My Conversation With God

If we can love then surely it be in us to un-love. If we so accurately choose pain then we surely have the power to choose fortune. We become our thoughts, the pain attaches to our spirits and soon after our auras are dimmed and tarnished.

 

I Decide. I decide to think of the apple delicious, it is thus delicious – and to him or her not so much. Equally I shall decide pain of the past to be triumphant. I am no longer there, it is not my present, but indeed was it a gift.

 

~Dear Sir, why do you hurt?

I hurt because the heart wants what it wants.

Dear Sir, do you think you are worthless?

No.

Dear Sir, then I ask you why do you hurt?

I hurt because I want to be loved.

Dear Sir, is there no one that loves you at all?

Yes there is, but I want to be loved by a lover.

Dear Sir, your lover already loves you as you love them.

OK, but where are they?

Dear Sir, they are searching for you as you seek them. But do not seek them in Brothels and with Thieves. Wait for them where they patiently await you – your heart.~

Blackbird (A New Movie Coming out!!!) This movie will shake homes and saves lives!

If you watched this trailer and did not shake, if you watched this trailer and did not tremble, if you watched this trailer and did not feel confliction, admiration or love, then I suggest you watch it again. I am not sure if my mind has even finished digesting the power that was in this short clip. Black people talking about black people. No, black people talking about black gays. Wait, an all black cast in the south making a movie about a black gay boy learning about his sexuality.

Blackbird is a remarkable story about at a 17-year-old (Randy) black high school student living in a religiously small knit community in Mississippi learning about his sexuality and dealing with peculiar visions. Not only is Randy struggling to understand his new found urges, but he is the star of his church’s choir and son of both Isaiah Washington (Lance) and Mo’Nique (Claire). Washington plays as Randy’s estranged father who learns of his sons “indecency” and returns to help him transition into the role of a black man. While Mo’Nique falls upon Randy’s secret and blames him for the disappearance of his little sister.

If this has not convinced you that this is a must-see movie then let’s try adding them all up; the plight of emotions and drama of teenagers in high school (something we all can agree upon), a single mother who lost her daughter, an estranged father returning, the religious south, and a boy who lost his sister, has the gift of premonitions, and the difficulties of navigating the terms of his sexuality in a society where he cannot speak of such thoughts and emotions.

I cannot wait for this movie to come out. It is about time we see a movie in mainstream cinema where esteemed black actors take on the story of black sexuality. Blackbird is more than gay, Blackbird is more than black, Blackbird is more than sexuality, Blackbird is a universal story.

I Want to Unclothe You

Once again there is something moving me.

I want to spoil you. I want to cook for you and rub your back. As you walk in I would unclothe you while whispering, “you are home. You are safe here. In our domain your defenses can be lowered. The world cannot find us, sight cannot enter our world of worlds. We are spirits sent on a journey to renew the world of love. But even spirits must rest. Even spirits are tempted by evil. Charged with a task unlike any other we must continue to move, to inspire, to uplift, to enlighten. Our shine is bright. Our diamonds do not sparkle. I am alone. I am alone. I am here. I was here. I will always be here…somehow. Someway.

What is this feeling, I want I want I want you. But you are no where to be found. Why must you taunt me with your love? Why is it that you can tease me with your absence? Does that even make sense? I have never met you but I feel like I have always known you, yet somedays you feel nonexistent. I do not know what this is. You are half of me, a piece of me, maybe you are me. Sometimes I sit there and feel your warmth, sometimes I sit there and pretend you are here. But you are never here, you have never been here, maybe you never will.

What do we love to do? Do we dance shamelessly all over the house? Are we fully clothed, partially, or maybe not at all? Am I cooking and you slyly walk behind warmingly wrapping your hands around my waist, passionately kissing my neck, then resting your head and watching me cook? Are you in your boxers? What am I cooking? We eat at the table right? We lay out a beautiful menagerie of silverware and dishes. You ask me about my day and I begin to tell you. You cut me off and give me that look – you know better than that. You let me know my rights and wrongs. You inform me of my flaws. You are unafraid of giving it to me raw. Now you speak. I call you a fool. We laugh, spit up our food. We eat, you wash. I take a shower.

Can Two Men Just Be Men?

What is the meaning of this “thing” called love? How am I supposed to know what it is? Is it that important? Does anyone else get tired of searching for this mysterious and elusive entity?

It is hard enough finding friends that are gay, so how the heck do you expect me to find a lover – a husband?!  Everyone is operating under a veil. “My people” are too afraid to uncover their lovely faces. Honestly, sometimes it feels like I am an alien lurking in the shadows looking for my fellow comrades. If you’re non-heterosexual you know how it goes. You pass a person and you get a vibe, a surge. Then comes the stare, the prolonged glance…yet not too prolonged. You continue to throw glances but no one is brave or sure enough the other person is a part of the esoteric society. And the last thing you want to do is ask someone if they are gay. It is not the rejection that hurts but the stare they give you now they know your secret or the fear they may lash out in anger and insult. So instead you go home and continue to guess and wonder for the rest of your days – Is he/she the one that got away?

Now, let’s just say I find him, you know the guy. What are we suppose to do? It is not like I can turn on the TV and be showed through comedy, drama, or horror this is what the male does and this is what the female does. Am I supposed to cook and if I do cook, does it make me the girl? What if I want to mow the lawn and cook, who am I now? Do I rub his feet and bring him tea in the morning? Who opens the door for the other?  Do I put my hands on his shoulder when we dance or do I rest it on his waist? Gahhhhhh! Can someone show me the way? Do men cry and hold each other when they are in pain? And if they do, are they still men?

Why wasn’t there a book I could read growing up or a silly cartoon with two dads I could watch Saturday morning while crunching on Cheerios?  Instead I’ll just…I’ll just see what happens. I’ll tell him “I’m cooking, but don’t think that makes me the woman” or “You can open the door for me this time, but next time I’ll do it so we can both feel masculine.”

 

I wonder what lesbians think, I’m sure they have similar reservations.

 

 In any case, whatever man I end up with, he will understand whether I cook, change diapers, mow the lawn, or beat up the guy next door for staring at him, I am neither male or female I am just me. Plus it is 2013 screw gender roles! Women are executing tasks that has been deemed a “Man’s Job,” and they are doing it better. And let’s give credit to the guys too; some men are better cooks and diaper changers than women on their best day!

Anyway, it is time to get dressed and run amuck!

I Lost Myself in Love…or Something Like it.

I do not even know where to begin so I’ll jump in where my fingers and mind lead me.

He locked me in a room. 

Our entire relationship was between four walls; walls of despair and bereavement.   He told me things I dare not (at the time) tell my family or friends.  There were days he liked me and days he did not.  Moments he loved my body and moments he loathed it.  Nights our bodies laid next to each other like strangers at a bus stop – but still I cared. Why didn’t I leave, why did I stay? I felt horrid, ugly, and decrepit. I started to die, I compromised my very soul.  And because of this neglect my body, spirit, and mind took a large blow that would change my life forever.

 I kept the relationship private because that is what he wanted, I honored his request. I told no one the stories of our love… or lust. Now, I realize that he did not want privacy; he was trying to protect something he thought was integrity. He liked men but told himself he did not. He wanted men (and even me) but told himself that was impossible. I knew he was confused, I knew he was lost, but I thought he would grow to love me. That I would pull him out his pit of internal conflict and our love would be triumphant- such was not the case.

 

That is all I can muster to write, for now.