I Dream, a Genie

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Have you ever had one of those nights when you’d promised a whole bunch of people that you’d blog everyday for a year and you were something like 166 days into it  but you found yourself really not wanting to do it that night and you’d just been to a party in New Jersey where the theme was  I Dream of Jeannie and you’d put together a costume at the last minute but it ended up looking pretty descent for something thrown together at the last minute and you ended up talking to a guy at the party you really found yourself thinking that you could fall in love with a guy like this only the guy is straight and you’re not and you’re a guy and you wonder if there’s a version of him out there who does actually dig dudes and one who could dig you and not some future and improved version of you but the you you are right now with all your flaws? Have you have had a day like that?

I’m pretty sleepy right now and I’ve just finished washing the purple makeup off my face and the blue temporary spray dye out of my beard. I’m moving into Brooklyn tomorrow. I have a friend who has a place that’s vacant until the end of the month. I’ll miss King and James and the pugs and the cat but Brooklyn will be closer base of operations while I continue to look for a place to live. I feel pretty hopeful. I feel like great things are happening and greater things are on the horizon. Going to the party was good for me tonight. I’m sure happy to be back in the North.

My buddy, Ron (Iraq vet from Tennessee) is coming to pick me and my gear up and drive us into the BK. It would be a pain in the ass to try and schlep all that shit on the train. I love my friend Ron. We been friends a long time now and the story of our friendship is an interesting one for sure.

I need to start writing.

I checked in with my action partner this morning. I’d only done one of the three things I said I’d do. I’m to check in with him tomorrow morning at 7am and I haven’t done the things I said I’d do for today either. Oddly, I’m not freaked out by this. I’m going to keep making the action items easier and easier until I can actually accomplish them, then move up from there. I don’t care if it ends up being “I’m going to sit down at my computer and not write for five minutes” and that’s the place form which I start. At least I’ll know where I’m starting from. There’s fear in back of the Resistance and it’s a— well, the not writing thing, together with any other resistance to doing what I need to do to manifest my dreams— well, it’s a thing like drinking. I used to say, “You have to stop drinking! What the fuck are you doing? You’re ruining your life! Can’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?!” and I would say this things as I was pouring the next drink. It was if I was watching someone else do it. It is the definition of powerlessness.

Some queen wrote to me this morning and told me he’d been following me for years and had stopped following me because I was such a victim. Oh no! Please don’t stop following me!! haha What is that anyway, “following?” What the fuck does that even mean? Bless his heart. He told me that he grew up with everything, lost it all, and now he was “making it happen” again. Honey, if you “grew up with everything,” you know nothing of the programming of entitlement because you can’t see the house you’re looking out the windows of. Fuck your pop-psyche-y “advice” you frightened little boy. The reason you couldn’t resist writing me that message (as if I give a fuck) is because you’re too afraid to look deeply inside your own self to see that the masquerade still isn’t doing it for you. And if your life philosophy can be found in the motivational book section of Office Depot, you can shove it up your ass. Trust me, I’ve heard it all. In a couple of years, while you’re still polishing the banisters in your bungalow with Liquid Gold, I’ll be polishing my Tony. Fuck off. There is nothing about my life that I would trade for yours. Nothing.

There’s  the 23:53  New Jersey Transit. Time to sleep and have some more awesome dreams.

See y’all tomorrow.


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