Unsent

Dear Dad,

First of all, things have been so ridiculously busy, that I have to apologize for not being around or in touch much lately. My job has nearly sucked the marrow out of me. I supposed you could say that's just as much my fault as it is my higher ups. But, so far I am still happy at the bar. I am making great money, have lots of control (which we all know I love), and I feel like a professional adult for the first time in my life. I have a title. I am the General Manager. Yay for Me! Anyway, I am sorry for being so out of touch.

So, I guess you are probably wondering why I am writing you a letter? Well, for many reasons actually. I wished I could go into all the reasons. I wished I could retrace my steps from childhood to today. I wished I could detail all the things I wanted to say throughout my lifetime in one letter. But, with a letter like this, I just have to do my best to cut to the chase. I can't give you all the back story that I wished I could. I can't catch you up on the nearly ten years of my life that you've been away from. I can't explain my theories on life, love, and human development. I can't inform you of how I have come to the conclusions that I stand firmly on.
All I can do is say what I must.

Before you come to visit me here in NYC, there is one very important part of my life you have to hear. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to like it. You just have to know it.
I am gay.

It's a secret I have not only kept from you, but from many of my friends and family for years. It was once a secret from myself. However, in the past 8 years, I have become increasingly more comfortable with myself and my life. I have come to learn that being gay is a part of who am I just as much as being a brown-eyed Cherokee boy is a part of me. I can not change this. Believe me, I tried. I prayed and sobbed my first year in New York away. And since then, I have never wanted to sob away another year of my life. It has only been since your recent decision to visit that I have begun to sob again the way I did when I was just 18 or 19 years old. Some strange fear in me has resurfaced and I can't go a day without thinking about your impending trip and what it means to my peaceful, turbulent free, gay life in New York City. The life I have been comfortably leading for ten years now. A life that has included relationships, heartbreak, trials and tribulations, acceptance, denial, bigotry, homophobia, prejudice, love, sex, struggle, joy, pain, success, and friends.

Then something occurred to me. I am a great person. I am that smart son. That attractive son. That talented son. That successful son. That funny son I have always been. I am still me. The me you see. Only, I am gay. It occurred to me that I have been living this life that I am so proud of and keeping it a secret from you. Ironic that my whole life all I have wanted to do was make you and Mom and Cody proud, and here I am...PROUD. Strange that my biggest fear has been disappointing my parents. When all the while, in this not so quiet little place on the east coast, I have been living loudly and proudly and not sharing this pride with the people I desired most to please. It also occurred to me, that I am approaching 30 years old. I can't live my life to please anyone but myself anymore. I don't want to live my life with secrets. The kind of secrets that you and your family and siblings have kept from each other. I don't want to have a relationship with either you or Mom that doesn't include this huge part of me. I don't want to keep secrets from each other anymore.

That being said, the secret is out. Now, you do what you want with it. You want to keep it a secret? That's your choice. I won't. At least not from you. You know now. That's all that matters to me. The box is unlocked. The lid is off and it is no where to be found. And Dad, I know that you have your secrets too. We all do. Families have secrets. If you ever want to tell me any of yours, you know I will listen. If your trip out to NYC to see where I live and what my life is like is a step to building a stronger relationship with me, then my telling you about being gay is my step to a better relationship with you.

Whatever you want to know, just ask. Whenever you are ready to know, just ask. You don't want to know anything? I won't ask. But, in coming out to NYC, I had to come out to you. I have a life here. It involves me being gay. I wouldn't have been able to hide it from you. Ten years can't be put in a box and slid under my bed.

I still want you to come visit. I want you to meet my friends. I want you to see the beautiful place at which I work and the city I call home. I want to do whatever you are hoping to do. If this letter changes your mind about visiting, I will understand. If you have trouble with this part of my life, I will understand. I will be frustrated, hurt and disappointed, but I will still understand. If I am capable of this understanding, all I ask is for you to try for the same understanding.

Take your time. But, please call, write, or email when you have received this.

Sincerely with love and respect,
Your Proud Gay Son
Chad

Missing

It's been too long. For some, it has only been mere days. Others--weeks. For most it has been months.
If you've seen anyone who matches the following description please respond.

He stands 5'11'' in those damn cowboy boots. His hair is getting a bit shaggy. He has deep dark brown eyes. His lips are exceptionally red from dryness. He recently shaved for the first time in the year 2006. He's lost about 9 pounds in the past month. He can be spotted on restaurant row twice a day. The time fluctuates. He hasn't been to the gym so he probably doesn't look as pumped up. He hasn't eaten enough so he's cheek bones look razor sharp but fabulous nonetheless. He's bordering on pale because he hardly sees the sun. He generally exists at odd hours between 42nd Street and 52nd and 8th Avenue and 9th Avenue. One person spotted him at The Coffee Pot on 49th and 9th. They said he was pouring generous amounts of Half and Half in his coffee that smelled of hazelnut. He had one earphone from his ipod in one ear and his razor phone on his other ear/shoulder. His purse was falling off his shoulder. He bustled out before they could even call out his name. Another individual said they recall talking briefly with him while in passing at the local late night posh pub on 51st Street. They recall his eyes being bloodshot, his smile seemed painted on, and he hardly made eye contact. The next thing they knew he was out the door. Another person said that someone at the laundromat on 9th Avenue between 46th and 47th resembled him, but it was hard to tell, because he was wearing a dirty baseball hat, sunglasses, and cargo shorts. This person firmly believed that he would never wear cargo shorts, so this person dismissed him as a fake. The only girl with any leads as far as tracing specific times, is the Barrista girl at Starbucks on 47th and 9th Avenue. She said that he has been in at least 10-12 times in the past 4 weeks. However, it was difficult for her to be 100% confident because he never ordered the same thing. A few subletters and roomie hunters have spoken with him via text, email, and voicemail. But, since they don't know what he looks like or his exact whereabouts, their assistance is fruitless.

If you have any leads on the health, happiness, stability, or just plain whereabouts of this person please notify Clem (of this blog) and help lead them back together. Clem misses him more than any of the others. But, if you want to help, donations can be made at Bar Centrale on 46th Street, Citrus on Amsterdam and 75th, City Grill on Columbus and 73rd, Dive 75 on 75th Street between Amsterdam and Columbus and The Coffee Pot.

Let's hope for a speedy discovery and recovery.

A Mind's Eye

He rolls his eyes and she closes her's.

She listens to her mind and all the the things it would say if she could open her mouth. If she could get her muscles to work properly to form the words. But, she can't. Her lips stay glued together. Curled into one another.

Her mind screams.....hoping to be heard by him. By anyone. By everyone she curls her lips around.

Her mind....
"why do you roll your eyes? do you take anything I say seriously? why is it always good time charlie with you? life has to be hard for you and no one else. you can't stand on solid ground when things turn for other people. if I am happy you can have me. if I am not you can't stand me. stop telling me to get over it. you don't recognize my world and how it is turning around. i can't always be who you think I should. i can't always do what you think I should. do you miss me? you only miss me when you need me? you want me lukewarm. you don't want me hot and bothered. you don't want me cool and collected. my coolness is misread as confidence which you lack and therefore resent that I have. my hot and botheredness is interpreted as drama which you languish in your own pool of therefore there is no room for me. you don't want to hear about me. it's like you choose what you care to listen to and then pick it out of me. i bend without breaking. i smile without shaking. i pick up the phone. i show up when asked. i stifle my emotions. i truck along. i jump ship and join you in the water. i go through the motions. the motions of our friendship, our relationship, my job, my life, my family. i blame myself. i am responsible for the position i have put myself in. i made myself the person people expect to see. if i am not that person then things feel/look foreign. what if i told you to get over it. what if i rolled my eyes. what if i called you dramatic, arrogant, lazy, fat, skinny, ugly, pathetic, all the things i think in a split second but go away just as fast. because i love you. because i know you have to be a little pathetic to be a lot of precious. you need the arrogance to teach you to be humble. you need to be lazy to find the strength to pull yourself up by the bootstraps. be there for me or not. but just know that i won't use this against you. i won't change how i hear you or see you or feel you. even when you do those things to me. even when you become lukewarm about my life when i wanted you to be hot and bothered or cool and collected..."

She open's her eyes, uncurls her lips, feigns a smile, and says...
"Yah, you're right. Whatever."
He has no idea what she is thinking. He has no idea she caught him rolling his eyes. He has no idea of the tornado of emotions blowing through her turbulent life. She has no idea that he doesn't know how to handle her. She has no idea that he will be there even when he rolls his eyes. They can't see with their mind's eye what only the other's mind's eye can see.

NOTE: Don't ask who or if this is about anyone. It's a perspective piece about perspective.

Awkward Pose

My week has been full of changes. Hell, I would go as far to say that my year (2006 so far) has been one big change. In my most recent changes, I have been put in awkward situations. I have felt awkward about my position and my stance. I have been reaching out and trying not to fall back. I have been lied to, placated, left in the dark, tugged, pushed, plopped down, patted on the back, yelled at, cried to, begged for, taken for granted, taken advantage, you name it. And, that is just in my professional life. Sometimes, I feel myself forgetting to breathe. Sometimes, my breath becomes quick. Sometimes, I feel like I am bending backwards for these people. Sometimes they are twisting my arms and legs like ropes. Sometimes, I lie on my back in the middle of the floor focusing on one spot on the ceiling feeling wrung out.

I think it is probably the fifth posture in the bikram yoga series. It's English name is appropriate but not perfect. Mostly, because there are more postures throughout the practice that are far more awkward to get yourself into than the actual "Awkward Pose."

In the pose, you stand straight with your feet hips distance apart and then raise your arms up and out in front of you. You keep your arms firm and straight until your finger tips are stretching forward from your shoulders and your arms are at a ninety degree angle from your torso. Then, you proceed to sit your butt down as if there were a chair behind you. You keep your weight on your heels, your hands stretching forward and you go dow to chair level. The instructor's are repeating, "go back, way back, feel like your gonna fall back, go back." It is a strange sensation. You do feel like you are gonna fall back. Sometimes people do fall back. Sometimes they fall back to get the teacher's attention. Sometimes you don't sit down far enough and you miss that falling sensation. But, the struggle is intense. You are reaching forward but sitting back at the same time. It's a mental game that your body isn't helping you win. Your thigh biceps are tense and possibly shaking. Your ankles feel the weight of your body and your mind. Your arms are exhausted. Your breath is quick. Then the instructor announces...."Change." You release.

In Bikram Yoga, you hold your poses for a length of time between 20 and 60 seconds. It feels like a lifetime. But, the release, when the instructor says 'change', is rewarding.

I don't know how much longer I can hold my awkward pose. It's been six days now. I don't see an end in sight. My instructor's have left the room. They didn't say when they would be back. But, they did ask me to hold it. They did ask me to go back, way back. They did ask me to keep reaching forward. I am sweating. I have tears on my face. My body is tight and tense. I am reaching and falling. My breath is short. My chest is up. I am just waiting for the instructor to return and say the word. The word that I hope will bring me some rewards. The word that when uttered I will feel the total benefits of my awkward pose. One can hope.

"CHANGE"

Daylight, Savings, and Time

Three things I always want more of.

With the change of season comes a change of pace and a re-directed focus. We hope.

With more daylight I would be sunkissed daily and feel like the day isn't half over after I wake.

With more savings I would be able to take time off work, travel, spend.

With more time I would be able to write, sing, dance, sleep, and be with people.

More, more, more. We can never reach enough.

What I wouldn't do with more. More and I would have a passionate love affair.