came my mother. She lifted my limp body up into her arms and held me so close she could feel my heart beating as if I were once again a baby in her bosom. She rocked me back and forth, she rubbed my back. I could do nothing more but cry and moan. When I finally stopped crying she laid my body down on the bed and I went to sleep.

I have yet to wake. And there are times like today that I pray that there were arms that I could rest in like I did that day. So that I may cry and moan, so that I may be rocked to sleep. For in that, there would also be an awakening.

Thank You

2008-09-26T02:19:00.000-04:00

The past few days, people have given me gifts. They have all come as a surprise and I am truly grateful for them. What a lot of people don’t know about me is that not only am I genuinely surprised when people give me gifts – but often times I am embarrassed by them and question how worthy I am of them. I have a tendency to think I should give more of myself.

Last night after being surprised with another early birthday gift I was completely overwhelmed, not only by the fact that someone had given me a gift, but because they were so thoughtful in choosing it. It was actually something I’d been thinking about buying for myself and hadn’t gotten around to it yet. It wasn’t on my priority list but I thought that it would simply be nice. And there, my friend and his boyfriend had bought it for me.

I didn’t know what to say other than thank you and I didn’t know what to do other than hug them. As I walked to the train heading home I was very quiet. When I got to the train station I asked God how on Earth could I say thank you. Thank you to the friends who just gave me gifts this week. Thank you to all the people who over the past year and simply in this lifetime had given me gifts, big or small, tangible or intangible. I just didn’t know how to say thank you – for everything. I didn’t know what I could give them in return.

It was in that same silence as I sat on the concrete bench that God spoke to me. He said so gently, “give back.” And so it is. That is how I say thank you. I continue to give hugs, kisses, encouraging words, helping hands, a shoulder to lean on, a chest to lay your head, an ear to listen, a voice to speak my truth so that others may connect, learn and be set free. That is how I say thank you.

Going to Be

2008-09-06T00:20:00.002-04:00

For the last several days I have contemplated the intriguing evaluation language made famous by the Obama family, challenging us to look at the world as it is and then as it should be. I am three weeks, 21 days away from my next birthday. I am counting down the days until the big countdown begins. In 21 days I will be 29 and 12 months later, Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, I will be 30. In this moment in my life I am turning the Obama lens on myself. I am looking at myself as I am and simultaneously wondering about my future, myself as I should and I want to be.

It has taken me years to cross the hurdle of really knowing and understanding who I am and in the vague sense of adjectives and descriptions I have come to some conclusions about who I should and want to be. Now if I could just figure out how to get there. The life I’ve lived thus far has been just as much about time as it has been about preparation. I’ve been prepared to move to the next levels and phases at just the right time when opportunities have presented themselves for that movement.

Three weeks from the start of the countdown to my next numeric milestone I have questions about me and where and how I'm going there in this universe. Tonight I’ll pray about it before I go to bed. My life as it is and my life as it should be and making it happen.

Black Underwear

2008-08-11T22:21:00.000-04:00

I decided sometime in June that I was going to make the switch. The plan is that by the end of the year with the exception of a couple of novelty ones I will only own black underwear. Briefs, boxer briefs and bikinis. All black.

I realized that when I wore black underwear that I felt more mature, confident and sexier. Along with that I also recognized that I just look damn good in them too. So, I began the hunt for a maker or makers of black underwear that suit my palette.

After searching for some that I thought were cute and affordable I decided on purchasing a few packs of Tommy Hilfiger black hip briefs and flag briefs. I loved them. I liked the cut, the look, the feel and the comfort – the price wasn’t bad either.

A week later I returned to my favorite retailer only to find that they had no more of the styles I wanted in my size or color. And so it began, weeks of waiting, going to other stories, unsuccessfully ordering them online, thinking I’d found them in other places only to be let down when they didn’t have my size either. But I believed.

I believed that I was going to get the underwear I wanted. I believed that somehow, some way I was going to walk in the store and there they would be – on a day I had it in my budget to buy more no less. I was going to feel mature, confident and sexy without the black underwear but damn it I wanted them! I didn’t know how I was going to get them but I knew that I would.

One day last week I finally found the time to put in a call to the department store near my job and remarkably for the first time I was actually able to speak to a manager on duty that I could query about the state of black underwear in the men’s department. He heard me out, apologized and said that they were on back order and that one day soon he expected them. It may have been lip service but it was better than the typical no answers I got from the floor staff.

The next day I was having a very rough day. I had been coming and going and nearly in a daze when that afternoon I stumbled into the department store and that is when it happened. It happened when I least expected it. Just yesterday the manager told me he didn’t know when my black underwear would be in but on that day as I approached the display I saw them. They were in my size. They were in the style and color I wanted. They were there. After a long and tiring day and over a month of waiting and wanting I was able to buy all the black underwear I could afford that day, which was more because I happened to have in my bag the store gift card that I’d gotten recently from my boss for a job well done. In life we must cherish even the small victories. I celebrated getting the underpants I wanted, when I usually celebrate getting into the underpants of someone I’ve wanted. Those black underwear made me happy. They also made me think about life in a general too.

I believed that I was going to get what I wanted. I went to that store and others actively searching for them. I picked up the phone and communicated my wants to someone who could do something about it. I followed up. I was persistent and consistent. In the end I was rewarded. I know for sure, this is also true about life’s other wants and goals.

Seven years ago today I moved to Washington, DC to attend graduate school. When I arrived I had enough money to pay my rent, $265 in cash and two interviews for part time jobs to get me through the school year and most importantly I cam here with the belief, hope and faith that I would do well and succeed. Today I have more blessings than I even imagined then. For that I am grateful.

There are still a lot more things that I want to accomplish, achieve, and still many steps for me to become the man I want to be. I believe that I can and will.

The quest for my black underwear was a good and timely reminder.

I love my underwear.

T.I. vs GOTV

2008-08-03T18:31:00.002-04:00

I have seen two television shows run segments on the Hip Hop Caucus’ decision to use famed and sometimes troubled rap artist T.I. as their spokesperson for their 2008 get out the vote campaign.

These media outlets have taken shots at the organization and their choice of national spokesman because T.I. who has had run-ins with the law is actually not able to vote in the upcoming election. These half assed reports and the producers who allow them to take shots at T.I. and the Caucus are good examples of poor media and the most shallow of reporting jobs.

Rather than chide T.I. and the Caucus perhaps they could dig deeper and try to inform the public that it isn’t ironic that T.I. can’t vote and is urging others to do so, but that T.I. represents and extremely large number of American citizens who have been disenfranchised from the electoral system because of their past criminals records – so many of them being poor people and people of color. Yes, two groups who don’t sit in the producer or reporters chair often enough and thus we get shoddy pieces on television that boost stereotypes and border on racism that are being passed off as news stories.

It is historic fact that the laws prohibiting ex felons from voting expanded and began to be increasingly enforced after African American men were first given the right to vote. In Northern states the laws were put on the books mostly to decrease the number of poor people overall from voting. The trend to suppress the voices and the votes of poor people and racial and ethnic minorities continues.

The revolution won’t be televised because there are too many people running news rooms and television shows that are more inclined to cover stories on the most surface of levels rather than to do anything as radical as to explain not just what is happening but why it is so.

Truth is. . .

2008-07-27T21:57:00.000-04:00

Things have changed and so have I.

Small Sweet Kisses

2008-07-23T23:24:00.000-04:00

She knows the truth.

The thing about intense and deeply connected relationships is that often one party knows what the other party is thinking before he or she can say anything, or express that thought through action. Some circumstances present themselves and one party can react prior to there even being an action.

That is why I believe my wife knows that I am thinking of leaving her. Today wherever I turned, whenever she had the opportunity she sprinkled me with small gentle kisses. At the cleaners, on the bus, at work, during lunch, at the department store, on the train. She kissed my neck, my lips, my cheeks and my forehead. Wherever I went she kissed. Whatever I wanted to be kissed, she kissed.

No matter what people may think, it is in fact the smaller things in life that more often make me smile or tingle on the inside. She knows me well enough to know that and that is why she gave me so many gentle pecks today. She did what she did today to remind me why I first fell in love with her and to entice me to stay.

Her intuition is correct because while I haven’t said anything to her I am thinking about leaving her. More than I ever have. After many moons, several seasons and so many good times, this decision is weighing heavy on my mind. And I think it is going to take more than showers of small kisses to keep us together.

Day Five

2008-07-18T21:09:00.001-04:00

My morning began a little after 7:00AM. There was nothing but me, a short prayer, a multi-flavor popsicle and an entertaining episode of Clifford the Big Red Dog on my local PBS station. I sat on my sofa wondering if I were to drink the last Smirnoff Ice in my fridge would my colleagues at work would notice any difference in my so called normal behavior. The sun hadn’t been up very long and it was hot already. The weatherman predicted that today the temperature would reach beyond 90 degrees and the infamous humidity of the District would take no prisoners.

This is how I would begin day five.

For the past five days I have been working to break cycles and improve myself for the better – or at least that is my hope.

Since Monday I have packed my lunch daily and only eaten meals I have prepared at home. I have not done this for a continuous week since sometime last year and I am really not sure if I did it for an entire week then. But this is the challenge and goal I have given myself. I noticed months ago that I spend what may be an unreasonable amount of money eating out and going out and using food and drink as socializing tools. While they are great tools, I must learn to lean on others in my arsenal for the sake of my wallet and my waist line.

This has been a big thing for me. I don’t like to cook and I am a huge fan of convenience. Yet, as someone once said, “I will sacrifice my wants of today in order to satisfy my needs of tomorrow.” In my case that means I can put more money toward my reserve fund as well as my upcoming trip to Paris. Currently the American dollar isn’t worth much over there and by the time I get there in November I doubt that much will have changed about that fact. To that end, I need to save every dollar I can. I also figure this will help me to stop eating so much of the wrong things.

Today also marks day five of my decision not to speak about my desire, want, pursuit or lack of a significant other unless otherwise asked or prompted to by the person I am speaking with. I have come to conclusion that talking about it hasn’t gotten me much further to changing that situation, good Lord my friends must be tired of me talking about it and perhaps most importantly and most selfishly – I am tired of talking about it, hearing about it, discussing it and dissecting. So I have decided to seal lips on the topic.

As another communication scholar and good friend of mine pointed out to me today, ceasing the conversation about it takes away power from it and at the same time empowers me. She also noted the Sapir-Whorf communication theory. The hypothesis postulates that a particular language's nature influences the habitual thought of its speakers: that different language patterns yield different patterns of thought.

The sun has gone down now and I am in my bedroom with the air conditioner on high. I have had the last Smirnoff Ice and will soon quench my thirst with a sex on the beach while imaging I really was on one. Before I know it I will be asleep and it will be day six.

The Power of Prayer

2008-07-15T22:50:00.001-04:00

As a little boy I thought that there was only one way to do it. After my bath my mother and I would kneel beside my bed and I would pray. It was very short, but it was my prayer. As I grew up I realized that prayer was more than something to do at the side of my bed at days end and more than blessing the food before we ate.

Developing from child to young man in the body and in the world I realized so also did my prayer. It continues to grow and develop and so does my understanding of this very powerful dialogue with God. It is more than just a saying to me; it is my most heartfelt conviction, that in fact prayer does change things.

I recall a hot summer day being on my knees in the floor, in the stifling heat, head bowed, body bent and calling out to God for strength. He answered.

I remember a cool autumn night underneath a clear sky, wind gently blowing against my face, praying that God would remove me from a place and situation that I didn’t know how to handle. He answered.

I remember a white winter day, I desperately wanted water. It wasn’t because I was thirsty, but because my family needed to be clean. He answered.

Moreover, there was the spring that I was too overwhelmed and I couldn’t pray to go on so others prayed for me. I kept on going. He answered.

In all seasons I know that he answers prayers.

Prayer is powerful, even phenomenal.

I grow and move about the world, I have noticed most recently that my prayers have moved from simply my lips and thoughts to my touch.

It is in my fingers now. Prayer has extended itself to my arms and body extensions.

First, just a few weeks ago with a stranger. I saw something in his eyes. I heard just a little of it in his voice. So before we departed ways we hugged and when we did I immediately began to pray on, for and over him. He will never know. But I know that God answers prayers. And I believe that man needed an answer.

Then it happened in the most remarkable way. While I had such a great time on my trip to Mississippi there is a single instance that I think stands out to me more than the others, and there were several significant ones.

But what I don’t think I will ever forget is when I hugged my young cousin goodbye. The heat from his hands on my back and mine on his was love. I rubbed his back and held him close. I know in that moment, God had embraced both of us. I prayed for him. I prayed for the both of us. I love my cousin and I know that God answers prayers.

Amen.

Time

2008-06-04T21:14:00.000-04:00

Last night I sat on my couch and watched the junior senator from Illinois tell the world that he would be the democratic nominee for President of the United States. The world will never be the same.

Eight weeks ago I was walking home from an event. Walking down a street I have walked down countless times. I was mugged. I was pushed to the ground, repeatedly hit and robbed. I am the survivor of a violent crime. It took several weeks but I no longer feel the pain in my ankle that was injured that night. It has been healed. However, I will never be the same.

In one month I will make my first trip back to Mississippi since I was in elementary school. It has been nearly twenty years since I stepped on the soil where my mother’s mother was born and raised. The same city limits where my father lived his entire life. In Mississippi, in the heart of Sunflower County, that is where my roots are. There is both excitement and anxiety that surrounds this voyage for me. I will see family members I haven’t seen in years. I will meet extended family members that I have never met. I have decided that I will visit my father’s mother. I will be my most natural self. I will present to them my authentic self. I doubt that I will ever be the same.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

2008-05-20T23:56:00.002-04:00

Tonight after work I felt bad. I found myself in Macy’s searching for something to purchase because temporarily it would have made me feel better. I would have had some new item of clothing to continue to dress up my outward appearance and make that look good even when my inside did not.

I was in Macy’s because I didn’t want to come where I knew I would be by myself. I didn’t want to come home.

Time for me can be dangerous.

I wonder do other people know why I don’t like to sit still. I suppose not because people keep telling me to do so. But I don’t like to be idle. First, because I am by nature involved. I like to be occupied. I like for my mind to be stimulated. I like to create and make and watch things come to fruition. That excites me. It is when I am at my best. Second, it is because when I am not otherwise engaged and have time on my hands I am forced to think about that I am by myself. That is the law of my mind and body. If I stay busy I do not have to dwell on the sad things, those things that make me unhappy. I am too busy doing something that will make me happy, something that I can see, touch, taste, smell, hold and share. In sitting still, I realize how I am still by myself. Those are the two reasons why I don’t like to sit still.

My truth is my truth. I cannot run from it and there are times when I confront it. Other times it is just easier to keep going. It is often hard for me to explain to some people. I wish more of my closest friends would get it, get me even.

It bothers me, even hurts at times, when the people I care about most, who say they care about me – when I speak to them and I don’t think they hear what I am saying. Everyone who tells me don’t worry about it, everyone that tells me that it will come, everyone that says enjoy what I have now while I have it – all of them have had what I want at some stage, point, date or time – they have all experienced the very thing that has and currently eludes me.

The audacity.

How dare someone tell me, the one that has waited in line almost 29 years for something to get over it, or move on, or don’t think about it? Well that is easy for you to say because you already had a chance, a try, a failure, a success, an experience of your own.

I cannot point to one man who has pointed to me and yelled, whispered or signed the words, “I love you.”

You see a rainbow then tell the blind man that he shouldn’t want to see one too. Or tell him that it isn’t all that wonderful. That is easy for a man with vision in his eyes to say. You have seen the beauty for yourself and while you may have even seen the rainbow disappear; the blind man has still seen nothing but darkness.

How dare you discount his desire to see a rainbow, you, you who have opened and closed your eyes again and again? You, who have seen a rainbow. You, who wouldn’t trade that vision for anything else, especially not darkness.

Not Enough

2008-05-05T21:42:00.000-04:00

I don’t think that I will ever forget her words. When I heard them they made my body sink deeper in my seat as the meaning of the words sunk into brain. He told her that all he ever had in this world was himself and she said simply, ‘and that ain’t never gonna be enough.’ Damn. No matter what, something – that something even being his whole self, was never going to be enough. Never.

Tonight as I wrap up my evening I think about how miss Langston. It has been over a month since we last spoke and I can’t even recall the last time we spoke or saw each other and I could hear any inclination of his desire for me in his voice. Not only do I miss him, I miss hearing that little something in his voice that would from time to time give me hope that one day despite the geographical distance that he and I would one day be together.

It was me who decided that I’d stop reaching out to Langston. Stop sending emails. Stop forwarding articles. Stop sending text messages. Stop calling him. It was me that came to the conclusion that no matter how bad I wanted or maybe even subconsciously still, want to be with him that want alone, from only my end, would never be enough.

After many trials and errors, Aziza and I came up with two rules for dating. The first is ‘don’t want anyone that doesn’t want you.’ The second is ‘if he too wants you, you must both want the same thing.’

In the years that have gone by since I met Langston on that beautiful LA day, he and I have not been able to hop either of those two hurdles. After all that want and desire. After all that wishing and somersaulting.

For Langston, that ain’t never gonna be enough.

Pray for Me

2008-04-09T15:32:00.000-04:00

The Bible tells us that "One can chase a thousand, but two can put ten thousand to flight!" (Deuteronomy 32:30) Today I call to my brethren to come to my side. I am standing in the need of prayer. I prayed this morning very briefly and found a few quite minutes during my day thus far but I believe I need more and fear I cant do it all on my own or alone.

I don’t recall the last time I had a string of events like this. The last few months my family has gone through an awful lot. There has been a foreclosure, lies, death, a car accident and even I have been the victim of a violent crime. This morning on my way to work I got a call from my sister. She wanted me to know that my mother was sick and that my brother was en route to take our mother to the hospital. I had just spoken to her last night. I thought that she was all right or at least coming along. She hadn’t been hospitalized for her struggle since I was in junior high school. The hospital has asked to keep her for observation for several days. I was wrong.

But what I must be right about is my belief that God is in control and that everything that has happened is in some way part of his divine order and plan. It is a plan that I cannot understand nor comprehend. The Bible points out to us that “the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength.” (1 Corinthians 1:25) and to “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5)

The mothers at the church used to sit on the front pew during devotion and sing with something in their voice I never knew. They used to rock side to side and sing ‘pray for me.’ Now I know what that was in their voice. It is not a word. It was a feeling. And today I feel it.

Cry Freedom

2008-04-01T22:57:00.000-04:00

It is raining outside. When I heard the rain beating on the windows the little voice in my head said, finally. I suppose in my unconscious mind I had been waiting on the rain. Waiting on it to beat down on me and this Earth and wash things away. Let the rain cool things down. Let the rain usher my voyage into meditation. Let the rain cleanse me and all that surrounds. Lord knows, we can all use his water. Ain’t rain really holy water? It comes from God. In the most natural form I’ve ever seen. It drops straight from the heavens. Nothing but God, touching you with every drop.

The past few weeks I have needed rain and just like everyday, but some days I felt like more than some of my past days, I have needed rain because rain is God. God to wash me. God to guide me. God to center me.

I’ve had a lot of stuff on my mind. Death and life are on that list. But so are the words freedom and disillusionment.

What exactly is freedom? Is it so complex, does it come in many forms or is there truly just one and it is effortless and simple. I owe a financial debt. Right now it doesn’t bother me so much but I owe it and I think about it because it is the only on paper, documented debt that I owe anyone or institution. It is the only tangible thing that I have that I cannot legally walk away from. I have been wondering even more as of late what I would feel like if that debt were removed. If that binding document no longer existed between myself and that entity. What if I was able to walk away? How would I feel? What would it mean, if anything? If it were not in striking distance I doubt the thought of me making it disappear wouldn’t consume me as much. But it does.

I wonder if it would make me feel like a different person. Would that freedom allow me to realize and welcome others? I think that is what I ponder most. Would it serve as a catalyst for me to drop everything and travel the country, the world, continue the journey of the discovery of me? Or would I feel and be the same man that I already am.

There is a power in being able to envision your own life. I strongly believe this to be true. It has been said a thousand ways by thousands of preachers, teachers and lay persons, that if you can see it you can achieve it. God wouldn’t show you something that he wouldn’t allow you to touch.

Over time I have become disillusioned with romantic love. I love, love but I don’t think I love it how I used to. That frightens me. What alarms me most really is that when I close my eyes and picture my future there is no one standing beside me. I do not see him or his image. I told my best friend and she offered that indeed it may be difficult for me to imagine something I have never seen or had, a true love relationship. That disappointed me. Not that she had pointed out the challenges of my past and future to me but that I had realized in some ways I have already begun to accept the defeat of those challenges.

And I wonder if there is any freedom in that.

Our Nation in Black & Wright

2008-03-23T16:17:00.003-04:00

Selective perception is the idea that not all people see and interpret an environmental stimuli or act of communication in the same way. What a person sees and how he or she interprets it is based on his or her own individual beliefs and life experiences. Because no two people are exactly alike, it can never be taken for granted that any two people will perceive something in exactly the same way. The assertion that individual’s perceptions are based on their personal experiences is reinforced by standpoint theories. Standpoint theories are based on the idea that the world looks different based on your social standing. These vantage or standpoints are the result of a person’s field experiences as defined by social group membership. Interracial communication scholars suggest people often see life drastically different based on the social standing of their racial or ethnic group membership and that different racial standpoints potentially generate contrasting perceptions of reality and reasoning. Further, they suggest that standpoints affect how people communicate as well as perceive the communication of others and understanding of differing racial standpoints could enhance interracial communication consequently improve race relations dialogue in the United States.

Since the arrival of the first person of African descent to the North American continent in the late 1500’s to the institution of slavery, to Jim Crow laws, to the Civil Rights Movement to the Los Angeles, California riots of 1992 to the riots in Cincinnati, Ohio in 2001, people of African descent and those of European have traditionally had a tumultuous and very unique history living with each other. Because of their vastly different histories it is no wonder they often share different vantage points.

Throughout the history of the United States African Americans have developed views on domestic and foreign policy that have been in contrast to the mainstream. Among the policy issues that have generated differing standpoints are the United States government’s role in military action abroad and their reasoning to initiate or support such actions, particularly on nations where the majority of the population is people of color.

Because different standpoints have often been taken by African Americans on issues foreign policy issues involving military involvement questions concerning the loyalty and patriotism of African Americans have risen in past. Some have argued African Americans are sometimes not patriotic because they don’t support United States military action. Is this the case?

In 1919 following the first World War, W.E.B. Du Bois wrote in The Crisis:

“By the God of Heaven, we are cowards and jackasses if now that the war is over, we do not marshal every ounce …to fight a… more unbending battle against the forces of hell in our land.”

After returning from World War I racial discrimination still blatantly existed through out America and the continuance of the practice of lynching experienced a dramatic increase.

During World War II many African Americans adopted the concept of the “double V”. The “double V” concept was that the war must end with two victories, both abroad and at home. With not enough progress in racial justice by the close of World War II and immediately following, the window by which African Americans viewed domestic and foreign policy as they relate to each other had been built and would be set precedent for future United States military involvement.

During the 1967 antiwar march in Central Park many Blacks carried signs that said “NO VIETNAMESE EVER CALLED ME NIGGER.”

In 2001, Cornel West shared with an audience that African Americans had been victims of “institutional forms of terrorism” for many years before September 11 and eluded that the compensation given to victims of the families of the September 11 tragedies resembled reparations and African Americans still haven’t received any from more than 200 years of slavery.

Surely the dialogue on race and its implications in the United States has a long way to go. While I may not agree with everything he said, however in some instances, Jeremiah may have been right.

Memo: Geraldine Ferraro

2008-03-13T00:35:00.002-04:00

Ms. Ferraro:

You have been quoted as saying that Barack Obama is “"lucky" to be black, and that he would not be where he is today "if he were a white man" or "a woman." You have gone on to say that you will not be discriminated against because you are white.

Ms. Ferraro may I please remind you of the following:

Black males 18-24 years old have the highest homicide victimization rates. Their rates are more than double the rates for black males age 25 and older and almost 4 times the rates for black males 14-17 years old. (Bureau of Justice Statistics)

One in nine black men between the ages of 20 and 34 is in prison. (Pew Center on the States)

The share of young black men without jobs has climbed relentlessly, with only a slight pause during the economic peak of the late 1990's. In 2000, 65 percent of black male high school dropouts in their 20's were jobless — that is, unable to find work, not seeking it or incarcerated. By 2004, the share had grown to 72 percent, compared with 34 percent of white and 19 percent of Hispanic dropouts. Even when high school graduates were included, half of black men in their 20's were jobless in 2004, up from 46 percent in 2000. (“Reconnecting Disadvantaged Young Men" - Urban Institute Press, 2006).

Incarceration rates climbed in the 1990's and reached historic highs in the past few years. In 1995, 16 percent of black men in their 20's who did not attend college were in jail or prison; by 2004, 21 percent were incarcerated. By their mid-30's, 6 in 10 black men who had dropped out of school had spent time in prison. (“Reconnecting Disadvantaged Young Men" - Urban Institute Press, 2006).

In the inner cities, more than half of all black men do not finish high school. (“Reconnecting Disadvantaged Young Men" - Urban Institute Press, 2006).

African Americans have the highest age-adjusted death rate for heart disease, cancer, diabetes, and HIV/AIDS. (Center for Disease Control)

Black people have come to bear the greatest burden of AIDS in America. They represent 54 percent of the new HIV/AIDS cases in America, 70 percent of the new cases among American youth are Black, and nearly 67 percent of the new HIV/AIDS cases among American women are Black, and 43 percent of the new cases among men are Black. Most importantly, the majority of those still dying from AIDS in America, totaling more than 18,000 last year, were Black. (Black AIDS Institute)

As you have said that your comments were taken out of context I hope that not even you could take those staggering realities listed above out of context.

To that end Ms. Ferraro, please be clear that Barack Obama is not lucky to be who he is. He is lucky to be alive in America.

After you've done all you can...

2008-03-05T18:07:00.000-05:00

The past two weeks I have been very stressful and the past few days have been full of emotions ranging from near rage to sadness. My mind has been racing, I have yelled, I have been spinning….spinning…spinning. And now I am calm. In a few hours I am heading home to be with my family and I am slowly beginning to feel at peace.

I believe my body and mind are winding down now because it knows that it needs the rest and more importantly it knows that it has done all that it can do. I spent a great deal of the day going back and forth with my mother over the language and layout of the program that will be shared with others at my grandmothers’ home-going. In the end I was satisfied. My final gifts to her will be the gifts that God has blessed me with so abundantly. I have placed my hands on how she will remembered in writing forever and Saturday I will read a verse from the old and from the new. She enjoyed hearing me read. My spirit too will be at peace.

Soul Gone Home

2008-03-01T11:33:00.000-05:00

The only thing promised in life is death. Last week my grandmother turned 72 and yesterday she died.

I thank God for those 72 years and for the memories that I will forever have of her and her particular ways. I believe that is one of the things that I will remember most about the beautiful woman that she was, that she had always been very particular. The last time I saw her alive back in December I remember I chuckled because she was in her gentle manner giving orders about how she wanted something to be done – her way. I laughed because that is how she always has been. She was a very neat woman. Her home, her hair, her clothes, her food, everything that she placed her fingers into she found it her duty to mold it in a particular form. That day in December I was instructed by her how to put the moisturizer on her hands and arms. Even that had to be done in a particular way.

She loved her grandchildren and she showed that love to us in her own particular way. Her grandchildren loved her.

As a child we did not always have the strongest of relationships. But just last week I noted to my mother how I was so delighted that God had turned that around. As I grew older and matured, so did she and our relationship and understanding of each other blossomed. I had a great respect for her.

I wonder if when her spirit got to heaven was it greeted by the spirits of my aunt and uncle with the same excitement they had when they were little children and she would come home.

I marveled at how she had done it. She was a woman who bore and raised four children and buried two of them. Yet, she kept going. Love had not always loved her. Her children had not always treated her right. Yet, she kept going.

Now that her soul has gone home I pray that it is in a state of everlasting peace. No more crying there.

How He Moves

2008-02-20T13:51:00.001-05:00

How does a black man move? He moves like water. At times like a gentle brook. At times like a forceful rush. At all times like the beautiful and engaging men of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater company.

Last night it was my great privilege and pleasure to enjoy their performance inside the jewel box on the Potomac River as Judith Jamison referred to it.

With each extension, leap, stretch, saunter and breathe filled contraction I witnessed not just masters of modern American dance and ballet whose athletic prowess and agility surpass professional athletes I also saw a natural beat inherit in an entire race of men. An irrepressible rhythm. A constant cadence. In every heart beat. In every bat of the lashes. In every outward expression. In every moment.

That rhythm and cadence live in me. And when I close my eyes we dance together.

To Hillary with Love

2008-02-10T21:24:00.000-05:00

My Dearest Valentine,

In all these years I’ve never sat and taken the time to write you a letter. But this year is so different from any other year or single moment that we have shared together. It is the thing that makes this year and time in our relationship so different that also makes writing this letter so difficult. Valentine’s Day is approaching and while I think that I should be focusing on our love and moving forward together I find myself struggling to understand the dynamics of our relationship and wondering if it is time for you to release me so that I can truly be free. Sometimes your love is so domineering I don’t know if it is because you want to protect me, us or just yourself.

I won’t say that I know everything there is to know about relationships. But there are a few things that I do know about them. I know that in healthy relationships everyone involved is given an opportunity to grow, develop and come into their own. They do it together and by not being stagnant. I know that in good relationships everyone is not just allowed a voice, but everyone is listened to and heard. I know that in relationships where both parties care about each other and not just themselves they make hard decisions, like leaving the relationship rather than holding on to someone who no longer wants to be held on to. I know that in loving relationships the “I” is often replaced with the “we.”

So rarely, does this happen. I am beginning to tear up. Down my left cheek a tear of frustration runs. Down my right cheek there is a tear of disappointment. I never thought a year ago that this day would come. A day that I would feel that you wanted so badly to hold on to me that you would rather let me suffocate in the status quo to say that we are lovers than to let me explore, expand and change my horizons alone or with another. Is this love?

Yours truly,
ClayStarr

The F Word

2008-01-22T23:38:00.000-05:00

I just had one of the most difficult conversations that I have ever had with my mother. I have been in trouble. I have told her that I was gay. I have nearly failed out of school. I have had all sorts of conversations with my mother over the years but none was as real as the one we just had. It was about one of the single most non-talked about issues in my family. It was about finances. It was about financial well being.

Right now I am frustrated and sad. I am frustrated because I feel helpless because there is so much that I feel like I cant do and have not done. I have but a thimble full of knowledge about personal finances but I wish that all at once I could pour it into her and she would find herself full and empowered. But I know that it does not happen like that and I wonder how could I learn what I have and she in her years hasn’t learned as much or more.

I am sad because I know where her journey could lead her. Just the other day I spoke with Oh-Canada about my deepest fears about the financial well being of my very working class family. I have prayed for years that God would continue to keep us in good spirits and in good health. As we grow older my prayers for good health has taken on more meaning and I have extended my prayers to include prosperity and favor. My mother is aging. My older sister and brother aren’t young as they once were either. I wonder how will they/we survive.

It had been heavy on my heart for the past few days. I suppose that it came to the forefront of my thoughts some months ago really. My mother is still working and she is getting up there and as I begin to think about my mortality and how I will take care of myself when I am old, I turn my attention to her as well. The woman who cared for and nurtured me, the woman who loves me more than anyone on this Earth, how will she take care of herself in her golden years? Will I be charged with taking care of her? What am I doing to prepare myself to take care of the both of us if need be. She is my mother and as long as I have, so does she.

So tonight, I called her when I got home from work and just flat out asked her what she was doing. Her answers were not enough. I took out a pen, paper and a calculator and started asking her questions to really get to the bottom of her financial state. As a child she and I never talked about money. As an adult, until tonight we had never really had an open discussion about it either. She only knew that I always paid my bills. For her that was enough. One thing I asked her tonight was who does she talk to about her financial security. She said that she spoke to no one.

I told her that she goes to her preacher or her women’s group when she needs spiritual guidance, and that she calls her doctor when she is has an ache or pain or just wants to schedule her annual physical and in the same token, professional or knowledgeable friend she had to start talking to someone about her finances and her plan for financial well being. There were times on the phone when I was shocked. There were times when I felt sympathetic because I knew that some of the reason that she had gone without in the past was because she was making sure that I did not go with out anything. Now, who was looking after her?

We developed a strategy to reduce her short term debt and we also had a very tough conversation about reducing her monthly lifestyle expenses so that she could increase her monthly savings. What made that so hard wasn’t talking about the thing that she was going to cut – but the reason she enjoyed that ‘luxury.’ I knew it meant a lot to her but I couldn’t support it.

I still feel all over the place. I am glad that we had the conversation and I know that it was good and better results will come from it. I hope that she will become more empowered and make sound and reasonable decisions about her spending. I told her that there was not a human being on the face of this Earth that I loved or valued more and that I wanted her to place that same value on herself. Minutes after the conversation, I suppose now I don’t feel as helpless because I think that I may have been able to provide a path and Lord willing some hope.

I know you are but what am I?

2008-01-15T23:50:00.000-05:00

As children we had countless arguments and as adults we have not always agreed on everything. However, in all of my years I don’t think I ever called my sister the name I called her tonight. I know that she loves me and just the other day I telephoned her just to tell her that I love her but that couldn’t stop me from feeling how I felt this evening. That couldn’t stop me from calling her the name that I did.

Of course, I know that in sum she isn’t what I called her. She has been very good to me and everyone else in my family, to her friends, to my friends, to the young people she works with. But tonight we had a disagreement and I called her selfish.

On the surface it is a simple matter. Everyone in the family has come to a consensus on an issue. My sister is the sole dissenter. She says, for the same reasons she always uses when it comes to matters like this, that she can’t afford it and that when looking at the grand scheme of things she can’t side with everyone else because it is not in her best interest. That pissed me off. That is when I told her that I needed to get off the phone with her because I was disappointed and there was nothing else at this hour for us to discuss. She had made her decision and on this issue we would agree to disagree.

Yet, what I battle with now isn’t just my feelings about what I said to my sister, or how I feel about her decisions, or my concerns about her reasons for coming to her own conclusion, moreover, not even that I need to step back and try to see this thing from her point of view - but what I am wrestling with now is her response to me calling her selfish. This in some way really makes me the selfish one for making it about me.

She ended our back and forth with – Sometimes we all have to put our individual self ahead of our families. You should know that. Where do you live? Not here with us.

It is true. I live hundreds of miles away from my entire family. I graduated high school and with the exception of a few summers in college and the occasional holiday visit I have not looked back. I am not there with them on the day-to-day. I have created a world of my own in a new place, planted different roots and moved on. I have placed my individual self ahead of my family, and not just because I moved away and cannot participate in the activities of looking after and caring and sharing with them immediately and in their presence. There are also other reasons.

More often than not I am cognizant of those reasons and more often than not I do not feel guilty. My me has over the years become more the focus than my we. The last two years, seeing my grandparents age from visit to visit, the relationship with my brother and sister mature as we do and quest for centeredness has brought this to the fore front of my mind more than it had been in the past, yet I know that my me is still priority over my we. I don’t know if that is a bad thing or a good thing. Right now I recognize it and it is what it is.

Twenty years from now I don’t want to be resentful or resented. I suppose I have to figure out what it means for me to be true to myself while at the same time truly balanced and present in whatever ways as a son, brother and member of the tribe.

Choice Destinations

2008-01-11T00:11:00.000-05:00

I am delighted by choice. I have often said that life itself is simply about choices. And so it is often in my past that I did not even know the strength and power in that thought, in that call to live.

It became clearer to me today, more than it ever has before what choice is. Choice is not just an instance to select or an opportunity to choose. Choice is something much more tangible and real. Choice is a place. Choice is a place because when you make one you live in it, become a part of it and it gives you life in that it is the very air you breath. All around you is choice. So life is about choices. Furthermore, life is about where you live.

Today I chose love and not fear. Thus I am able to live in peace and happiness.
Today I chose progress and not regression. Thus I am able to live in development.
Today I chose to speak and not be silent. Thus I am able to live in confidence.

Life is about choices, the choices we make on how to act and react, how we view, understand, interpret, stand still or move on. Life is about the state of mind and consciousness we place ourselves in. Choose well. Love. Progress. Speak. Be.

Come here, sit on my lap.

2007-12-26T14:05:00.000-05:00

For the past several weeks I have been doing it again. I had been running around too busy or too lazy to what I should have been doing. Transitioning roles, taking in a few more lessons, doing a bit of this and a bit of that and always saying I would get around to centering myself again without ever really doing it. Just like a little child. So many things happening all at once at home I found myself running around, screaming, laughing playing, all in fun, all in my own time. When that happens, those with good parents usually step in and tell the child to quiet down. Relax a little bit. They speak the words, ‘Come here, sit on my lap.’

This morning I boarded the plane to head back home with AQueer. I fly because I have to, not because I want to and though the flight is only about 53 minutes I was glad he was sitting next to me. The flight took off and he and I enjoyed our typical banter and jokes as we recapped our time in Ohio with our families. Our flight was very early this morning and at some point AQueer began to drift off to sleep. Shortly the captain made an announcement that we would be experiencing some turbulence ahead. I clasped the arms to my seat tightly and prepared myself for the bumps. There I was again flying 30,000 feet above the Earth, being tossed about in the air like a rag doll, horribly uncomfortable. AQueer woke only for a moment to ask if I were okay. I told him no, but knowing there was nothing he could do to stop the turbulence he just turned his head and went back to sleep.

In that moment I chose to remain with my hands clutching the arms and to close my eyes. I thought that I would pray that God would see us to our destination safely. But that was not my prayer. In the less than a second that it took me to close my eyes, my ears were opened and I heard the simple words of my father, God, the Creator of the most high, in a calm and gentle voice say to me, his child, “Come here, sit on my lap’ and I did.

I sat on my father’s lap and more than he spoke to me his listened. I felt so cool and collected there, I felt so very much at peace. While I knew that the plane was shaking, I was not. I was in my center again. I could not be moved. It was another reminder to me that no matter what is going on in the world around me, no matter how the wind may blow, that when I am in my sacred spiritual place, that I can not be moved. I am grounded. I am at peace. I am at one with the Universe and all that is in it. The Universe is as at one with me and all that is in me.

During that quiet time I felt a connection that I desperately needed. A connection that I know always exist but I need to tap into it more often. His lap is always there.

Amber Alert: Jesus

2007-12-22T18:47:00.000-05:00

I know this is the season to be jolly. Everywhere I turn I see Christmas trees, Santa Claus, poinsettias, tons of red & green and sales in every store. This has been going on for weeks now. I have been consumed and completely emerged in the holidays. But where the hell is Jesus? I feel like more than ever, this year he has been incredibly absent. Is he a member of the Writer’s Guild of America too? That would easily explain his absence.

I think.

But as a consumerist American I am not really suppose to though.

Naughty me.

Maybe Santa won’t bring me anything now either.

So, since I’m thinking about it I will also question what happened to Hanukkah this year too. Granted, I am not a Jew, I do have lots of Jewish friends and this year I think I heard about less latke and vodka Hanukkah celebrations (popular among the twenty-something’s). I sure got invited to fewer of them. (Maybe I shouldn't have worn that Jesus Saves tshirt last year.)

I am a lover of words. I even studied rhetoric in college and almost pursued an advanced degree in it. Nevertheless, I pay attention to words and their meaning and their usage and how and why people use them. Today I noted how many people now say Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. While some can view this as an attempt to be politically correct and be all encompassing I think it can also be seen as a way to collect all the religious and ethnic observances and clump them into one more suitable for the companies that sell us everything so they can sell everyone a bunch of – everything. Without a religious or ethnic attachment to it there is free reign for every citizen to be a mass consumer. Perhaps this it just too much of a conspiracy theory, but perhaps I am right. With no Christmas and no Hanukkah, the generic Holidays has room to be like Wal-Mart and reign supreme. No more mom and pop stuff. The Holidays mean business.

Either way it goes over the next few days I’ll spend time with my family, eat lots of my mothers homemade cookies, enjoy some time off and get in touch with the Jesus in me – he doesn’t seem to be too many other places.

What would Jesus do? I don’t think he’d purposefully disappear on his birthday. Would he?

Bueller! Bueller!

Jesus! Jesus!

Dead Man Walking

2007-12-20T11:37:00.001-05:00

This morning on my way to work, I saw three policemen questioning two black male teenagers at the Metro stop. I looked at them and kept walking. It was nothing that I hadn’t seen before and it was nothing that I’m sure that I won’t see again. I was immune. I had no reaction to it.

A talented NFL player, Sean Taylor was fatally shot in his home. The allegedly burglary gone wrong, turned homicide was orchestrated and executed by several black teens.

Several weeks ago the DC Department of Health released a study that showed that HIV/AIDS is impacting African Americans in Washington, DC at horrifying rates, worse than any other city in America and similar to the statistics you would find in sub-Saharan African nations. I was not shocked by these numbers and I am sure that I will see again. I was immune to what I read. I had no reaction to it.

I wondered this morning, hours after I saw those young black boys, weeks after I had read those statistics, if those black males were dead men walking. After further analysis I wonder if I, HIV negative, no criminal history, on my way to being middle income, masters degree holding, world traveling, connoisseur of arts and literature, politically minded and engaged, 28 year old black male is the one who is really a dead man walking.

Often I have looked at other black males, my age, younger and older and judged them and their situations. I have looked at my brothers and thrown my hands up. Equally, I have looked at some and extended my hand. But where has that gotten them, me, us? Maybe we are all dead.

Maybe the rap music finally got us. Maybe the super prison that were built for us have eaten us all up. Maybe the decline of the once all mighty black church has led to the decline in the life expectancy of black males. Maybe the hundreds of years of the battle to fight institutional racism is finally over and the black man has just lost. Maybe the gains of the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s – three decades of progress were completely tarnished by one decade of a dangerous white rock that was like kryptonite to our community, our culture and our people. Maybe the increase in black men serving time in prison and the decrease in black men attending college means this is the end.

I must ask this.

Are the dead men walking the men who are unemployed, not taking care of their children, illiterate and in prison? Or are the dead men walking the men who are employed, not in jail, taking care of their children and those of other men, literate not in prison and not doing shit about the brothers that are?

Rhythmic Discourse

2007-12-19T11:31:00.000-05:00

My body was moving. My lips were closed, but I was talking. There were points when I knew I was talking to God and there were other moments when I knew I was only talking to myself. I was dancing. I was using my body as an instrument to express what I did and didn’t understand.

The room was dark. The only light there came from a candle and the light that shines within my belly. The music bumped. A woman’s voice sang. African drum beats mixed with a funky guitar. I just danced.

I don’t know what exactly led me to the place and space but I was comfortable when I was there. The day began with two words that affected me all day: sad news. It made me think about a love. The night ended with two words that I promised myself I would never let affect me again: no answer. It made me think about another kind of love. I thought but could not and really don’t think I wanted to talk, not in the traditional since. I wanted to think and pray and converse and meditate and express what I was feeling.

And that I did, in the floor, with the music, with the lights, with myself and with my God.

My Dream

2007-12-05T17:48:00.001-05:00

This morning I woke up and remembered my dream.

It was in color. I was sitting with my mother and I was being introduced. I was going to address an audience. Hurriedly, I was asking my mother questions and jotting down notes. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was going to say once I spoke. And when I stood there and opened my mouth these words began to flow out:

I am so happy and honored that you all invited me here to speak today. It truly is an honor to be chosen to speak here on a day devoted to youth, with an audience filled with so many young people. I am at an interesting point in my life where I am not exactly the age of those who invited me to speak, but not exactly the age of those who I am primarily being asked to speak to and I wont be that age ever again so that is why I rushed to accept the invitation to speak at a youth day.

So what all do I want to say to you ‘youth’, you beautiful young people? What words can I impart to those who may one day stand in this spot, to those who will be blessed enough to sit in the back one Sunday morning when their children are sitting in the front, on youth day? What do I say? I have thought this over and I am compelled to share with you these three lessons that I have learned, experience, benefited from and know that I will only be able to continue to move on or ahead because of them.

First, I must impart on you the idea that you must never let go. You must never give in. You must not stop. You must not lose sight. You must not take your hands off. You must fight to the finish. You must run on to the end. The Bible tells us the story of a man who entered a cave one night. He entered this dark place with not much knowledge of what was all going to be in there. All he knew is that in this dark place, separated from the rest of the world, which was also at this time of evening dark, that he was going to face a fight. Hr also knew that when he got in that cave and started fighting that losing the battle was not an option. He knew that no matter what he had to fight.

My, my young people – let us park here for a minute. For while I say the Bible tells us of this man who entered a dark cave where he didn’t know who or what exactly was in there, we know that we live in that very cave – or world today. Times are not as they used to be. Violence is rampant. Lust is fills the air. Integrity is often absent. Temptation surrounds. Envy is common. Bling bling is the thing thing that drives us to chase and pursue all the wrong things. We are in a dark place. A dark cave and it is often hard to see what is truly behind or ahead of us but we must seek light. We must seek light and we know that in order to come out of this cave, to get that light, to create light around us, that we will only get it by doing it on our own, by putting up a fight.

So in the Biblical story, the man is in this cave, he has entered and the fight is on. He is bruised. He is beaten. They wrestle. They roll on the floor. They bump against the walls. They rumble. All night long.

They both get a little tired. They both get a little weary. But they continue. Hours pass.

And they wrestle.

Hours pass.

And they roll on the floor.

Hours pass and they bump against the walls.

Hours pass.

And they rumble.

Alas, it looks like the day is going to break outside the cave.

This being says to the man – okay, I’ve had enough of this fighting let me go.

The man says to him – No! I won’t let you go until you bless me. Not until I have won.

Sit with me on the side again young people, in this life, right now, the one that you are living there are going to be obstacles, threats, hills, valleys – there are going to be fights that you face in your quest for personal greatness – living your best life, living the life that God intended for you to live is not going to be easy. In fact it will get harder and harder along your journey but you have to remember is that you can’t stop fighting, you can’t let go – not until you get your blessing! Not until the sunrises! Not until!

So let life toss you. Roll on the floor with it. Bump against the wall with it. Do what you got to do but don’t let go.

My second point lends itself to the first, which was don’t give up, it is do your part.

Now, no matter how young you are I am sure that you have read or been told the great story of Moses leading his people out of slavery and harsh conditions. Everyone loves this story because it is a fantastic illumination of what God can do. He parted a sea. Imagine that, God, in his almighty power made water part. Not just some water, but a whole sea so that his people could get across on their path to freedom. My, my. What an awesome power he is.

But what I marvel at when this story is retold is not just what God did for his people, but at what the people he chose did.

When we examine the text we learn that Moses was given instruction to get to a certain point, raise his stick and the water would part. Next all of his followers would have a minimal amount of time to run across to the other side before the water would return to its normal flow.

Note young people, Moses had to lift the stick. This alone exhibited great faith and Moses had to exercise that great faith. The water just didn’t move automatically when people got there. Moses had to do something.

Note young people, God moved the water, he didn’t move the people. Stop. Think about. We always pray and ask God to do things for us. We must ask ourselves what are we doing to prepare ourselves to receive what God has for us and moreover. Are we doing are part. Praying to get into college means nothing if you haven’t filled out the application, young people. Then we also got folks who want blessings that they are not prepared to receive. You say you want a new car – do you have money for gas? Stop. Think about it. We must also ask, are we doing what we are supposed to in order for God to bless us?

The part about the story of Moses parting the Red Sea that moves me is that those folks had sense of enough to move themselves. God didn’t part the sea and then levitate everyone and take them across – although he could have. Instead he parted the sea and said run for yourself! The Promise Land is on the other side and I have made a way for you but you must exercise the free will that I have given to you and run to get there yourself. Old folks always remind us that God will make a way out of no way and I’m here to remind you young people that it is up to you to follow that way.

Then I woke up.

Secret

2007-12-04T23:20:00.001-05:00

Sometimes when I’m talking to someone and there is a long pause I break the silence by asking them to tell me a secret. I’m sitting at my desk in silence right now and I have asked myself for the same thing I ask of others – a secret. But as I sit I realize that at the moment I have more one go share.

My secret is that today I pressed my hand to my chest and wondered where Beauty was. I pray that wherever he is that he is doing well. I pray that he is praying.

My secret is that I am hiding something from my boss and I don’t know when I can whisper this secret in her ear for sure but time is running out. I don’t know if she will be moved to scream by whisper.

My secret is that twice this week I have touched flesh but I long for someone to touch my heart.

Path to Peace

2007-11-13T11:47:00.001-05:00

I read somewhere once that if you walk closer to God that he would walk closer to you. And after weeks of internal restlessness I have taken the right path and already I feel it.

Sunday night my mind stopped racing as fast as it had been. Something in my spirit began to settle. I felt myself returning to myself. I moved to my living room floor. In darkness I found light sitting there, at first alone, later with the spirit of the most high surely surrounding.

I prayed and meditated. What had become a daily routine had not been for the last couple of weeks. So busy coming and going, I had not taken the proper steps to nurture my spirit.

As I sat there confusion began to leave me while peace entered. Still. Quiet. Ease. I was returning to my center and every since that moment all the thoughts and things that had in any way troubled me the last few weeks have come to a calm. I have let them go. And a spirit greater than me has taken them.

Amazing, what it means to walk on the path to peace.

11:45PM

2007-11-11T23:52:00.001-05:00

He did not appear at 2:15PM. Instead he called me at 11:00PM. At 11:45PM here I sit calling out to God on his behalf. I pray that he will be lifted up. I pray that he will seek the treatment that he needs. I pray that he will return to his family. I pray that the next time I hear from him again is months from now and then he sounds much better.

This is my prayer, oh Lord.

He was hours late but I pray that he will be delivered in time.

2:15PM

2007-11-11T00:43:00.000-05:00

His fingers looked like he had been kneading tar. They were dark with dirt and residue of something that I couldn’t identify. He looked bad, but most crack addicts do. Beauty is no exception. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look as bad as he did when I last saw him.

He called me earlier today to tell me that he’d finally called home. I was happy about that because the last time we spoke he said that he would never call his family again.

Too bad when he called his mother today he learned that his father had a stroke and is in the hospital. He said that messed with his mind even more. He acknowledged that still didn’t justify him going to get high. Tonight he told me all the things crack addicts tell themselves and others.

He said that this was the end for him.

He said that he was at the bottom.

He said that he knew he was better than what he had become.

While I agree that he was better than what he has come, I don’t know that this is the end for him or that he has reached bottom. I can only pray that this time it is true, that he will put the drugs and the alcohol down and never pick them up again. I can pray that he turn on the inside, turn to God, turn wherever he needs to – anywhere other than the demons that feel good getting you high but in the end leave you in a life so low.

I don’t know why when he called me tonight I answered the phone. I don’t know why I ever answer the phone when he calls. There is something that I see in him.

Yesterday he got his check from doing labor all week. He vowed that he wouldn’t spend it on the wrong thing. He cashed his check. He went to the barbershop and then got two beers. It all went down hill from there. All the money he had on Friday afternoon is now gone. It only took a one night and one day. He is sleeping in an abandon building tonight. I asked was he finding a way to keep himself warm. He told me he was.

All I can do is pray for him. Maybe that’s why I answer the phone when he calls. I think that in some way because he has another person to talk to I could be the answer to one of his prayers. As we ended our conversation I invited him to a meeting. Beauty accepted the invitation. I told him to stand in front of my building at 2:15pm and we could walk there together.

He said that this was the end for him.

He said that he was at the bottom.

He said that he knew he was better than what he had become.

In a few hours I’ll find out.

Comes To Me

2007-11-07T14:09:00.000-05:00

While lying in my bed last night I searched for sleep but could not find it. Before I knew it morning had come and I was up and off to have my monthly breakfast with The Dean. Our meal is always filling and the conversation without fail always leaves me fulfilled. This morning was no different. What was different though was that he spoke a truth that often goes unspoken.
The classic line we feed ourselves and our friends when relationships seem to be going in the opposite direction of which we wish for them to travel or one when one cannot successfully navigate their way to finding a mate is “its not you, its them.” This morning The Dean, good friend that he is said, “it s not them, it is you.” This very notion is what permeated my thoughts throughout the night and kept me from falling asleep. Now here the thought was manifest in the mouth of The Dean.

I have been exploring my failed relationships most romantic, some of pure kinship, and pursuits of them the past few days. In this time of reflection I have begun to examine the men the Universe has called forth in my life and the reason why.

Tides of possibility have ushered to my shores men who were incomplete and broken; The Wiz, the Biz, Prince Charming, the Masseuse, Dominican Tigre, Beauty and most recently Cocoa Conservative. With each of them there was some gapping piece that was missing. In each of them I saw that the gap could be covered and made whole. There is something special that I see or saw in each of them. That something helped lure me to them and desire to hold on to this connection to them, touch it, mold it, understand it and not let go.

It is apparent that they too acknowledged our connection and most certainly my desire to nurture it. They sensed my innate yearning to help and to help heal. They all wanted a healing. Each time I wanted to be the one to shepherd them through it. Each time I did my best. And each time a healing was performed he left whole. He had gotten what he had come for. I, the shaman would be left alone. Hands tired. Soul exhausted. Needing to replenish myself. Hopeful that perhaps the next well man would stay with his caretaker, to take care of me.

So to acknowledge, not judge, what has come to pass so many times before, I must delve deeper and stop asking why these men are attracted to me. They are not whole and use me to help them. The transformational question is now why am I attracted to them. I must ask why I consciously or subconsciously work with the Universe to bring these men to me. Do I have a burning need to be the fixer? Do I ultimately seek to have a power over them? A fictional power that I assert because of what I helped him through. Is it that I take glory in my work and in healing others feel healed, maybe even falsely myself.

I told The Dean this morning that what might be best moving forward is if I just tried to stop picking for myself. But even then, unless some action is taken, something when my thoughts and behaviors were changed, that probably wouldn’t stop them from picking me. There is something about me that must also be healed, transformed and changed. I would draw other men and spirits then closer to me.

My Mistress & I

2007-10-26T17:28:00.000-04:00

I remember when we first kissed. It was in May 1999. I knew that we would one day kiss again but I never thought our relationship would turn into the loving partnership that it has become. I thought then that I was just stealing kisses. Flirting with her. She later courted me and conquered my heart.

For the past six years she and I have grown together. She has influenced my walk, talk, thought, style and made me a better man. In fact she has ushered me into my manhood. I have loved her. She has loved me. We have made love. In the middle of the night, in the earliest of mornings, in the middle of the day I have whispered to her and she has answered loudly. Telling me that this is where I belong. That she was and always will be my first love.

Six years is a long time. Our relationship, like any other has seen its highs and lows over the course of six years. We have had our share of disagreements. We don’t always see eye to eye. We bicker about priorities and where things should go next. But over all, I love her. We have stayed together this long because she offers something to me and while she is older and perhaps, wiser, I have contributed to her growth and development as well. When we sit at the table neither of us leave hungry after eating what the other has brought. She and I push back from the table stuffed and full.

Our relationship works. But like any other living man there have been occasions when my eyes have wandered. So has my mind. So has my body. So has my heart. Never too far for too long, but it has.

There is a woman from many years ago, long before 1999. I’d fantasized about her while growing up. I was this little boy in Cleveland, staring at the stars at night, falling asleep, dreaming about this saucy woman I’d never met. She was thousands of miles away. I had only seen her in pictures. Then in high school I met her. She was everything I thought she would be and more. I vowed that I would come of age and marry her. We would be together forever. Yet, that marriage hasn’t come to pass. Instead, for six years now I have been married to another woman and seeing her on the side.

She is my mistress. She is my mistress and she ain’t like my old lady. There is something different about her. I suppose that is why after all these years she is still so exciting to me. She is the word.

My old lady moves slowly with solid, commanding ease and uprightness. My mistress moves swiftly with sophistication and attitude, every now and then jerking her body in a manner that appears to be abrupt with no reason. Then she laughs, turns and pivots to let you know that her movement wasn’t unintentional, to the contrary she did it purposefully to remind us all again that she is always in control.

When I am inside of her, my mistress I feel like a new man, another man. I feel like me, but greater than myself, bigger than I normally am. I am cooler. I am more adventurous. I am faster. I am lighter. I am on the inside and yet I find myself open.

I get my old lady excited. My mistress excites me.

Without fail, when I spend time with my mistress I begin to question why she and I aren’t together. I ask what is it that makes me stay with my old lady when this seductive woman up the road beckons me. I continue not to answer her calls. I ponder how much longer I will be able to resist her. I examine the question, will I abandon the known and steady relationship that I have built with so much invested in it to try to begin anew.

I was with my mistress again last night. Our time together was well spent and delicious. I’m on the train headed home now. I’m going back to my wife and I will kiss her when I get there. Tonight when I lay my head on the pillow I will think about last night though, and hope she doesn’t have any suspicions about what I’m laying there with her thinking about, the other woman. Praying that she is thinking about me.

DC is my wife. New York City is my mistress.

Another Voyage, Another Level

2007-10-17T22:17:00.000-04:00

I have spent the past year of my life on a journey rediscovering who I am. I have touched, tasted, smelt, seen, heard and experienced parts of myself all over again, like a child learning of his senses for the first time. I have reintroduced myself to myself and in turn many others. I have been proud of this quiet voyage that first set sail in the fall of last year. When leafs were changing color, displacing themselves from trees, dying with intent and compassion so, that new life would come. New beautiful green leafs that would bear witness to new seasons and offer man and the rest of the world breath, and in turn life.

I am in transition again. This fall. This autumn season. When I thought that I would rest myself from traveling on this vessel, take comfort on the shore, dry land, if only for just a bit I realize otherwise.

Tears as usual are inside of me. They will not come out but I know they are there. I feel them and at the same time the sorrow and excitement of why they are there now. I know the truth.

Winds are blowing. The sails are set again. My exploration continues.

I know who I am and now I must venture to meet my soul.

Today's Gift

2007-10-14T10:50:00.000-04:00

Simply, because there is a piece of God inside of me, I must also be amazing.

Heavy Happiness

2007-10-14T02:12:00.000-04:00

There is no experience in my life where I can recall that it was hard for me to be happy. Yet, there are moments in life that I can recall, the feeling like the one I just had, where it was hard – if only for a second – to be happy for someone else.

It was not his smile or his face or his exterior. I am certain that it wasn't any of those things. I know for sure that it was his spirit, his warmth and his openness that attracted my soul to his.

With him I wanted to create beautiful words. A forceful piece of nonfiction that wove passion, power and purity together into a cloth that would drape us as our bodies lay in the final resting place of each others arms.

I wanted to build on our connection. Make one drop of water into an ocean. I knew he had the knowledge to call our breath life.

But as hard as it is I must be happy. Happy for him. Happy because he has already found happiness with someone else.

Happy Birthday Love

2007-09-25T09:55:00.000-04:00

I could not have been happier. It was night before my birthday and I was going to meet my idol. For months he is all that I talked about. My idol wrote this. My idol said that. My idol is speaking here. My idol is speaking there. My idol is brilliant. My idol is handsome, strong and has the most beautiful skin. He was Black, gay, out, smart and everything that I loved. He was everything that I wanted to be. The night before my 20th birthday I was going to meet him.

As a gift my boss purchased tickets to attend an event where he would be speaking. At the time it was the best gift she could have ever given me. I spent the week before planning what I would wear and what I would say if I got close enough that he and I would speak. We did.

He was standing right next to us and he, my idol, turned and struck up conversation with us. I was beside myself. The conversation was lovely. I was in heaven. I had met, spoken with and smiled at Keith Boykin. I thought that the night wouldn’t or couldn’t get any better than those few brief moments. At 19 that was huge for me.

Later on that night everyone at the event was corralled in a small auditorium and there was a brief speaking program. Keith spoke and I being the impressionable youth I was rushed for pen and paper so that I could take notes on his every word. He talked about several things but what I will never forget is that he said that all our decisions are based on fear and love. I was inspired by his words. I was inspired by being in the environment that I was in. I felt comfortable in my own skin, in this world. His words and presence came at the right time and the next day I gave myself a present.

On my 20th birthday I came out to my mother. That was a gift. I did it out of love. It was my love for her, for myself and life and truth.

Today on occasion, when I am making decisions I sometimes still find myself asking if I am acting out of fear or love. Sometimes I don’t like my answer. I acknowledge that. Fortunately, the grace of God continually gives me other opportunities to change it. To walk in faith. To live in freedom. To act out of love. I am grateful.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I am going to be 28 years old.

Keith Boykin is no longer my idol but I still like him a lot.

My mother has not only loved me assiduously since the day I was born, but since the day I was reborn in the spirit and then again in myself.

I am choosing and making decisions out of love.

I’m so glad she took me to see my idol. My boyhood crush led to a manhood memory and motivator.

Amazing.

Happy Birthday love.

Happy Birthday me.

Norma(L) Jean

2007-09-15T03:35:00.000-04:00

Since my first introduction to it in the eleventh grade no other poem has spoken to me in the same way. The poem Theme for English B by Langston Hughes resonates with me in my constant cycle of quest and discovery for the commonality that we all recognize as humanity. In the work Hughes takes us to his dorm room in a big city, at a major university, where while he is surrounded by many, in one sense he is alone because he is different. On his journey navigated by his train of consciousness he finally arrives to a place of understanding. He realizes that as much as we may appear to be different, we all share some things in common.

Tonight I reflect on his poem as I think about my own personal evolution and while in just a matter of days this, as in I, 27 year old black man from a poor section of Cleveland who now lives in the nation’s capital, Washington, DC will be turning 28 and how he, as in I have so much in common it seems with a white woman born in Los Angeles in 1926 and died there in 1962.

When I read her words it is almost as if I am listening to myself speak. I hear my voice.

It's often just enough to be with someone. I don't need to touch them. Not even talk. A feeling passes between you both. You're not alone.

There are times when there is no one else around and I long for the presence of someone, just someone to soothe me. Like my departed friend, I believe others rarely recognize this desire that I have. They have created an image of my wholeness for me or they don’t know how to help me fill it so they back away.

People had a habit of looking at me as if I were some kind of mirror instead of a person. They didn't see me, they saw their own lewd thoughts, then they white-masked themselves by calling me the lewd one.

It isn’t that I am viewed as lewd and as much as I am within my own community sometimes seen as less than because of my feminine ways. Masculine gay men and even those who are not watch the beat of my body and listen to the music of my voice and cringe – hating that inside they are the same music, the same movement.

I restore myself when I'm alone.

And so I work on me.

A career is wonderful, but you can't curl up with it on a cold night.

And I just simply work.

Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.

Here in the District.

I want to grow old without facelifts... I want to have the courage to be loyal to the face I've made. Sometimes I think it would be easier to avoid old age, to die young, but then you'd never complete your life, would you? You'd never wholly know you.

Looking ahead and moving forward in my evolution I pray that I continue to get to know me better and find myself more in tune with me and the universe. I daydream sometimes about how I will do this with style and dignity. I wish to be regal with salt and pepper hair.

Imperfection is beauty; madness is genius. And it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.

All the while I want to enjoy this life while I have it. It should be fun. It should be exciting. It should be something that not only I will remember but something for others to remember and do so fondly.

Her third husband, the talented Arthur Miller said of her: "To have survived, she would have had to be either more cynical or even further from reality than she was. Instead, she was a poet on a street corner trying to recite to a crowd pulling at her clothes."

I have feelings too. I am still human. All I want is to be loved, for myself and for my talent.

All I want is to be loved for who I am, just as I am.

Marilyn Monroe and I are quite the uncommon reminders of the truth spoken by Langston Hughes in Theme for English B about our universal commonalities and our connectedness yet indeed we very much are.

Soaked

2007-09-07T01:40:00.000-04:00

Truer words have never been spoken.

He will lead you to the water.

This week.

This day.

This night.

This instant.

He has led me to the water and I have been soaked.

Immersed.

Rejuvenated.

Refreshed.

No matter what great highs I may experience in my life in years to come this first week of September will forever be remembered as a time of newness. In the past week I have left the desk that I have occupied for the last two years and nine months. I am stepping out in my quest to step up my professional growth. I have rehearsed my full script for the last time with my director and in a few hours I will see the playbill printed for the first show that I have ever written, performed in and produced. My words will come alive in front of an audience. I will use my voice and my body as a ship to carry them on a journey. It is my largest body of creative work to date. Today for the first time in my six years in this residence I did not want to rush to clean myself. My spirit told me today that I should not routinely shower. My spirit said sit down. Lean back. Become immersed in the water. Bathe. I waited until dark. I lit my candles. I turn on music. I ran the water. I poured in liquid that would help soothe me and make bubbles. I soaked. I don’t recall my last time feeling this good.

He led me to the water.

This week.

This day.

This night.

This instant.

He has led me to the water and I have been soaked.

Immersed.

Rejuvenated.

Refreshed.

Amen.

I am

2007-08-12T17:21:00.000-04:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Marianne Williamson

For the past several weeks I have been struggling. I have been talking to myself and with myself and I have been asking God for clarity, assurance and affirmation. Several, what it seems like unrelated events in my life over the past couple of weeks have forced me to ask myself questions and come to the conclusion that fundamentally there was only one question to be answered. A question that I don’t know if a lot of folks pour so much thought into all the time. A question that answers so many others. Why is it that people look at me? Why is it that people look to me? Why do tongues speak my name? Why do tongues speak my favor? Why do others wish to rip my spirit? Why do so many sew into my spirit? All of these questions, and any others similar there to go back to the ultimate question – Who am I?

The answer to that simple question can for some be complex. The answer to that question may not yet be available for others. But as God as my witness, I am happy that I not only have an answer but as I continue to grow up and in the Spirit I am becoming more and more comfortable with the answer.

At the core everything revolves around that question and that answer. Who am I?

I am beautiful, intelligent, energetic, a visionary, powerful spirit and a child of God, the most high, the Creator. There is nothing more for me to say. That says it all. That explains everything in my life to date and surely what is to come.

It is so.

I am.

I am beautiful, intelligent, energetic, a visionary, powerful spirit and a child of God, the most high, the Creator.

A Decade of Living

2007-07-20T12:55:00.000-04:00

I am just a few hours away from a series of events that have been on my calendar for ten years. It was in June of 1997 that I graduated high school and it is this weekend that I have returned to Cleveland for my first class reunion. Last night on the plane I looked out the window and saw nothing but darkness. There was nothing there but the sky. I found myself in a quiet and reflective space.

I thought of all the good times I had in high school and all of the bad. But more than experiences I thought about the people that I shared those experiences with. While there is a small collective of friends from high school, some of them actually date back to elementary school, that I meet up with every year on Christmas Eve the vast majority of my classmates I have had no contact with at all since the night we commenced our post high school lives. Over the years I have wondered about some of them. I have wondered where they were and what they were doing. This weekend I anticipate finding out some answers to those questions.

While I pray most things I hear will make me smile. I must catch myself and remember that this is not a time to judge. It isn’t for me to approve or disapprove of someone else’s story to date. I of all people should be more conscious of that. I am very aware of my home community of East Cleveland and I am learning to be respectful of those who remained here. This place is the very springboard from which I began to take flight. What I believe to be what is best and progression is simply that – what I believe.

Inevitably, I thought to myself last night, someone who I haven’t talked to in a decade will ask me what have I been up to over the years. In serenity, I decided that my answer would be: living. It is true. I have been blessed and since the moment my name was called and I walked across the stage to receive my embattled high school diploma I have spent the next ten years living life and learning. It has been incredible and I am extremely grateful for the opportunities that have lent themselves to me on my journey. So, I figure responding by saying living will really be the best way to encapsulate so much.

Tonight I’ll be glad to see and touch those who I haven’t in so long. I hope they’ve all been living in their own way too.

Fading Beauty

2007-07-05T22:38:00.000-04:00

I just saw Beauty. I haven’t seen him in months. He looked good as usual. As a matter of fact he looked better than the last few times I’ve seen him. It’s ironic that I saw him today. Just this afternoon I was talking with O-Canada about my fascination with Black men – nothing fascinates me more than us. I told her that I have always wondered how each of us comes to be. What shapes each of us into the men that we are and ultimately become? We were all just young boys once. Did the boy who became a doctor always know that was his future? Did the soul on the corner pushing drugs or buying them have aspirations to live a street life when he was just a child?

Lord, when I look at Beauty I look in awe just wondering what he could have been like as a young boy. I imagine that he was sought after. I imagine that he was wanted. I imagine that he was well received. I also imagine that there was something about himself, his looks, that he took for granted and something about himself that he was uncomfortable with or didn’t like it. What that is I still don’t know. I’m going back outside tonight. I don’t know where Beauty is headed next. If I see him maybe I’ll ask. Maybe he will have an answer for me or maybe that’s why he is out doing whatever it is he does – because he doesn’t know the answer either. Maybe he is searching for it like I am.

Off and On

2007-06-24T15:11:00.000-04:00

I have a truth that I have dared not speak. It has existed for as long as I could remember but it was not until I matured several years ago that I was able to call it a name. Perhaps I have never spoken about it publicly because I was and at times still find this truth to be uncomfortable and there are times when I may even be ashamed. Something that at times can be so positive and has become a part of my own survival can at other times be seen as negative and false by others. Yet, I continue – maybe because I’ve only lived this way – to let it persist and those who are closest to me watch and engage. I sometimes think it is the ultimate test of who knows me and who knows me not.

Off.

On.

I’ve come to accept the truth that at times my everyday life is performance. One of my favorite literary lovers took a picture of me several weeks ago and sent it to me just a few days ago. I was spellbound by the picture of me. It was unlike any other that I’ve seen of me in quite a long time. I was sitting in a corner on the floor. I was alone in silence. I was listening, watching the world around me and happy with my own little world. I was at peace.

That is a stark contrast to almost any other picture you may find me in. Most photos find me smiling or laughing -- posed. A shine sometimes larger than life. That is how I wish photos to be taken of me. Photos are passed around and seen by everyone and those are the images that create perceptions and that is part of the construction of ClayStarr that I have taken great care to mold and shape. I have been criticized by others for my attempts through pictures, words, placements and actions to ‘brand’ myself but I continue to do it because I believe in the end it is beneficial to take an active role in creating the public image of who I am.

I am not an actor. I am not a model. I am not a politician. I am me and for better or for worse I believe that how you see me should be at least be partly up to me.

In contemplation I’ve come to the conclusion that this has probably impaired my quest for a lover over time. Just last night someone noted that I was ‘being to ClayStarr’ at the local watering hole. I laughed to myself. On one hand he was absolutely right. I was having great fun and no man with little balls would have dared to approach me last night as he would have feared I would have eaten him up and spit him out. Woa is me.

On the other hand I thought about how wrong he was. Truly I was just out having a good time and any man with even small balls and a big brain would understand the difference between a person and his/her persona.

Many people and it is my fault think that I’m only the persona 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. At times that bothers me but I believe that those that know me and care about me the most absolutely can differentiate the person from the persona. They can do so because I have chosen to let them in my most intimate world. For while I fain that I’m open I’m really a private person. I continue to negotiate and walk the fine line with myself of what is and isn’t to be put in front of others and ask myself why or why not. I don’t subscribe to the thought that I do these things out of insecurity. I do them because I don't wish to share myself with everyone.

Deja Vu

2007-06-04T19:54:00.000-04:00

Friday night I was at Halo, not being such of an angel but certainly having a good time. I was dressed down and a lot more casual than I ever am when I tend to frequent the bar. I was in my element. All night long the drinks were flowing, the laughs kept coming and I chatted up two very handsome men.

Smiles is a hot redbone whose pearly whites can light up half the Vegas strip. He was very engaging and sexy in a subtle way. I gave him my number and he said he’d call me Saturday so that we could get together. (note today is Monday I’ve not received said call) The other gentleman was the opposite tone of Smiles.
He was dark like cocoa and his appeal was a little less physical and a lot more mental. Leave it to me to have conversations about politics at a bar on a Friday night. After a suggestion of doing brunch on Sunday I got the Cocoa Conservatives phone number and kept it moving.

Friday night was turning out to be a lot better than Friday afternoon when I finally gave in and called the young man I’ve taken a fancy to that is a student at Howard. He is full of promise yet, Prince Charming hadn’t been in touch with me in days and when I called and got his voicemail on Friday I was feeling a bit like a frog myself.

By Saturday night I had declared that it wasn’t right but it was okay than none of these gentlemen had reached out to me. Sunday morning I made plans to go to brunch with friends. Merriment and mimosas were certainly in order.

Well, while enjoying my time with ATLRed and AQueer a familiar voice was heard at the side of my table and it wasn’t the waiter. Prince Charming happened to be dining out for brunch this Sunday too. He was charming of course and my heart honestly fluttered like a butterfly who just broke out the cocoon – wild and happy to be free. He flirted. I flirted. He said had been busy the past few days and noted we hadn’t seen each other in a week. I noted that he said he was busy. He pardoned himself and 30 seconds later I got a text from him saying it was good to see me. I want to hit him up and ask him when that can happen but I refuse (at least for now anyway). I am a catch and someone ought to catch me. I’m not always going to be the one running and chasing.

Ironically, I did end up running today. Of course, I joined a gym about two months ago and my favorite thing to do is run on the treadmill (because I can simultaneously watch television) but that is not the kind of running I did at the gym today. This evening it was more like run up out the gym rather than run at the gym.

While doing the lifting circuit I noticed the body of a man at the other end of the gym. In my mind I noted he was pleasing to the eyes and figured I’d get a closer look as I switched machines. I did. I got a good look. It was Smiles!

He noticed me and walked over to say hello. He asked if I worked out at the gym at this time frequently and some other idle gym chat. I admit I was flirtatious and batted my eyes as if I’d been trained in doing so by Betty Boop.
I also admit that for some reason seeing him at the gym made me horribly uncomfortable. The thought of he and I also being in the same locker room later made me freak out and as soon as I finished my last set I got the freak out the gym.

The other revelation I had about these gentlemen is that while I was cleaning my apartment Saturday and my mind was crystal clear I realized that I actually met Smiles and Cocoa Conservative a few months ago.

Baby I can't go anywhere ~ Without thinking that you're there~ Seems like
you're everywhere, it's true~ Gotta be having Deja Vu'Cause in my mind I want
you here~ Get on the next plane, I don't care ~ Is it because I'm missing you~
That I'm having Deja Vu

Be. Beyond. Believe. Be.

2007-05-22T02:14:00.000-04:00

In a word I was captivated. The conversation was easy. His manner was steady. My desire to glance at him and into his eyes was not fire but warmth. This was not all laid out in my plan. But for him as I sat next to him engaged in his past, present and future tense I would be willing to perhaps lay it all out on the line.

When I invited him over I was unsure of two things. First, if I truly wanted his company. Second if there was something deep down inside of me that also wanted him. Before the night, which led to the early morning was overI knew that for one I did myself a great service and received a great pleasure by enjoying his company for the evening. I also knew I wanted to see him again. The next time I wanted to touch him more. I wanted to hear and listen to him more. I wanted to look at him more. Simply, I wanted more. Throughout the night he spoke of his insatiable thirst for the world and my tongue lay wet on my palette thirsty for the taste of him. Or so it seems to be to me.

I am his elder and for me that is quite unusual. Nearly always, with the exception of once or twice, the man in the window of my gaze is much older or just a hair above my age. He is not the usual and for that I am intrigued, curious and frankly open. I am open to the possibility of would could and could not be. I am open to the what if and what will be. My heart just as tender as his youth.

We have hugged and told each other good night. I closed the door to my apartment and now wonder should I open the door to something invaluable, my heart. I want to this I know. Should I – there lies the uncertainty.

Voices in my head are speaking to me. Overwhelming are those that say one day at a time. Loud is the chant of the Two Spirited chorus who sings to me the word go. Hard is the tone of a friend’s voice that speaks the truth of introduction. He informs me to be sure in the establishment of each relationship you espouse who you are and what you want to be. Yet scrolling against all that is the chorus of who is he and what is he to you.

This may be a time. This may be a step. While I listened to him I heard what he needed. I heard what he desired. I also wondered if I could be both of those things wrapped up in one. I very well could be what he wants me to be and he to I. In order for me to pursue that I must also then decide. Ultimately, I will be no longer allowing myself to be placed in one category when I am and wish to be beyond all boxes.

Be. Beyond. Believe. Be.

These days. . .

2007-04-11T22:33:00.001-04:00

The other day a friend called me self serving. Initially, I was taken aback and not because I was offended. Love it or hate it, unless you live in New Jersey of course, we no longer live in a full service society. If you want a fill up you have to do it yourself. If you want something you have to get it the best and most efficient and practical way you know how. These days I’m going for mine.

Friday night I went to a bar. Saturday night I went to two parties. I gave my number to several men. I’ve not heard from any of them yet. These days I don’t put as much care into giving out my number or worrying if he will call or not. I figure at the end of the day that those who have a taste for things in a little blue box will call me. Those who have taste for things on blue light special will not. And that is okay.

Yesterday I took another step in being financially prepared for my future. Prior to making the transaction I sat in the bank and the advisor went on and on about the benefits of letting your money work for you. These days I am feeling like a responsible adult who understands that while tomorrow may not be promised we owe it to ourselves to make the possibility of it promising.

Tonight I road the Metro home from work and saw a man in a service uniform. His jacket noted that he was a ‘certified lubrication technician.’ I snickered to myself. These days I am reminded that while I am an adult I am allowed to have childish and playful moments.

Today I looked at a box of twinkies and a bowl of bananas. I chose to go with a banana for my afternoon snack. These days I am eating healthier and trying to take better care of my body.

These days I am growing, living and loving myself.

From Here to There

2007-03-20T01:02:00.001-04:00

In the past nine days I have spent time in New York City, traveled back home to Washington, DC and then left there after only a few hours really to head west for a several days here in Los Angeles. In so little time I have traveled thousands of miles getting from here to there. From one place to another, from one point to another.

Why aren’t all things so clear as to how to get from one place to another I wonder. Though, I do realize that there is beauty and learning in figuring out just how to maneuver from place to place, from point to point, from one level of maturity and understanding to another.

I realize there is also at times sadness. Earlier this year the unthinkable happened to one of my closest friends in New York. His mom passed away. Then last week I got a call that another friend of mine who I’ve grown to love so dearly had experienced the same unexpected loss of his mother. In a matter of one phone call his entire life had changed. His outlook on life will never be as it was before he received that phone call and his level of maturity will continue to evolve rapidly over the next few weeks as he sorts out the legal pieces as being executor of her last will and testament. He is only twenty-five. To the universe he is still a baby himself. A baby that has now been propelled into toddling rather he was ready or not. This is experience will shape him. It will direct him on his road from here to there. God will bless him on his journey.

With most things I find myself to be at peace in life. For those areas that I don’t find that peace I have made the agreement to do something to help find that peace. I have read, I have heard, I have learned and I do believe that finding the peace that I am seeking means I have to make an extra effort to focus, to pray, to remain positive and to be diligent. This is how I will ultimately get from here, which isn’t a bad place at all, to there, the place I want to be. And then once I arrive there, I will began to create the healthy image of where I wish to be next. There must be an emphasis on the word I. It is about me. No comparison to others. No me wanting for others what they do not yet wish to want for themselves. In that vain, I have arrived at the place where I am grasping the token that I can want and pray better for others but the definition of better is still for them to decide.

I will close my eyes tonight. I will affirm myself to myself as my head rests on the pillow. No doubt I will be contemplating more, but not harder than I should the flow of the Universe on how I get from here to there. Our thoughts do become our prayers.

The Scoop on Tim Hardaway

2007-02-24T05:46:00.000-05:00

It is not a holiday, and I certainly don’t know when his birthday is but I would like to purchase a gift for Mr. Tim Hardaway. That gift would be a small piece of advice. Right now, as Mr. Hardaway continues to dig himself into a deeper ditch he could certainly use it.

Weeks ago when I heard the comments Mr. Hardaway made about hating gay people I thought his statements were ignorant, offensive and above all reckless. Since his initial unveiling of his honesty as it relates to homosexuality and homosexuals he has publicly apologized for his words but never his feelings. He is very clear that he is truly not sorry for the intent of what he said. He is sorry that people heard him.

As a public figure with an image to maintain it is not at all acceptable to speak words of hate and it should not be tolerated. On a basic human level it is also reprehensible. Some comments are better kept to yourself. You don’t even have to read a book to know that, somewhere along the way everyone has heard the adage that if you don’t have anything nice to say – don’t say anything at all. That is the advice I would offer Mr. Hardaway.

While some time has passed and the initial shock factor of what Mr. Hardaway said has worn off a bit and I’ve seen less and less about it on television and online newspapers I have been granted the opportunity by espn.com to become completely disgusted and deeply disturbed all over again by more comments made by him in a more recent espn.com interview.

Why am I disturbed? Mr. Hardaway says, “I have to walk on eggshells. Not knowing what to expect from people. Not sleeping at night because of what someone may do. Staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning thinking that someone may jump my fence and set my house on fire. Or someone try to break in and hurt us. We just went to the movies the other day and that's what I had running through my mind, how were people going to react? "Is someone going to do something real, real, real crazy to one of us?" I have no idea what people may do. And I'm going to have to be that way for a long time now, because you never know. You never know.”

Mr. Hardaway you are not the victim! The victims are young boys and girls who heard your initial comments and because you are a former professional basketball player think that they too now have permission to hate a group of people. The victims are young boys and girls who are gay, lesbian, bisexual and questioning who go to school with the other children you intentionally or unintentionally through your words and behavior gave permission to pick on, bully and intimidate their classmates.

Mr. Hardaway the victims are gays and lesbians and people who are perceived as gays and lesbians who every day of their lives are stereotyped, persecuted, discriminated against and physically, mentally abused. If you think you are afraid of someone doing harm to you or your family because of what you said just imagine what gays and lesbians feel like and have felt like their entire lives being afraid to simply love someone else.

I am overwhelmed by your unmitigated gall and audacity to talk about how you don’t know what someone may do to you and that you will have to be on the look out for a long time now. People who live their lives for and to their best without saying a word about anyone but are ridiculed for simply living their lives, those gay people you stay away from, are attacked daily with words, sticks and stones. Those are the people who have to be on the look out.

Call the mother of Michael Sandy and tell her that you have to be on the look out Mr. Hardaway. Call the mother of Tyra Hunter and tell her that you have to be on the look out Mr. Hardaway. Call the mother of JR Warren and tell her that you have to be on the look out. Call the mother of Matthew Shepard and tell her that you have to be on the look our Mr. Hardaway.

Your words reinforced to millions of people, particularly young people who are most often influenced by celebrity athletes that there isn’t a need for tolerance. The further comments by Mr. Hardaway suggest that we can all live in a society in which we just go around hating people and living our lives in a bubble and never connect with people who aren’t like us. What a sad and ignorant existence that would be.

My plea now is that Mr. Hardaway will just stop speaking. Please. Just don’t speak publicly anymore. It seems as if he has ruined his reputation already and if he continues talking it will only get worse for him and those listening.

The Greatest Story Yet To Be Told

2007-02-13T23:36:00.000-05:00

When I first heard the lyrics I was completely swept away. I went from sitting down to being suspended in air. I was so caught up in the words and the beauty and desire I heard in them. She sang, "I want you to be a story for me that I could believe in forever." What story could be more real and powerful than that I wondered. What tale could someone believe in forever?

As children we are told stories about Easter bunnies, Tooth Fairies and Santa Claus. We are told these stories because adults wanted us to believe in something magical and whimsical. They wanted us to believe as long as we possibly could that there was something special out there that was bigger than us, but smaller than God. They wanted us to believe that there was this being that if we were good, honest and true little boys and girls would reward us with delight. But then as we grew older we learned the truth. Those stories were just those, stories.

But then as we mature we learn that there is a lover. A lover whose life can be intertwined with yours. A lover whose life when it merges with yours becomes a new story for the both of you. A story that you can believe in forever. Today, I still believe in the story of love. I still believe in my lover. I believe that he and I will one day write and live the greatest love story ever told. In our story, I will believe in forever.

Time to Get Suited Up

2007-01-29T23:07:00.000-05:00

Him never did call. Him never sent an email either. I suppose I’ve had about enough of him – though I never really had any of him at all. But that is not all that I think I’ve had enough of.

Yesterday I went on a date with a guy I met about a week ago. He is extremely genuine and there are numerous other qualities about him that I admire. On paper and in person he is the kind of guy that I could fall in love with no doubt. I think I’ll call him Authentic because that is what he presents. Now, Authentic and I had a good time at brunch yesterday. After brunch he and I strolled to my favorite card and stationary boutique. We parted ways. He went to visit a friend and I headed to Elm Street to watch Little Miss Sunshine with Go Blue. Later in the evening I checked my email and Authentic had sent me a short note thanking me for brunch. I replied that I enjoyed his company and wouldn’t mind doing so again.

Fast forward to today. Some say I was too forward. Some say I asked early, which is right on time. This afternoon I decided to stick my rod in and gauge the oil. I flat out asked Authentic if he thought that he would be open to a relationship in the near future. Of course I wasn’t asking him to be my boyfriend and share the rest of my life with me after one date but I was asking about his openness. Last year in my dealings with The Wiz and The Biz I learned that expectations should be established up front.

As crass or cold as it may sound the truth is that I have friends, many friends and more than a handful of associates. I am not on a search for either of the aforementioned. What I do not have and truly do want is a relationship. Am I desperate? I don’t think so. Am I clear about what I want? Absolutely.

I have slacks. I have shirts. I have ties. I have blazers. I have sweaters. I have jeans. All the separates – I got those. I want whole suite now! I want the full kit and caboodle. Enough of the pieces -- it is time that I have the whole thing.

Introducing Him

2007-01-19T22:52:00.000-05:00

Tonight I saw him. At first I didn’t even know it was him but when I realized who it was my heart skipped a beat but my thought pattern did not. This was the time. For if the Universe had granted me this opportunity once more to hold this handful of jewels in my hand I would not allow them to slip through my fingers again.

While the work week had only been four days it felt like the regular five. Friday had come and I was delighted with clear canvass of the weekend. Two days to do what I want when I wanted even if that was nothing at all. I basked in the glory of freedom to come. Late into the afternoon I decided to send a few messages to brother friends of mine to inquire if they would like to join me for a drink at my favorite martini bar. I thought it would be a nice way to cap off the week – with a night cap.

Two agreed, I made three and that made enough for a full fledged plan. Immediately after I wrapped up my last project for the day I wrapped myself in the black scarf my mother gave me for Christmas, my UK coat and crowned myself with my beloved winter black hat. I dashed to the train and the weekend began.

When I arrived at the bar I walked straight to the bar in the back. Having not seen either of my invited guests I figured it would be the best place for me to settle in while I awaited their arrival. Then a hand appeared. I saw the face to whom it belonged and the grip was soon to follow. He is a good brother. A brother I haven’t seen in some time but always bring a smile and sense of fraternity with him. He was there with his wife and a few of his friends. One of them I knew. The other walked up to us and in his eyes I lost myself. He was the man who I’d always wanted to know.

We shared a dance in white three or four summers ago. From then on I we would pass each other like trains in the night. Three times we had crossed paths but not been able to connect. Three times I had told the story of the chocolate man to whom I wanted to surrender but before I could find my white handkerchief he was gone. Tonight we finally connected. In a safe space with no rushing, no pretense surrounding us there was time for a formal introduction. His smile is as I always remember it. His skin as chocolate as I’ve always wanted to indulge. We talked.

I slid him my calling card. Now the question is will he be calling. I certainly would answer. And what lay beneath that is that this morning someone called to share with me that he’d prayed for me. Wouldn’t it be something if God answered his prayer.

Expect the Unexpected

2007-01-17T23:31:00.000-05:00

With each kiss of his lips I tasted the flesh of the world. It was delicious. He rubbed my back. I found myself enveloped in his legs and his torso silently gave me directions on where to go next. My bedroom was dark with the exception of the caramel scented candle that flickered on my nightstand.

When it was all over I outlined his body with my tongue and then my finger. Retracing the places I had gone. With his body resting on his back I moved closer to him and gently played his inner thigh and leg like a guitar. At last I rested my head on his chest. There we were man to man.

I have known him for years but never have we spent such time alone, just the two of us. Never had he pulled me so close. Never until tonight had he kissed me. I don’t know that I ever thought he would. But it is those things in life that we don’t expect that we should.

Your My Dream

2006-12-26T02:10:00.000-05:00

It began with me listening to a compact disc in a car on my way to Philadelphia in August 2004. My fraternity brother and I were driving to a conference for the weekend and his choice of riding music was the cast recording of a Broadway musical that he’d love for many years and that I’d only heard about through its scores ever presence, not even the whole score but really one song that stood out above all others. When he placed the disc in the player and the car began to move so did I. Along with the car and the conversation and the disc I began to move down a road as well. By the time we’d completed our two hour journey to the City of Brotherly love I had fallen in love.

I was in love with a musical that I’d never seen performed. That didn’t matter at all. Through the words and the music I had created every nuance of the show in my head. In my mind I saw how the curtain rose and the final bows of every principle and every ensemble member of the company. It was real to me.

From then on I wanted to know everything there was to know about how the show came to be and why. I craved the living history of the musical that was living history. While some of the characters seemed at times larger than life, as there voices were all the time, in very fine ways I was able to connect with them. I loved them as if they were my own and because I knew that on different scales and in different times and in different situations I was them. I knew that ultimately humanity is something sans different. Humanity is common. Our emotions, our desires, our quests, our needs, our touches, we are linked by them. They are our common strands of thread that weave us together.

Tonight, on this Christmas night I saw with my open eyes images, persons, props, things, to correlate with the words and music I’ve become so familiar with. Aziza and I walked into a theater in an almost haste to find seats side by side as we were the night of our high school graduation nearly ten years ago. We were to share in an experience.

In the beginning, I was sitting in a chair in a dark sold out theater surrounded by strangers and saddled with friendship familiarity. But just after the Earthly space around me grew darker and I saw a burst of blue light adorn what was once a naked white screen I found myself, at least my mind and spirit, in another space and place. My body was here but so much of me was somewhere else.

It was as if with every frame I was lifted further and further up and out into another orbit. One occupied with an unnamable energy. I was captivated. I felt their language. When they spoke and sang at moments I felt they had taken the words from my mouth and feelings from heart and strength from my body to produce this. To learn, to love, to lead. To feel, to fail to be free. To dare, to defy, to dream.

This evening was much more than I thought it would be. It was reaffirmation. It was uplifting. It was reality and even better it was a dream that became a reality.

Negotiating

2006-12-11T21:10:00.000-05:00

Reflecting on the conversation I had last night with my sister and brother I was drawn to the dictionary. One word has been resonating with me since our discussion. Negotiate.

The online dictionary offers one definition of the word as being: to move through, around, or over in a satisfactory manner. Indeed last night our three-way phone call was an example of negotiating on multiple levels.

As has been the case for many important birthdays, Christmas’s and milestones, my sister first called me and then she requested I call my brother so that we could decide collectively what we’d be getting our mother as a gift. With three very distinct personalities and tastes it has always been a large feat for us to agree on one gift. There have been several occasions when we decided not to do a group gift because of our varied opinions.

My sister put forth one good idea and several that I didn’t like at all. All of her ideas were certainly practical and well meaning. My brother had no suggestion. My idea was immediately shot down. I wanted to duplicate my last birthday gift for my mother. I wanted to get her something that she wouldn’t normally purchase for herself, several tickets to theater performances stretched out for the next several months. My suggestion was met with much skepticism. This was partly because of geographic location and also due in part to personal beliefs and where each of us finds value.

After several more minutes of back and forth we’d come to a satisfactory agreement. With a tag that says “To: Ma ~ From: Queen J, Jimmy Jam and ClayStarr” there will be a package nestled under the Christmas tree this year.

On another level the negotiation of the gift was another reminder that the world that I have created for myself over the past several years is far from the world that I lived in when I was growing up which is to a great degree the reality for my siblings. Respectfully navigating my way through both waters at times triggers a different type of negotiating for me. Not only am I doing my usual asking others to meet me where I am but me working and being cognizant that I should meet others where they are. There are times when I am interacting with people, not just my brother and sister, but people all around me, and we are in different places and spaces.

That is when the negotiation takes places. I must move in, through and sometimes around in places and spaces to reach that in between. It is the point where we all connect. Last night it was that each of us cares deeply for our mother and wanted to express that love through a physical gift and we know that she enjoys when she sees us come together.

Dear Brother

2006-12-04T12:30:00.000-05:00

Dear Brother,

This morning as I was dressing for work I looked in the mirror and a radiant energy illuminated all around me. I was wearing my black suit, a crisp white shirt and a gold neck tie. It was a proud moment. I was dressed in traditional Alpha wear and I knew today was a special day in the history of our organization, a significant day in the history of our people.

All was well with me in that moment. I then began moving about my apartment as I normally do. When I stepped near my door and bowed my head and lifted my hands for my typical morning prayer I became overwhelmed. I started off thanking God for the journey into the brotherhood. I thanked him for the seven Jewels who with great vision founded our organization 100 years ago today. And just as water cascades down falls with elegant force and without effort the names of other Brothers who have in their own right been jewels to me over the last six years came pouring out. Men. Brothers. Friends. You.

I am thankful to God for opening the door of Alpha to me. I am thankful I met you in this great House. My dearest Brothers, it was you who stood for me when others were against me. It was you who stood next to me when I needed someone by my side. It was you who made me stand when I didn't know that my legs could hold me.

No one knows better than God, the Father, who I thanked today for your being, just what the road to and through Alpha was and is to me. He in his all knowing infinite wisdom made you my Brother and I your Brother for a reason. Vessels for love, understanding, guidance and kindness are we. Reasons, I am grateful.

In some of the darkest places on my path of life you have held out the torch so that I could see and feel the warmth. In times of joy and light you have shared it with me. From the smallest gestures to those of a great overt magnitude, in some way you have been a Jewel to me.

Today I say thank you.

After 100 years our organization and infrastructure continue to strive for enhancement. In the next 100 years I hope for strengthening of the framework. But the heart and soul already beat fiercely and strong. This Brotherhood is what the seven Jewels envisioned. They who saw you before you even saw yourself, as they did the men who will come even after us. What noble men those Jewels were.

I could not let this day go by without acknowledging them or you. You are a Jewel to me and I wish you all the best as we celebrate this Founders' Day and many more to come.

I am always - fraternal,

Brother Clay Starr

Give me a BEAT!

2006-11-18T20:48:00.000-05:00

When I met him several years ago I was immediately fascinated by his career and current position. He was at that time, and still is, the only Black male that I know personally that dances with a professional ballet company. The guys I occasionally see out at the clubs on Saturday night wanted to be what he really was – a ballerina.

The first time I had the pleasure of seeing him on stage was during one of his company’s performances of The Nutcracker. From beginning to end I was in love with the production and with every leap that he took, I felt like I and the rest of the audience was taking it with him. He along with his colleagues, were wonderful dancers and great entertainers.

The next day I called him to tell him how much I enjoyed the show. He seemed happy to accept the compliments but rather unbothered by my breakdown of the night before. After I went on and on for a while he finally stopped me and told me why he wanted to move on to the next stop – which was unusual because he generally loves talking about himself. He told me that as much as he loves dance and as much as he loves to dance professionally, The Nutcracker is his least favorite piece and he hated performing in it year after year. I was dumbfounded. He sure seemed happy as a kid at Christmas on stage to me.

But everything isn’t always as it appears to be.

I asked him how did he get up there night after night and look so jubilant and perform so well when really he would have rather been anywhere but there. He took a small breath and said, “I go to that dressing room. I sit in silence. I focus on the fact that no matter what I feel like doing, I get paid for hopping and twirling on that stage and I’m at work so I’m going to hop and twirl. Then I beat my face and the show goes on.”

For the past few months I think I too have been beating my face and dancing in The Nutcracker. This sugar plum fairy needs to find a more fitting company and piece.

Today makes it more than a week since I cut off all communication with The Wiz. It took me a long time to get to the point where I could do what I knew was best and the healthiest thing for me. I’d wrestled with the disconnect for months, often afraid of what it would be like if we didn’t speak, if our friendship faded. But each day that we grow further apart I feel better and better and like I’m empowering myself. I know that getting rid of what was old brings space and renewed energy for what is good and new. More importantly, the thing that I am most happy about is that the thing that I feared most didn’t occur. He is gone now and my heart is still beating. I keep going on.

I’ve decided to spend just about all of next week and next weekend in New York City. I haven’t had a vacation since early this summer. This time away is much deserved and needed. This Thanksgiving I will be giving thanks for the love of God, family, friends and all that the universe has brought to me and helped me share with others. I also plan to give thanks for the beats the dj’s are going to be bringing at Luke and Leroy’s.

It has been far too long since I’ve had my way with New York clubs, bars and nightlife. It has been even longer since I’ve had my way with a brother from Brooklyn, the Bronx or a real Man from Manhattan. Perhaps next week I will gobble one up in honor of the holiday.

Nothing beats having a good time.

Too Beautiful for Words

2006-10-12T23:14:00.000-04:00

Today was a very good day. I admit that this morning I was on my way to feeling down but the joy of life wouldn’t allow me to. Then tonight on my way home from having dinner and drinks with friends I saw Beauty. I hadn’t seen Beauty in ages but I have been seeing him for years.

I remember the first time I saw Beauty. It was in October or November of 2003 and he was sitting at the bus stop down the street from my apartment building. I was taken aback when he spoke to me. From his outward appearance one wouldn’t immediately suspect that he would lend his friendship to me so easily if at all. Aside from being a little rough around the edges and definitely from around the way – he was beautiful. We only talked for a little bit during our initial meeting. I gave him my phone number. He said he would call and quite some time went by before we saw each other again. He never called.

Since that first encounter he and I have crossed paths once or twice a year. I hadn’t seen him since last November before I saw him tonight.

At first I wasn’t sure if that was him that I saw from across the street. I saw his silhouette that was oh so familiar. I wanted it to be him and as I subtly threw my energy his way he recognized me. I’d gotten what I wanted – his attention for the moment.

His voice called out for me and I continued walking. He started walking behind me. When he was closer I began to talk. I always like talking to Beauty. He is an interesting but not so much a unique man. His life story touches my heart. I am always tempted to – and sometimes I do – touch him. A black man with a story. We all have stories. So comely is my heart I still wish to listen to them. Tonight in his story I drew parallels to the Wiz. He is also beautiful.

But Beauty, he hasn’t quite gotten a handle on maintaining and enhancing his true beauty. I hope he does one day. I made him promise me that he would call. Ironically, he was disappointed in himself tonight for breaking a promise to someone else. Yet, I still made him promise me. As I reflect, I understand I asked him to make that promise to me for me not so much as I wanted him to make it for himself. I don’t know him well at all but I care for him. I hope that one day he can learn to care for himself completely.

He really is beautiful. I want him to know that.

..and the Glory be to God.

2006-10-09T04:22:00.000-04:00

Had I never met him, had I never known him, I do not know if or when I would have ever loved so deeply. Tonight I realize how thankful that I am for the opportunity, perhaps of a lifetime, to get to know the Wiz.

Had I never met him I don’t know that I would have learned so much about life, or love, or even about myself. For the first time tonight I closed my eyes and told the Creator thank you for bringing the Wiz into my life. For the first time tonight it clicked for me. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I stuttered. My lips trembled and I told the Wiz himself. I told him that I was thankful to him and for him.

I learned so much about love. I know today that I have been in love. I love the Wiz so deeply and I know that I love him because I know that I have to let him go. Real love.

He is phine. He is beautiful. He is a gorgeous man. At first glance. But I know him and I know that his outer beauty is only an exterior barrier. On the inside he is bruised, beaten, scarred and tight, tied in knots. His pain is on the inside. I have been in there and I have seen it with my own eyes.

As I write this, I hurt. I hurt because I know that although he is trying to heal himself that he still hurts in places that I can't imagine and I don’t want him to hurt any longer. I want him to be completely whole, healthy, happy and well. These things I want for him so badly. I see him. I see a man that I just want to be lifted up.

Tonight I lifted him up in my petitions. I stood on the corner, outside a church, next to a tree, in the dark and stopped in my tracks and prayed his spirit be protected and his life transformed. And this, I did not do alone. I knew I couldn’t do this one alone and I had to call another true believer. She believes in God and she believes in me. She has seen hurt men before and I was hoping that she would believe in my friend too. I was afraid because I had never asked her for anything like this before but she said she would and we prayed. I prayed. My mother prayed. I lifted my voice so that Jesus would lift. She elevated him in her prayer so that God, the Father, the Creator, the Holy Ghost would elevate him too. Take him to another level. Take him higher. Take him to where he is meant to be and Lord, please, please Lord, keep him on his journey.

I love him so deeply that I must let go and let God.

Months have past and even some of my dearest friends have told me to move on, they have asked why do I remain his friend. I realize now the answer. Because it ain’t all about me and what I want and what I need and what I desire and because there are days when I pray and I ask God to continue to use me as a vessel to show others his love. That is why. And even the Wiz needs someone to love him. Not as a lover but as a friend.

He has helped me to grow in ways that others have not. He has challenged me to challenge myself. To him I have given much. Much in a different way he has also given to me. I can see for myself. And my God, I can also see that which I believe so few others have ever seen and that is him. God bless him on his journey. Come what may.

God bless me.

Now, I have felt it on my own skin.

And let the voice at the beginning and the end say to God be the glory.

26 Life Lessons

2006-09-21T01:42:00.000-04:00

Fifty one weeks and one day ago God allowed me to begin another year of life. Tonight I visited a dear friend of mine and we began talking about life and how much has changed and not changed in our lives since the last time she and I were together. I thought so much about what has happened since my last birthday. I have learned a lot since I turned 26.

I have learned….

…that an ocean is a spiritual place.
..that if my back is against the wall that I will push forward.
…that it is not always about me.
…that no matter how much I may love someone that they may not love me back.
…that I do want to have a relationship with my grandmother.
…that I want to learn more about my fathers side of the family.
…that my love is good.
…that love can be painful.
…that love can be wonderful.
…that love is unexplainable.
…that sometimes I do cry, my tears just flow on the inside.
…that I can catch the night bus alone.
…that crime does not pay.
…that I could run for public office.
...that I have not overcome all of the insecurities that I thought I had.
…that I must cherish my friends more.
…that those that really know me, really do.
…that I can talk about sex openly and honestly with my brother.
…that one kiss can change my life.
…that I am not the only one.
…that I can say no.
…that I am still a writer.
…that there is still hope.
…that influence is transferable.
…that I have grown up a lot.
...that I have a lot more growing and learning to do.

Tuesday will begin another set of lessons.

A Reason for the Season

2006-09-13T07:50:00.000-04:00

I can tell that the season is starting to change. Literally, I can feel it in my body. The days are getting shorter yet feeling longer than before. The temperature is falling. Soon leafs will be too. Autumn is in the air. I wonder what that means for me.

For so many years now my life has cycled in a pattern with the four seasons. Since high school autumn has been the season in which I have been faced with a serious question or challenge. It is in this season that I have done like the trees and let go of old things so that I could sustain myself and prepare for new growth. There was the autumn in which folks disappointed me, school was not an option. There was the autumn in which I was chosen to stand in the middle for the good of the order. The autumn when I was taught and then asked to teach in unreasonable circumstances that there are times when must go along to get along. The autumn in which I learned the meaning of grace and endurance and at the end of that season I was so duly rewarded. But it took sleepless nights, hard work and prayer to get there. Examples are abundant. Autumn is upon us.

I recall two years ago on my birthday, September 26 I was sitting down and as easy as a baby coos I looked across a great hall into the eyes of a woman and said to myself that that she would deliver the next great question, the next challenge. Nearly one month later she called me into a room and she did. Perhaps, because my spirit had prepared me I was not so taken aback. I rose to the occasion, answered the question and because of a power greater than myself stood in victory. That is the thing. I believe that this cycle I go through is all done under the watchful eye and guiding hand of God. It is part of his plan. I couldn’t create one so perfect.

This year, I have had a grumbling in my belly, one that says that I will be forced to choose between two ideas. Neither of them is right or wrong. It is simply one choice, one choice that could affect the rest of my life. It is that time.

Hope in the Unseen

2006-09-11T22:13:00.000-04:00

I am thankful that at the beginning of every day and at the end of every night God blesses me with hope.

Time

2006-09-08T10:59:00.000-04:00

Timing is everything.

One of my favorite times of year in DC is the week of the Congressional Black Caucus Annual Legislative Conference. My beautiful people come to Washington from across the country to share information, best practices and empower each other to go back and make a positive impact on their communities. I love it. I also love that the week is full of receptions and parties. The fun that is had when the dignified leave the Convention Center and Capitol Hill for the day to get their get down on at night is unreal.

This year I had two invites to receptions and one invite to a soul food lunch hosted by my congresswoman. But that was not enough. I wanted to go to the emerging leaders party held on the Thursday of ALC week. But I had no ticket. I spent most of Wednesday afternoon calling, emailing and sending text messages to everyone I could think of who could get me a ticket. At the end of the day I came up with nothing.

Then it happened.

Yesterday I had a 9AM appointment with my barber. I was running late but when I got to the Metro stop I stepped off the escalator and a train was right there. I had to transfer a few stops later and usually I have a long wait. Not yesterday. The transfer train came in two minutes. I was really moving. It was a good morning.

I was a block away from the barbershop when I heard a good morning from across the street. It was a friend from Capitol Hill who happens to go to the same barber that I go to and he was leaving his 8:30AM.

Him: Good to see you.
Me: Better to see you.
Him: Are you going to be out and about tonight?
Me: Well, I have two receptions. I always do the frat thing and then there is a young professional group having something I’m going to breeze through. If I had my way I’d be blowing through the Black Party.
Him: Why don’t you?
Me: No ticket.
Him: No problem.

He got two tickets for AQueer and I. Once we got there another friend made sure that we didn’t have to use the tickets to get in or stand in the line. Being from EC AQueer also turned two drink tickets into four.

That is how it happened. Timing was just right.

And last night on the dance floor at the Black Party I had a great time. These are the times we live for and at 3:30AM it was time to go to bed.

Mr. Nice Guy

2006-09-02T20:42:00.000-04:00

Yesterday morning AQueer had some dental work done so I spent my evening with him as he tried to recuperate. He took codeine and I drank cocktails. We were a perfect pair. AQueer and I hadn’t had a slumber party in some time and I think it was just what the both of us needed. It had been a good but at times emotionally pulling week. As I sipped on a martini while we were watching MTV I saw a photo of Nelly that sent me into a Sex and the City stream of consciousness. Nelly spit the rhyme – what does it take to be number one? Two is not a winner and three no one remembers. Carrie Bradshaw once pondered the age old question – do nice guys finish last? All of this hip hop and heart got me to thinking about my most recent past.

To the Wiz, I gave my everything. I was a good friend, a good listener, a good everything you can imagine. In my best efforts to treat him differently than all the other men that had done him wrong, I allowed him to inevitably treat me the same way I vowed never to be treated by anyone else. I was the nice guy.

In relation to the Biz, I wanted to be his friend at the very least. I know he is coming out of a relationship right now. While I know there are some vultures that would fly down for the attack I’d resigned to sit back and be patient. He and I chatted the other night and he abruptly logged off. I sent him an email. It was most sincere. He opened and did not reply. He is out of the country on business so I can’t reach out to him via phone. Maybe I should have left well enough alone. But I think he is cool and after all, I’m nice.

Even crazier, while at my desk yesterday morning my cell phone rang and I had to blink several times and wipe my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing the screen with distorted vision. Fresh Rain was calling. He hasn’t called me in over a year. During our 2.5 hour conversation we caught up on each others lives. He even filled me in on the origins of his current relationship. I thought that he had gotten back with his ex. I was wrong. He is in fact in a relationship with a guy that he started really talking to around the same time he met me in the spring of last year. Get this. He said that he was digging me but the other guy was more aggressive. Silly me. I was trying to court. I was trying to move a bit slow because I knew he’d just gotten out of a relationship and said that he wasn’t really looking for one immediately. Nice me.

I could go on.

Fresh Rain asked me why I was single. He said he didn’t understand it. Later on in the day I talked to the Bayou2Boston and he asked the same question and said he didn’t understand this unexplained phenomena either. At least we are all on the same page. I think that I’ve come to a point in my life where at least once a week someone that I am asked if I am single and then looked at like I’ve told them that the Statue of Liberty has disappeared when I tell them I am. Maybe there is a guy out there who wants to be in a relationship with me and David Copperfield has pulled one of his tricks and has him hidden somewhere. That is far fetched but might be the answer I give to the next person that asks me. They will ask and I will say yes. Then they will ask why and I will say its part of a TV Special. It sounds more fun than my traditional, “I don’t know.”

But what I do know is that in my heart of hearts I still want to keep holding on to the belief that nice guys don’t finish last. Do they?

I've Known Rivers

2006-09-01T11:23:00.000-04:00

When I woke up there was something different about me. I couldn’t tell what it was though. I was just in a unique mental space. I was at peace yet I had a yearning I could not explain. I rolled out of my bed and immediately went to my bookshelf. It is my favorite book but not one that I have picked up in some time -The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes. I had to touch it, feel it and read the very first poem in it aloud. There was a connection. The words rolled off my tongue slow and smooth like fresh dew falling to the Earth.

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world
and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I read the poem in its entirety, closed my eyes and placed the book back on the shelf. I’d satisfied that longing. I was no longer thirsty.

My day went on as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Around midnight I laid my head down to rest. Sleep. I fell asleep easy. A few hours into my slumber my phone rang. It was Langston. It was about 11PM his time and 2AM my time. This wasn’t so unusual. He and I have shared many wonderful talks at this hour. But this was something different.

Langston was singing. He was feeling some kind of way. I couldn’t put my finger on it so I just kept the conversation going. He would talk. I would respond. He would sing. I would listen. He seemed restless, my dear Langston. He said that he had to go. I whispered a sweet good night.

Then last night while I was laying on my loveseat thinking about thinking about the world and absolutely nothing at the same time I got a text message. Langston wrote: Thank you for last night. I replied: Our friendship means more to me than you know. Thank you. He wrote back: Make sure I know before we leave here.

I think that explained my morning the previous day. My need to touch the book. My need to read those words. My need to connect with the world’s Langston Hughes. It was around the same time in the universal time frame that my Langston needed to touch me. To hear my words.

Our friendship means so much to me. It flows on its own.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

What A Day

2006-08-21T23:00:00.000-04:00

My, what a day today has been for me. This morning as I dressed for work and made my way toward the Metro station I constructed in my mind the letter I’d write and send. I have given my time, energy, sweat, money and whatever else you can think of over the past several years to Black Magic and today I would be the day that I would let go and let others love her, hopefully as much as I did. The past four years I have been so deeply intertwined with all things Black Magic it was a hard decision to make to say goodbye. But after prayer, thought and meditation I knew it was time. It has been incredible and the last few months as the head sorcerer have taught me a lot about others and my own character. I would not trade these years, these experiences and memories for the world. They have helped create the Black man that I am today. These four years really have been magical. And I believe that the best is yet to come.

My, what a day today has been for me. I don’t know why, it is a date that I stopped marking on my calendar a few years ago, but today it came back to me. This is the day in 1999 that I made a phone call that altered my life. I knew when I made the call that I had no control over what the woman on the other end would say to me, only my reaction to whatever it was that she would say. She delivered disappointing news. News I didn’t want to hear. News I didn’t want to be true. I hung up the phone, told my mother what the woman said and grabbed my keys. My mother knew I was devastated. She also knew that there was nothing she could do. Ironically, I left the house and went to a KKK rally. I had volunteered to work as a legal observer for the ACLU. I was a gay black 19 year old combing a Klan rally to make sure that the police department didn’t infringe on their rights. The irony was thick and my feelings thin. I survived the rest of the day and so did the rally. Late that night I wondered was life itself worth surviving for. What I had invested in and thought was my complete identity was gone at least that’s what the woman on the phone told me that morning. I questioned what else I had to live for. God answered me, he said life. Life is worth living and so I do. And I believe that the best is yet to come.

The Daily Decision

2006-08-02T10:19:00.000-04:00

All at once it can be both a great privilege and a heavy burden; the burden is choice. Not only when we first wake up in the morning are we given this ultimate choice, it is put before us several times, perhaps hundreds of times in any given day. It is the choice of deciding of the numerous things we could be, who do we want to be.

Wiz | Biz

2006-07-23T15:21:00.000-04:00

The Bible tells the story of a man named Saul. We read his story, learn of his life and his character and as the story goes, we see a change in him. He changes his thoughts, which change his actions and eventually his life and most certainly his character. His name also changes. He is Paul.

Over the past several weeks, months really, I have struggled with my feelings and my relationship with The Wiz. My brain has followed its usual course of action and moved along much further than my heart when it comes to analyzing our kinship. It is my mind that tells me that a relationship will not exist between the two of us. It is my mind that tells me that we are lacking a common and shared goal which is essential to a fruitful and healthy relationship. It is my mind that tells me in the middle of the night, that he has what I want but not necessarily what I need. My mind tells me that in all situations I must first have my needs satisfied. My brain says those things. My heart wishes to argue but my brain and gut usually win. I wish the struggle were over.

The past two weeks have been the most intense in negotiating my kinship with The Wiz. He is who he is and I am who I am and I am moving closer to even who I want to be. Transition is not always quick and smooth. It takes time I have learned. And yes, I am still learning.

Sometimes when we are learning God and the almighty universe sends us instructors to help get the lesson. He uses others as vessels. Sometimes unexpectedly.

In December 2003 I was introduced to a man whose name was also The Wiz. He was a young professional who took a step back whenever I would attempt to take a step forward. I couldn’t understand his caution. Many times after our initial meeting we would encounter each other here and there. We would make the smallest of small talk and never go too far beyond our surface.

After several years, he emerged in my life in a more personal way, two or three weeks ago. Our conversation this time was much more free-flowing. The surface had been scratched. A week ago he and I saw each other out and about and engaged in a lengthy conversation that I didn’t want to end. For the first time being able to see beyond the careful public shell, I realized that he possessed good yolk.

Since that evening we have enjoyed a few phone conversations and in each I have learned a little more about him. This afternoon we spoke and as he told me stories about past relationships he began speaking to my spirit in a way that he could not have known. In turn helping me to reconcile what is going on between my brain and my heart. His words resonated with me. Need. Self love. Due time. Growth. Prayer. Unseen. Change. Future. God.

This Wiz had a new name. He is The Biz and I am continually thankful for the vessels God sends for whom I can learn.

Moving Forward

2006-07-17T14:40:00.000-04:00

I feel a little hurt
I feel a little pain
But I don’t feel like all the time went down the drain

One thing I have learned from this
I’ve got to remain careful who I kiss

So I suppose its back to the way things used to be
A female rapper said it best –

Bitches pay a fee to fuck with me!

...and they should. I am more than worth it.

Beyond Our Boxes

2006-07-11T00:42:00.000-04:00

Friday night I looked at the stars and wondered how I got to where I was. Somewhere in the heart of Charleston County, West Virginia I was climbing inside of a tent to rest my eyes and bones for the night. It was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of New York City I’d experienced just two days before. In a matter of 72 hours I had sat in the front row of a Broadway production in the capital of the world, New York City, traveled home to the nation’s capital, Washington, DC, to collect my bag and my thoughts in just enough time to link up with friends and strangers to head to West Virginia the center of white water rafting this side of the Mississippi. It would be a very fitting way to end my vacation and time for reflection and rejuvenation.

Months ago Go Blue invited me on this camping and white water rafting trip that he takes with his college buddies every year. When he offered the invitation I thought he was joking but I also knew that I couldn’t refuse. Any time Go Blue and I get together it is fun and I feel like something special happens. Certainly, accepting his offer to partake in this adventure could only lead to good times.

When I first met Go Blue I would have never imagined that he and I would form the friendship that we have. He and I work together and when I began my job I held fast to the belief that my colleagues would remain in that box marked colleague and forever that is where they would stay. Slowly over time his openness and kind spirit attracted me to him as more than a box but as a wonderful human being. That box marked colleague was destroyed so that a friendship could be created.

Go Blue and I share many differences, including sexual orientation, that seems to baffle some folks – why would a straight Black man want to be friends with a poster child for same gender love they question – but the beauty of our friendship is that we are able to answer that question. We are two humans who see beyond the surface and social constructs of what is and what isn’t and we connect.

I met a lot of his very blue college friends this weekend and enjoyed meeting every one of them. Each of them had their own stories to tell yet they were all interwoven with many of the same life trials, tribulations and burning questions about the meaning of life/love and what should we do next that every twenty-something year old in America has. This weekend I was lucky enough to bare witness to others and share my own. It was a beautiful part of nature, equally as beautiful as the stars in the sky, the mountains and trees, the river and the sun.

Stepping outside of my box over the weekend was good for me. I pitched a tent, slept in it, grabbed my paddle and rowed with the best, jumped off a cliff and appreciated God’s country and those who shared it with me. I am glad I stepped outside of my box and that Go Blue challenged me to break down the one I tried to put him in. There is so much outside to experience.

Speak to Me

2006-07-07T05:34:00.000-04:00

When I have given up all hope and think we will never cross paths then I see you. You show yourself just long enough for me to believe again. Then you walk away. You do not linger. You just say, “Hello, I am here.” It seems as if when I moisten my lips to speak back to you it is then that you disappear again. You are here just long enough to say hello, to remind me that you are around and feed my desire to talk to you one day – long into the twilight of my life. You are such a kind stranger. How I wish we could become friends.

Self-Centered Me

2006-07-06T00:29:00.000-04:00

Weeks ago when I decided to take a vacation and time to breath I began coming up with a list of places all around the world where I wanted to travel. I was seeking in these fantastic distant destinations a place where I could relax my mind, body and spirit. I thought to myself, that if I could just get away from this physical space that I would be okay. But as time went on I began to think of the expense. I began to think of the logistics of traveling here and there. I also began to think of the lyrics to a song which tell the listener in no uncertain terms that a man can journey a thousand miles and still be in the same place.

If I could not rest and rejuvenate myself here then what exactly made me think that I could do it half way around the world. I would only return home. Of the tons of things that I must continue to learn to do, one is to be able to remove myself and go into a quiet space wherever I am. It will attribute to me moving toward and finding peace in my center.

The beauty of life and my truest life mission is that I am able to define things for myself. Blue Sky asked me the other day what did I mean by my center when I told him I needed to move closer toward it again. I told him that my center is that place inside me where when everything is well all my parts are in line with each other, where I have clarity and feel empowered in my walk. It is my heart and soul. It is the hub from which everything else operates and takes direction. It is a place of peace. It is a place of understanding, even the things that can never fully be understood by man, and one understands that. One day at a time.

While I have taken a few day trips so far this week and will meet nature in a new way this weekend on a rafting trip, I have been spending most of my time with myself. In a healthy way I have removed myself from much of the comings and goings, outside voices and forces, around me, stealing quiet moments for me.

I think. I say thank you. I pray. I sit. I sleep.

I am just being a little self-centered. I am not the center of the universe but in this time I reminded that there is a part of the universe in the center of me.

Breakthrough Breathing

2006-06-30T20:10:00.000-04:00

It was in the elevator today that I realized truly what today was. I left my office and I wouldn’t be returning for a week. I am taking all of next week off so that I can have time for me. Time to rest. This has been my plan for several weeks now. I knew this day was coming.

What I had not realized was that today was the last day of the month of June and officially six months have past since the start of the year. Good Lord.

My mind began to walk through each day of the year thus far and I became thankful for and amazed with every one. I have never stopped to think about the days or nights. I have been too busy and anxious to get through them to do so.

I am aware that is a challenge for me. I do not take adequate time to breathe in each moment and appreciate it without rushing to exhale so that I can take in another.

As I continue to breakthrough this year I must make a more conscious effort to also breathe.

Me

2006-06-25T23:19:00.000-04:00

September 11, 2001. There was no one for me to call. No one could call me. I did not know how to get back home and I was far away from it.

A cold night in the winter of 2002, I was near my home but a man would not let me enter my own door.

Tonight in the storm, there was thunder, lighting and pouring rain. I was drenched in Mother Nature’s cleansing of the earth around me.

All of these moments are connected together. They are the times in my adult life in which I have felt the most alone.

Me.

I made my way home.

I entered my own door.

I came in from the rain.

Still.

Me.

Rhythm and Revelations

2006-04-18T20:45:00.000-04:00

Life is about moments. Many of its most significant moments do not come at times that one can plan or predict. Some of life’s most precious moments are moments of surprising discovery and revelation.

Tonight I experienced one of those unexpected moments. While reclaiming my life, lights off, candle lit and beats of house music pumping through my personal sanctuary the spirit of exhaling and letting go took over me. In a single moment as the beats grew louder and louder and the tempo picked up its pace I simply stopped moving. I stood still. Rhythms so common to me in my space when no one is looking spoke to me in a new way. They turned my attention to a connection I’d never made.

This man, The Wiz who I work day by day to build and understand a relationship with and this young man, me ClayStarr have already met in another time, in another place. I had written about him, even named him years ago. Seven years later, this character I placed on paper has now been placed in my life.

In the middle of the night...

2006-04-13T01:12:00.000-04:00

I thought that I was going to bed. I thought that if I closed my eyes I would just go to sleep. I thought that it would be a rest like any other rest. All my thoughts were wrong and I am hurting. I did not expect to hurt. I did not expect to feel any pain but in the middle of the night when I thought I would be sleeping it hit me. It hit my heart and I am in pain and tears are swelling up inside of me but just like any other day I am fighting them off. I have given him so much. I will not also give him my tears. Even if he deserves them to them I must hold on. I am hurting and I did not want to hurt. There is this feeling moving through my body. There are these questions moving through my mind. Of all the things I have to offer, time and time again they want all of those things with the exception of one. They want it all, they will take all that I have. But when I offer that very special piece they all decline. What a foolish man am I. What a crazy and sometimes I feel unfair world is this. It leaves me in pain in the middle of the night. Alone.

Fight, Flight or Films

2006-04-10T13:14:00.000-04:00

Since last Wednesday I have been longing to go to the cinema. There is nothing playing of note and no favorite actor or actress of mine is starring in anything. I just want to go to the movies. It is there that I am often transported to another place for at least an hour. I am far away from reality, my reality. I am far away from anything that wants of me. I am lost in the tragedies, triumphs and lives of others. I have no attachment to them and they seek nothing from me. I am allowed to be in a movie theater, in a whole new world where I don’t have to contemplate my struggles and stresses.

Lately, I am more stressed out than usual. My plate is full and in every direction and everyone thinks that their priority is my priority. Day and night for almost a week my head has been throbbing. Even when I lay down at night it is hard to fall asleep because my mind is racing. When I wake it starts where it left off.

Parts of my job are agitating me, aspects of the role of head sorcerer for Black Magic have pushed me to all sorts of mental and physical limits and I am overwhelmed with concerns about my heart. All I want is The Wiz and I am unsure if he wants me.

All these things disappear in the dark when I am able to escape to a stadium seat. If I can’t get away from my life, I have to find a movie theater soon.