I Love Me 

                 

I FEEL TORN about being gay. It feels like a monster that I try to just keep in the closet. But it’s not just that. Not only am I attracted to other guys, but I’m also attracted to men much older than me. This can be very disturbing, and my psyche has been in such torment over this that it has brought me to extremes. Sharing your body is a powerful thing, something that I’ve learned only recently. There’s even a preference for men of color (blacks and Latinos) that has confirmed itself over the years. This is not going away. If I could, I would wish it all away. But burying it only brings it back to the surface, like a sick game of Whac-A-Mole. It could be a musician, a businessman, or even a DJ (admittedly, I get a real hard-on for some of those disc jockeys out there). And it gets even more uncomfortable when the men I have [deep] affections for are people close to me. I’m talking about friends, acquaintances, and coworkers. There are really no limits. In reality, there’s nothing [particularly] wrong with these men. My fellow ebony men have beautiful qualities. And the Latino complexion is so exquisite that it makes me wonder who could conceive it. The thing is, gay men can be extremely sensual. This is partly, by nature. Men are naturally more physical, and you don’t see this more than in the gay community, especially the bear community (a type of gay man which emphasizes male physicality). But then there’s reality. In a day and age where everyone creates their own rules, reality has become increasingly blurred. And to certain gay men, this is taken to extremes. Age is no longer a factor: you can be half a man’s age and still consider marriage. You can have multiple partners. And while you see this type of behavior in even heterosexual people, that’s not the point. The point is, I’m a 27-year-old who's laid with men twice my age who I thought were worth being passionate with. To be fair, only one of them actually stole my heart. In fact in hindsight, the first two men I laid with were not really that attractive to me and there was no true intimacy. But there have been some men that I’ve come across and there’s been a legitimate connection, and not just physically either. We’ll have things in common. Sometimes we’re going through similar situations or we’ve been through the same struggles. It varies from person to person. However, when you’ve had sex with someone twice your age and of the same sex, it changes you. It changed me at least. And the torment comes because then you think something’s wrong with you. It changes how you look at yourself, how you look at others. There would be these very dangerous scenarios where I would put myself in these vulnerable positions and then come out the other side with even less of myself: more confused, more desperate, more hurt. But the struggle doesn’t just come from trying to bury this thing, but rather, accepting it. You see, it’s one thing accepting the fact you’re attracted to guys when they’re the same age as you, but it’s much harder to accept that [same] truth when that man is old enough to be your father or your uncle. This is my life. Even if the desires fade over time, I crave the peace that comes from having normal desires. 

There's No Title that Could Describe This..

I WOULD GET so depressed that I couldn't think. I couldn't focus. And I was starting to hate screens. I had an increasing desire for books and human interaction. When I tried smoking weed that would just make things worse. The only thing that seemed like it could comfort me was the presence of a large man I could hug. Even music was something I was struggling to create or even listen to. That one is more logical; I was always more of a performance artist. I can't stand just sitting at a freaking computer trying to make beats. 

Does anyone know that I had feelings for a man twice my age and how deeply it affected me? How I thought I loved him and how I saw a father figure in him and how confusing he was? How much passion we shared? 

The last times I've been happy are, not coincidentally, when I'm out of this house and doing my own thing. Sometimes it's with people, sometimes it's just me. In fact usually it's out of this town entirely. The person next to me is an angry, disgusting drunk and I hear everything through the walls. It's disturbing how much you can hear through these walls; like they're made of nothing. That's why money doesn't really phase me anymore. At this point in life, I want someone I can share myself with. Why on earth would I want money and a nice car and a nice job and my own place to live when I have literally no one to connect with or have a desire to connect with? 

I'm gonna move to Jacksonville. It's gonna take time. When I'm out doing my own thing, away from this place, I can see myself smiling again. Hopefully someone meaningful has joined me. Hopefully, that someone meaningful won't confuse me this time.

Right Where It Belongs

     

    It Seems As though the oblivious nature of people has wreaked havoc on society. Myself included, for I’m just as susceptible to ignorance. Awakening is not possible without the desire to search. With that in mind, I think it’s healthy, even necessary to wonder, for a time. But eventually, you will come to a conclusion. I have become so disillusioned with the world around me that I’ve actually attempted to separate myself from it. How foolish! There’s no possible way for me to have an accurate view of the world around me without a shift in paradigm, and merely trying to "escape" it, is futile. No, this isn’t escapism; there are drugs for that. What I’m referring to is a revelation. But more specifically, this is a quest for truth! However, since miscommunication is so easy in this climate of oversensitivity and political correctness, I’ll try to put it more simply. It’s not that things are falling apart in my life, just becoming more clear. What's interesting is, I’ve stopped beating myself up so much about things. Even for things that are horrible. It doesn’t matter how well you take care of a plant. If there are weeds sucking that beautiful life source out of the soil, thriving (regardless of the environment) will be impossible.

“...you keep looking but you can’t find the woods, while you’re hiding in the trees”.

- Nine Inch Nails “Right Where It Belongs” 

The "Oso"

           The "Oso"

            So I'm really gay for Hispanic and Latino bears. Like, REALLY gay. These are feelings I've never shared before, so this post is a little intimidating. Heck, I might not even share it. So if you're reading this...I mustered up the courage to make this public. At least, to a select few.

   Anyways, I discovered this probably 2 years ago. As I was browsing through a photography site, I happened to come across a very handsome Argentinean man. At the time, I thought nothing of it...just another guy that aroused me. No big deal. The thing is, this would be the **beginning** of a very explicit trend, one that continues to this day. But, before I get to that, let's get back to the Argentine. So apparently, he turned out to be a DJ (funny enough, I didn't actually check out his music until sometime later, only to find out he was actually pretty good). In fact, I fell in love with his music, this "tribal house" that he made. It's percussion-driven sound naturally hit home with me, a drummer. However, at the end of the day, he was just a DJ who just so happened to be handsome and just so happened to be Latino. Nothing more, nothing less. Wrong!! Because next, it was a Spaniard.

   This is where things got interesting. Again, just browsing through social media, this time, Instagram, and what do I know, I come across yet another gentleman. He was smiling for a selfie and appeared to be in his mid to late forties. The location tag said Seville, Spain, so I assumed him to be a Spaniard, which proved to be correct. This "Sevillano" was absolutely gorgeous. Never in my life had I seen someone so incredibly handsome, so perfectly beautiful. But, at this point, I still didn't consider myself "partial" to the Hispanic variety. But it only kept happening. Soon, I was stumbling upon attractive Mexicans, Chileans, Cubans, and everyone in between. I found them all to be so beautiful. Young Puerto Ricans, old Spaniards. I didn't understand it. Almost all bears, hence the title of this blog ("Oso" is Spanish for "bear"). And Osos did I love!! While I've almost always been more drawn to internationals, this was different. This was almost exclusively Hispanics! What's even more interesting is that I seem to be most drawn to the Argentineans and Spaniards. Yes, Argentina and Spain, the countries of the first two Hispanic men I discovered! Even now, it's the men of Madrid and Malaga that steal my heart, the Argentines of Buenos Aires who put me in a trance.

   So why am I writing this? Why does any of this matter? Well, because I don't know where else to put these feelings. No one in my family to my knowledge is gay or supports the LGBT "lifestyle". Likewise, there are not many friends that I could confide in with matter. So here I am. Simply put, I don't know where else to go. Nonetheless, good has come out of this newfound attraction; I've learned more Spanish in half a year than I did in all my schooling. I now find myself choosing flamenco and tango over metal and pop-punk. Even my travel interests have changed. Now, it's Santiago and Guadalajara that I want to bring my camera, not San Francisco or London.

   Someday, I want to call a Hispanic mine. Whether he's from Spain, Panama, or Florida. I don't care. Hispanic men were blessed with a natural beauty that is unparalleled, at least to me. So, maybe next time, I'll be writing from Madrid, with my lover, talking about how things have been amazing, and my strange feelings were not in vain. That I found "My Oso".

Feeling This Entry #4

                 

            SO I'M NOT really sure where to begin. So much has happened since my last post; concerts, a death in the family, collaborations with producers. It's been an interesting year; one filled with joy and heartache and a slurry of other emotions. But one thing has pestered me continuously, gnawing at my insides. Loneliness. No, not your standard "loneliness"; I have a great support system of friends and family! No, I'm talking about...being single. It's been super hard to deal with and at times drains the life force out of me. Sometimes, there's moments where all I think about is finding that special someone, whoever he may be. Should I have met them by now? Am I looking hard enough? Am I looking too hard? The sum of these perplexing questions just adds to the anxiety. Faith is the only thing that keeps me together, sometimes barely. The knowing and believing that he'll come and, in fact, WILL be in my life! However, it's been a mental battle of sorts. One side says he'll never come, that I'll just be waiting for the rest of my life. But the other side, the one I CHOOSE to believe in, says: he's already here!

And so I wait.....

Untitled (Feeling This entry #3)

I think my brother is dying. His suffering from respiratory lung failure. He can barely breathe. He has to live off a machine. He coughs like he's literally struggling to breathe and the sound is unbearable. I'm not in the right setting. This place is hurting me. My mom is a stress bomb. Even when my brother was healthy, she just complains and forgets and is super emotional all the time. Not to mention a crazy religious freak.... Not all of that is just multiplied. It's depressing and boring and stressful here.

All of this is making me collapse. Why is this hitting me? Its too much at once. Sometimes I feel like I did something wrong and my life path is responding back. I know it's all in my head. For sure, I will make it through.