Saturday, April 29, 2006
Observation
My last post got me down a little bit and I got to thinking about my life and my sense of worth and self esteem (all of this as I'm suring a4a) and the crazy shyt is as much as I'm working through my issues there are just alot of crazy muthafuckkas who have no self worth, self esteem, and who feel like they can talk/treat people any kind of way jut because their attractive, have a big ass dick, or some good bootey. The funny thing is I used to be (and unfornately sometimes still am) one of those people- although I try to apologize and make shyt right once I know I've offended someone or done some blogus shyt.. but at any rate, that shyt just fucked my mind up real quick...
breaking the silence
Last night, while having a conversation with my mother the question that every non heterosexual man hates and detest came up, no not the who's fucking who and enjoying but the one that to me resembles more ignorance than a little bit- "Emotionalbrotha you don't mess with kids do you"- can you believe that shyt, to which I replied no mom, being gat means you like men and the man who molested me let me remind you once again is some "Straight" pyscho pedofile who gets off on raping and bothering little boys and girls. Ok, I said it! This is a topic I've been meaning to blog about for a minute but have never had the courage or strength, I keep telling myself that it wasn't my fault and I was a child and I shouldn't be afraid to talk/write/cry about it- I think the shame and guilt comes from the fact that when I began to break my silence regarding the issue- the questions of is that why your gay arose and lets not mention that I was so mind fucked that at one point and time I began to enjoy being molested- it made me feel special i guess, it was a secret, a curse, it was a blemish that no one could see, and although this man shoved his dick down my throat until i gagged, at some point i started to like it, isn't that sick?? At any rate, i'm speechless, my thoughts aren;t clear i don't know how to clearly articulate what it is that i'm feeling, i gues sadness, angry, shame, guilt, i dont know....
Monday, April 24, 2006
Puesdo dreams and old memories
Last night, I had a dream.... in my dream I was on some kind of subway or railway, basically some sort of walkway that was used for both walking and motor traffic.
As I'm walking suddenly, this vehicle pulls up next to me, the driver rolls down his window and we engulf each other in a kiss- before I realize it, I recognize who this man is, not from his kiss, although I've urned and felt it before, but from the passenger seating in the car who I see looking away, but who's sketal frame I remember very well- it is after all his younger brother. His look is one of disgust but also of tolerance or understanding but anquish, of familiarity but of how can this be- confusion fills the lines in his face, as he looks at me kissing this man- as I close my eyes I remember his touch, after all it is like the touch of no other- for this is my first "true" love- after all I am kissing my childhood best freind who I just happen to used to be in love with-
or shyt, because I'm dreaming of kissing him, maybe I still am
But, I mean after all why would I be dreaming about him? I mean he is "STRAIGHT"- or lets jusy say his proportions on the Kinsey side, don't swing as close or near to men as mine- but still I used to be in love with him- or lets say we used to be in love with each other- or some type of emotion- I mean after all he used to get mad when people wanted to show me some attention- and yes he knew, knew I was gay- not so sure he knew I was "gay". I mean what should I have said I'm a "fag" and I love you and if you didn't love pussy so much and if you weren't worried about what people were thinking, maybe we could be together-
AHHHHH....
At any rate, why would I be dreaming of this man? I mean we haven't talked in almost what like close to four years and suddenly in the middle of the night you come back into view, into the wrinkles of my brain to greet me with a kiss. That's some weird shyt, but after all for the last 2 weeks or so, as I'm coming closer and closer to crying myself to sleep, right now I haven't been able to let myself, but I think it's inevitable that I will, I'm reverting to the once "relationship oriented" brotha that I used to be- the empty sex is kinda old now, and I'm finding more and more even when I go to "cruise" spots I try to keep seeing the guys, which is insane- I mean like they say, where u meet them, is where u will leave them-
At any rate, this morning after having this man on my brain and my body for that matter, after all we kissed, I started to look for his phone number or to call my moms and ask for it, but then I thought to myself, niggah u are really crazy! You will not call this man, this fool who used and took you for granted because he was more straight than you and could disconnect from feeling for you, but use you to take care of his triffling ass! This man who used to and still will compete with you and the only area he can or will ever be able to beat u in his "traditional" sexuality- I mean after all wasn't he the one who was always fucking me??? And what kind of craziness is that?
After a train wreck of thoughts cascaded through the centers of my brain it with tick, tick, tick, BOOM! It all made since, the reason I have a problem with sex- with objectification, with anal sex, (the reason I cry and not in a good way when someone tried to fuck me, not to mention I was once upon a time *gasp* molested)- with oral sex, with kissing, with being held, with my feelings, with married men, with this so called DL, self phobic, hatefull ass negroes, with these so called straight guys who have girlfriends but who want to sleep- but not love me, I guess afterall this one person add along a hateful father, distructfull mother, and bingo you understand me in such a clearer light- yep, my first 3 loves are all idiots and you wonder why I'm fucked up! Well there you go- you got it right there. crazier than a bedbug and hopefully I can cry myself to sleep tonight so I want have to masturbate myself into oblivion and can get to sleep before 2:00 or 3:00 AM. This is why these old memories are scorching through my thoughts with the intensity of a NASCAR drive aiming for the finish line- this is why after all these years I've learned to hug and hold myself because godddammit, right now, no one else wants to-
add on the fact, that as the thoughts of my big 30 come more into realization- the closer my fatherhood starts, the closer I want to see lil emotionalbrotha, to hold him, to kiss him, to let him lay on my chest and see me-
At any rate, got me to thinking, I remember when we were younger we would wake up early on Sunday morning, cook breakfast, shower and go fishing- it was all innocent & simple fun- familiarity with someone who I learned to love, or maybe one day it just happened- I loved him, I remember how the sky used to look, the water, the fishing hook, the look in his eyes as we baited the hooks, and just sat breathing freely away from the walls which engulfed my mothers hair, and my brothers drawls on the floor, or the sneaker which dangled between two lil boys. I remember it was on one of these days as we sat and watched the sun come up, as we sat on the rocks, waiting for the fish to bite, I remember the very words (well some of them anyway, my memory is good, but not that good) that brought upon one of my many pseudo dreams- as he spoke in a very childlike but innocent voice, "yo when we have kids whoever has a son first has to name the baby after his best friend" Yep. And in two years hopefully I will be on that journey however, my son will never be named after the indivivual in which I had that conversation with, my child will never even know that man, because after all and even though last in my dream, he kissed me- I don't know that man. And honestly, the only man I do know is myself and sometimes even he is a mystery.
As I'm walking suddenly, this vehicle pulls up next to me, the driver rolls down his window and we engulf each other in a kiss- before I realize it, I recognize who this man is, not from his kiss, although I've urned and felt it before, but from the passenger seating in the car who I see looking away, but who's sketal frame I remember very well- it is after all his younger brother. His look is one of disgust but also of tolerance or understanding but anquish, of familiarity but of how can this be- confusion fills the lines in his face, as he looks at me kissing this man- as I close my eyes I remember his touch, after all it is like the touch of no other- for this is my first "true" love- after all I am kissing my childhood best freind who I just happen to used to be in love with-
or shyt, because I'm dreaming of kissing him, maybe I still am
- I would hope not-
But, I mean after all why would I be dreaming about him? I mean he is "STRAIGHT"- or lets jusy say his proportions on the Kinsey side, don't swing as close or near to men as mine- but still I used to be in love with him- or lets say we used to be in love with each other- or some type of emotion- I mean after all he used to get mad when people wanted to show me some attention- and yes he knew, knew I was gay- not so sure he knew I was "gay". I mean what should I have said I'm a "fag" and I love you and if you didn't love pussy so much and if you weren't worried about what people were thinking, maybe we could be together-
AHHHHH....
At any rate, why would I be dreaming of this man? I mean we haven't talked in almost what like close to four years and suddenly in the middle of the night you come back into view, into the wrinkles of my brain to greet me with a kiss. That's some weird shyt, but after all for the last 2 weeks or so, as I'm coming closer and closer to crying myself to sleep, right now I haven't been able to let myself, but I think it's inevitable that I will, I'm reverting to the once "relationship oriented" brotha that I used to be- the empty sex is kinda old now, and I'm finding more and more even when I go to "cruise" spots I try to keep seeing the guys, which is insane- I mean like they say, where u meet them, is where u will leave them-
At any rate, this morning after having this man on my brain and my body for that matter, after all we kissed, I started to look for his phone number or to call my moms and ask for it, but then I thought to myself, niggah u are really crazy! You will not call this man, this fool who used and took you for granted because he was more straight than you and could disconnect from feeling for you, but use you to take care of his triffling ass! This man who used to and still will compete with you and the only area he can or will ever be able to beat u in his "traditional" sexuality- I mean after all wasn't he the one who was always fucking me??? And what kind of craziness is that?
After a train wreck of thoughts cascaded through the centers of my brain it with tick, tick, tick, BOOM! It all made since, the reason I have a problem with sex- with objectification, with anal sex, (the reason I cry and not in a good way when someone tried to fuck me, not to mention I was once upon a time *gasp* molested)- with oral sex, with kissing, with being held, with my feelings, with married men, with this so called DL, self phobic, hatefull ass negroes, with these so called straight guys who have girlfriends but who want to sleep- but not love me, I guess afterall this one person add along a hateful father, distructfull mother, and bingo you understand me in such a clearer light- yep, my first 3 loves are all idiots and you wonder why I'm fucked up! Well there you go- you got it right there. crazier than a bedbug and hopefully I can cry myself to sleep tonight so I want have to masturbate myself into oblivion and can get to sleep before 2:00 or 3:00 AM. This is why these old memories are scorching through my thoughts with the intensity of a NASCAR drive aiming for the finish line- this is why after all these years I've learned to hug and hold myself because godddammit, right now, no one else wants to-
add on the fact, that as the thoughts of my big 30 come more into realization- the closer my fatherhood starts, the closer I want to see lil emotionalbrotha, to hold him, to kiss him, to let him lay on my chest and see me-
I see his face, I hear his heart, beat I look in those eyes, how wise he seems,
when he is old enough, i will show him America.. and he will ride on the wheels of a dream
- excuse the Brian Stokes Mitchell Ragtime excerpts - I couldn't help myself
At any rate, got me to thinking, I remember when we were younger we would wake up early on Sunday morning, cook breakfast, shower and go fishing- it was all innocent & simple fun- familiarity with someone who I learned to love, or maybe one day it just happened- I loved him, I remember how the sky used to look, the water, the fishing hook, the look in his eyes as we baited the hooks, and just sat breathing freely away from the walls which engulfed my mothers hair, and my brothers drawls on the floor, or the sneaker which dangled between two lil boys. I remember it was on one of these days as we sat and watched the sun come up, as we sat on the rocks, waiting for the fish to bite, I remember the very words (well some of them anyway, my memory is good, but not that good) that brought upon one of my many pseudo dreams- as he spoke in a very childlike but innocent voice, "yo when we have kids whoever has a son first has to name the baby after his best friend" Yep. And in two years hopefully I will be on that journey however, my son will never be named after the indivivual in which I had that conversation with, my child will never even know that man, because after all and even though last in my dream, he kissed me- I don't know that man. And honestly, the only man I do know is myself and sometimes even he is a mystery.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Secrets & Lies
Last night, as I laid in the bed, I realized that my life is full of secrets and lies and the only way not to hide is to search for the truth-- this blog will now be the medium for that- I feel now uncover who emotionalbrotha really is- all the things I've tried to hide that are and remain seen although I foul myself into believing they are unseen when all along people sense them without knowing, without experiencing my pain, but they see it with their ears, smell it with their eyes, and sense it deep within their beings... welcome to the secrets & lies of one brotha..
Monday, April 10, 2006
ink...
How do I escape the pain of mistrust
the eyes of a lying mother
the semen and vaginal fluids of adulterous hands that have blistered a young soul/ that still cries out for help after standing on the chair all night/
bruised and alone he takes the walk to school to avoid the bruises if he's late if he's not the perfect son/ avoiding embarrassment to his already poor mother/ impregnanted with grief/ that hangs along his shoulders like the mask of night against an engrained star/
he smiles/ n yet the pain resonates throughout his cheeks/ but the pain displays a glimmer of help that there is a way out/ out of this misery/ out of this existence- out of nowhere comes a secret he never wanted to use- the secret is bigger than any one man's courage to live life/ to have a wife/ cause none he shall have/ his testicles are now chewed on by other men as treats, as an appetizer to the feast which is his life-
the eyes of a lying mother
the semen and vaginal fluids of adulterous hands that have blistered a young soul/ that still cries out for help after standing on the chair all night/
bruised and alone he takes the walk to school to avoid the bruises if he's late if he's not the perfect son/ avoiding embarrassment to his already poor mother/ impregnanted with grief/ that hangs along his shoulders like the mask of night against an engrained star/
he smiles/ n yet the pain resonates throughout his cheeks/ but the pain displays a glimmer of help that there is a way out/ out of this misery/ out of this existence- out of nowhere comes a secret he never wanted to use- the secret is bigger than any one man's courage to live life/ to have a wife/ cause none he shall have/ his testicles are now chewed on by other men as treats, as an appetizer to the feast which is his life-
Blast from the Past
Ok, this morning, I'm having so a don't go back, my feet ain't on backwards moment. So, I get to work and I do the usaul- check the voicemail, check the mail, return calls, check the e-mail- and why do I have not one but two e-mails or offline IM from people from the pass... The first one is from Left, dude I met in DC during the Million More Movement, short, sweet, a whassup, I'm still wit my girl but thinking about you type of e-mail- did I reply nope!! He's going to have to wait- why is it that after a few months people start thinking about me--
So, yo to add weird to weirdom, guess who else pops up from the past this morning, Lot, yep my evil Ex..lol.. nah actually over him, or almost, he still makes me a little nervous when I see him... but other than that and it really aint him, I guess I need him to know how he hurt me, and when I see him, I let him see that, so thats why he cant forget about me, even if he wants to... but anyway, wish him the best and honestly I'm waiting for someone to date, for someone to love as scary as that sounds and feels..
but as a spin off to my last blog, I really feel like I'm losing it, I'm wrapped up in this painful memories of me crying in the dug out of a lonely baseball field and noone hears my cries, when I found my self alone in the dark with no escape then and there I lost myself and found myself and begin to no longer love myself because I was no longer seen- the leaves and ducks all were quiet I couldn't even hear a whisper just the sound of my own saliva as it was crushed and hurled and I was transformed- humilaited, cursed at, spit on, and deeply pentrated to the deep core- and now I'm left to pick up the peices of which will never be an identity because when it comes down to the truth, there is no truth there is only pain, the pain of my brain bashing against my phallic as you brushed against my anus and ripped me out whole, and now I left shattered, scattered thoughts and times and my frame of mind just ain't right and my gift this words is all I have to express the victimiazation that I feel and I feel a burning anger for me/ for you/ I want to lash out to all those who have destroyed my essence/ my being.my core- i want to destroy myself. but i love myself. sometimes. and sometimes i dont- sometimes I think I'm liek jesus - I am my own Messiah and dammit I can blead for myself I don't need noone to bleed for me, sitting in prayer/ waiting on the steps. a bowl of chili/ a young black boy/ dirt/ car/ sream/ run/ etc nigger eat- ur chili- u wanted so now eat/ and i'm standing in the need of prayer calling out for a god who doesn't hear me/ who abadons his young like my father did/ like my mother did/ like i wish i was adopted so i would understand why this thing called love has never called me/ and I'm waiting. wanting. urning. needing . seeking. extending myself out beyond oblivion to expereince this..this .. this... what do we call it, love- this unimagiable, inunhabitable thing- and i keep giving my "love" my affection/ my beauty/ n strength to those who just tend to hurt me the way the factory worker did/ the way the retired teacher did/ the way the Ilatin man did, the way my childhoods mom did- and they have the nerve to laugh and smile and drink wine as they spread my ass apart and partake a feast of my dick with ketchup and hot sauce and they devour it with bread and drink heavily as I sob in the dark, as I look past my pain with some glimmer of hope only to end up bruised again- laying down or sitting up or even smiling but not smiling at all or having my usual sad but sexy look- if there could ever be a thing/ and i just want u to take my picture. and i'm losing my mind. thinking about all the time i wasted/ my stomach is in knots and I cant untie the pain/ the pleasure/ the insanity encripted into my brain- into my soul/ into my psyche/ into what- this is madness and the onkly gift i have is this pen and if the ink runs out what do i have/ what can i give- besides my pain, stained red with ink and blood and urine n feces- what can i give besides my tears and my dick and heart and soul- this pain is too much. i want it to end- dammit what can i give>?
So, yo to add weird to weirdom, guess who else pops up from the past this morning, Lot, yep my evil Ex..lol.. nah actually over him, or almost, he still makes me a little nervous when I see him... but other than that and it really aint him, I guess I need him to know how he hurt me, and when I see him, I let him see that, so thats why he cant forget about me, even if he wants to... but anyway, wish him the best and honestly I'm waiting for someone to date, for someone to love as scary as that sounds and feels..
but as a spin off to my last blog, I really feel like I'm losing it, I'm wrapped up in this painful memories of me crying in the dug out of a lonely baseball field and noone hears my cries, when I found my self alone in the dark with no escape then and there I lost myself and found myself and begin to no longer love myself because I was no longer seen- the leaves and ducks all were quiet I couldn't even hear a whisper just the sound of my own saliva as it was crushed and hurled and I was transformed- humilaited, cursed at, spit on, and deeply pentrated to the deep core- and now I'm left to pick up the peices of which will never be an identity because when it comes down to the truth, there is no truth there is only pain, the pain of my brain bashing against my phallic as you brushed against my anus and ripped me out whole, and now I left shattered, scattered thoughts and times and my frame of mind just ain't right and my gift this words is all I have to express the victimiazation that I feel and I feel a burning anger for me/ for you/ I want to lash out to all those who have destroyed my essence/ my being.my core- i want to destroy myself. but i love myself. sometimes. and sometimes i dont- sometimes I think I'm liek jesus - I am my own Messiah and dammit I can blead for myself I don't need noone to bleed for me, sitting in prayer/ waiting on the steps. a bowl of chili/ a young black boy/ dirt/ car/ sream/ run/ etc nigger eat- ur chili- u wanted so now eat/ and i'm standing in the need of prayer calling out for a god who doesn't hear me/ who abadons his young like my father did/ like my mother did/ like i wish i was adopted so i would understand why this thing called love has never called me/ and I'm waiting. wanting. urning. needing . seeking. extending myself out beyond oblivion to expereince this..this .. this... what do we call it, love- this unimagiable, inunhabitable thing- and i keep giving my "love" my affection/ my beauty/ n strength to those who just tend to hurt me the way the factory worker did/ the way the retired teacher did/ the way the Ilatin man did, the way my childhoods mom did- and they have the nerve to laugh and smile and drink wine as they spread my ass apart and partake a feast of my dick with ketchup and hot sauce and they devour it with bread and drink heavily as I sob in the dark, as I look past my pain with some glimmer of hope only to end up bruised again- laying down or sitting up or even smiling but not smiling at all or having my usual sad but sexy look- if there could ever be a thing/ and i just want u to take my picture. and i'm losing my mind. thinking about all the time i wasted/ my stomach is in knots and I cant untie the pain/ the pleasure/ the insanity encripted into my brain- into my soul/ into my psyche/ into what- this is madness and the onkly gift i have is this pen and if the ink runs out what do i have/ what can i give- besides my pain, stained red with ink and blood and urine n feces- what can i give besides my tears and my dick and heart and soul- this pain is too much. i want it to end- dammit what can i give>?
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Going emotioanlly crazy
Damn yo, lately I have just been urnning for some intimacy- not sex, or maybe sex, but with cuddling and kissing and shyt.
Last night talked to the Leach and he wants to be my "friend", which is not capable and I told him I didn't want to be his friend, to which he replied well can we keep fucking and I was like nah.. I want to move on with my life, although the sex has always been really really good with him, but I really need to be with someone who respects and likes me for me-- you know it's like Mary J says a love that tears you down, ain't really love.. so anyway, this negro had the nerve to ask me for some ass, to which I replied nah, I'm kewl, and if your horney call whomever you've been fucking... to which the conversation ended up becoming a big debate/ arguement about my mouth and me wanting to know everything, and thats its not none of my business, and why does it matter, and blah, blah, blah... So, I responded well if you want to have sex, you first have to answer one question- and you know me, that questions was "how many people have you had sex with since we broke up", to which as always he got real quiet, so I was like you can be honest, which resulted in another arguement to which I ended up hanging up the phone saying when u want to be honest, then we can talk.. until then- you gets no dick, and we aint got shyt to talk about...So, as I hung up the phone and continued doing my housework.
Well 5 minutes passed and the phone rang again and you know who it is, so he's like truthfully I've only been messing aroung with one dude, and his married.. So, I'm like ok.. and he's like, this is his name and this is how I met him, and blah, blah, blah, and then I'm like so is he fucking you or you fucking him.. to which again, he got quiet, so he replies yeah.. and I'm like yeah what, yeah he's fucking me, were fucking each other and I don't have to beg him for ass like I had to beg you.. So, I'm like yo, #1 thanks for being honest, but you know I can never have sex with you again, as my stomach was churning and my heart sank.... so, this lead into a long ass discussion about this and that and whats not, to which I reminded him (my big confession on this blog), yo dummy remember we stopped using condoms a long time ago.. so nah I can't have sex with you no more.. (Disclaimer, please do not leave me comments on how I should practive safe sex!! PLEASE I know this already!) So, anyway, as the tears came to my eyeys and so sick played in my head, I hung up the phone and went to lay down...oh, but not before telling The Leach, I don't care what you think, but your the only guy who has fucked me in 4 years, to which he accused me of lying and said that people talk.... and I'm like what does that mean? And he's like someone told me that they fucked u, and I'm like what-- theres only 2 brothas in Chicago who have ever pentrated me and your one of them, and you know my ex, since he sucked your dick in the bathrooom at the Generator...lol... see previous blog for info on that one...
So, supposedly someone else has fucked me and I'm sitting here like who the fuck is Mystery Man #3, because I know a few brothas done ate the ass, but only 2 have had the pleasure of getting some... so it just got me to thinking and being depressed..and was like what the fuck is going on and who is spreading lies about me? So, anyway, I thanked The Leach for being honest, but that my feelings were hurt and it reminded me of something my Mentor told me 10 years ago, he said to me that I will drive any man crazy and that I shouldn't expect people to be honest if I'm going to crock out and act a fool and cry and shyt once I get done learning the truth.. but my thing is truth is my air, I need it to breathe, to live....And I always want and need the truth... even if I'm going to act up.. I appreciate the truth and live for it... right now I'm hurting and trying to understand whats going on.. asking so many questions, and man it's like last night I was thinking it's like emotionally I'm worse than a woman and possibly will drive anyman crazy...
Last night talked to the Leach and he wants to be my "friend", which is not capable and I told him I didn't want to be his friend, to which he replied well can we keep fucking and I was like nah.. I want to move on with my life, although the sex has always been really really good with him, but I really need to be with someone who respects and likes me for me-- you know it's like Mary J says a love that tears you down, ain't really love.. so anyway, this negro had the nerve to ask me for some ass, to which I replied nah, I'm kewl, and if your horney call whomever you've been fucking... to which the conversation ended up becoming a big debate/ arguement about my mouth and me wanting to know everything, and thats its not none of my business, and why does it matter, and blah, blah, blah... So, I responded well if you want to have sex, you first have to answer one question- and you know me, that questions was "how many people have you had sex with since we broke up", to which as always he got real quiet, so I was like you can be honest, which resulted in another arguement to which I ended up hanging up the phone saying when u want to be honest, then we can talk.. until then- you gets no dick, and we aint got shyt to talk about...So, as I hung up the phone and continued doing my housework.
Well 5 minutes passed and the phone rang again and you know who it is, so he's like truthfully I've only been messing aroung with one dude, and his married.. So, I'm like ok.. and he's like, this is his name and this is how I met him, and blah, blah, blah, and then I'm like so is he fucking you or you fucking him.. to which again, he got quiet, so he replies yeah.. and I'm like yeah what, yeah he's fucking me, were fucking each other and I don't have to beg him for ass like I had to beg you.. So, I'm like yo, #1 thanks for being honest, but you know I can never have sex with you again, as my stomach was churning and my heart sank.... so, this lead into a long ass discussion about this and that and whats not, to which I reminded him (my big confession on this blog), yo dummy remember we stopped using condoms a long time ago.. so nah I can't have sex with you no more.. (Disclaimer, please do not leave me comments on how I should practive safe sex!! PLEASE I know this already!) So, anyway, as the tears came to my eyeys and so sick played in my head, I hung up the phone and went to lay down...oh, but not before telling The Leach, I don't care what you think, but your the only guy who has fucked me in 4 years, to which he accused me of lying and said that people talk.... and I'm like what does that mean? And he's like someone told me that they fucked u, and I'm like what-- theres only 2 brothas in Chicago who have ever pentrated me and your one of them, and you know my ex, since he sucked your dick in the bathrooom at the Generator...lol... see previous blog for info on that one...
So, supposedly someone else has fucked me and I'm sitting here like who the fuck is Mystery Man #3, because I know a few brothas done ate the ass, but only 2 have had the pleasure of getting some... so it just got me to thinking and being depressed..and was like what the fuck is going on and who is spreading lies about me? So, anyway, I thanked The Leach for being honest, but that my feelings were hurt and it reminded me of something my Mentor told me 10 years ago, he said to me that I will drive any man crazy and that I shouldn't expect people to be honest if I'm going to crock out and act a fool and cry and shyt once I get done learning the truth.. but my thing is truth is my air, I need it to breathe, to live....And I always want and need the truth... even if I'm going to act up.. I appreciate the truth and live for it... right now I'm hurting and trying to understand whats going on.. asking so many questions, and man it's like last night I was thinking it's like emotionally I'm worse than a woman and possibly will drive anyman crazy...
stream of consciousness- good luck comprehending this one
Man, I'm sick of love songs, so tired of tears.... blah, blah, blah, yo why am I not feeling this Cd at all except for So Sick... I mean I tried listening to it yesterday and was like this is so high school... talking bout making angry faces and putting your hands on people.. At any rate, if your thinking about buying save your money or shyt burn a copy... but I wasn't impressed... Anyway..
what this blog entry is really about is my present state of what should I call it depression, anxeity, sadness, gloom, hesitation, frustration, disappointment, and even hope... hope that this is a breakthrough, and that I'm going to get through it.. But, to make a long story short, lately I've been extremely lonely and I have a few "admirers", I guess, if thats what you want to call them- but noone is asking right and I guess I'm starting to think, if it's not them but if it's really me... I mean I've never disputed the fact that I am a deeply flawed human being and even as much as I tried to avoid it, the fact is that I will drive a person crazy.. I could drive a person mad... and for so many years, I've tried to not be vulnerable or to not drive people crazy because of my own insecurities but yet and still I end up pushing people away and driving them and myself into an utter amount of chaos, confusion, and sadness. Right now, I'm so sad I could cry and its not like something or someone could magically appear and adjust it- it is what it is, I am what I am.. I am Mr. Sadandsexy, as I was once referred to or as.. But, yo when will I be able to change, well honestly I alreayd am changing, but when will I be whole, complete, secure, safe? When will I feel, truthfully feel like there might actually be a brotha out there who could "handle" me and all of my emotions.. and there are a slew of them, ranging burning like a hot blaze that killed 4 kids yesterday in Chicago.. and I keep telling myself to stop feeling sorry for myself and to stop beating up on my self, but yet and still I inflict the black and blue bruises across my soul and throughout my body... I'm so damn sick of this...
what this blog entry is really about is my present state of what should I call it depression, anxeity, sadness, gloom, hesitation, frustration, disappointment, and even hope... hope that this is a breakthrough, and that I'm going to get through it.. But, to make a long story short, lately I've been extremely lonely and I have a few "admirers", I guess, if thats what you want to call them- but noone is asking right and I guess I'm starting to think, if it's not them but if it's really me... I mean I've never disputed the fact that I am a deeply flawed human being and even as much as I tried to avoid it, the fact is that I will drive a person crazy.. I could drive a person mad... and for so many years, I've tried to not be vulnerable or to not drive people crazy because of my own insecurities but yet and still I end up pushing people away and driving them and myself into an utter amount of chaos, confusion, and sadness. Right now, I'm so sad I could cry and its not like something or someone could magically appear and adjust it- it is what it is, I am what I am.. I am Mr. Sadandsexy, as I was once referred to or as.. But, yo when will I be able to change, well honestly I alreayd am changing, but when will I be whole, complete, secure, safe? When will I feel, truthfully feel like there might actually be a brotha out there who could "handle" me and all of my emotions.. and there are a slew of them, ranging burning like a hot blaze that killed 4 kids yesterday in Chicago.. and I keep telling myself to stop feeling sorry for myself and to stop beating up on my self, but yet and still I inflict the black and blue bruises across my soul and throughout my body... I'm so damn sick of this...
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Brothas how true is this?
Igght, I really do have something to blog about, but it won't be this entry..lol..
So, check it out just got done reading this article on msn.com about what men think of as being "romantic", so I wanna ask the brothas who read my blog how true is this or is this article simply related to out heterosexual counterparts..
Cause for me and maybe I'm a lil "sensitive" candlelight dinners turn me the fuck on and sitting by the fireplace listening to a poem gets my blood boiling, the article actually had me wanting to go get a woman... hmmm.. and I've been meeting a few pretty ladies lately, so a brotha might be about to backslide.. anyway, how true is this..
So, check it out just got done reading this article on msn.com about what men think of as being "romantic", so I wanna ask the brothas who read my blog how true is this or is this article simply related to out heterosexual counterparts..
Cause for me and maybe I'm a lil "sensitive" candlelight dinners turn me the fuck on and sitting by the fireplace listening to a poem gets my blood boiling, the article actually had me wanting to go get a woman... hmmm.. and I've been meeting a few pretty ladies lately, so a brotha might be about to backslide.. anyway, how true is this..
What men consider romantic by Steve Friedman is the author of The Gentleman’s Guide To Life. (taking from msn.com)
Romance rule #1: Don’t expect anything in return
Michelle and I had been dating a little over a month when Valentine’s Day occurred. She’d invited me over to her place, where she was going to cook dinner. I brought some flowers and chocolates, because I’m a guy. When I entered her apartment, I could smell the steak broiling, the apple pie cooling. Very nice. But what was even nicer was her: A low-cut little cocktail dress. High heels. A string of pearls. An apron. (I’m not presumptuous enough to say it was every man’s fantasy, but being mine was good enough.) We kissed, we hugged, we ate. And all was good and romantic, until, just before dessert, Michelle rose from her chair, walked behind me to nibble an ear, then said, “OK, now help me clean up.”
Women, we men folk are all about sharing and caring and doing our part to ensure fair wages and an equitable distribution of housework and whatever else we’re supposed to be all about. But when we think of romance — and we do, we really, really do — we do not think of enforced reciprocity. Just as you want us to buy you things and treat you to dinner and tell you how beautiful you are because we want to, we want you to be affectionate and giving and do the steak and apple-pie cooking because you want to. You don’t want us to say, at the end of a romantic evening, “OK, now help me with the check,” or “I shelled out a lot of cash, sweetie, now it’s your turn to pony up.” Likewise, we don’t want “will you please help clean up” to be part of a deeply romantic gesture. In most guys’ eyes (and hearts and other parts of the anatomy), romance means giving. Not sharing or swapping favors. Giving. We like it when you understand that.
Romance rule #2: Take charge
Men are generally left with some or most of the burden of organizing outings, so the day you turn the tables on him and arrange the whole deal will be close to his heart. My good friend was really struck when his wife threw him a surprise birthday party on the beach, complete with a bar full of tequila and cable TV so he wouldn’t miss any football games and lose track of his fantasy football league. For one friend of mine, having a weekend-long mountain biking trip planned in Big Sur was a highlight—especially because there’s something about the view from a mountaintop, and you with him, that gets a guy feeling very amorous.
Romance rule #3: Add a humorous twist
Men generally don’t go for sappy love notes, but if they’ve got a sense of humor or something else going for them, recognizing that can be very effective. My friend Dan says he still fondly thinks of the girlfriend “who made her own fortune cookie fortunes — not the cookie, just the fortune — and would hide them throughout my apartment, in my wallet, a book I was reading, bedside stand and even luggage. I don’t know how she did it, but she had them printed in red ink, with those little half-cut holes that come on real fortune cookies. She would come up with great quotes and would print the date next to them. Like, ‘Time spent with you multiplies my happiness exponentially.’”
Romance rule #4: Sex should be involved, almost always
Call us simple-minded brutes, but for men, sex and romance are so inextricably linked. Pretty much any effort you make in the bedroom is automatically romantic. Not just fun, but romantic. He’ll feel closer to you—and you to him as a result, which is really what this is all about. If you’re not sure how to jump-start things, know that lingerie will usually do the trick. What you should wear and how to spring it on him depends largely on the guy. As my friend Jack put it, “If you’re 30 and under, a romantic gift to a guy really is (sad to admit) a woman in some clichéd, too-small, black-and-red lingerie outfit. We don’t need dinner,” he says. “If you’re over 30, a romantic gift can sometimes be a ski weekend (or any other activity-oriented getaway). Lingerie is still part of the equation, but not the trashy kind at this stage.”
Romance rule #5: Prove you’ve got him pegged
One man’s dream of the perfectly romantic day might be drinking 40’s of Budweiser together and going to Yankee Stadium for a baseball game. Another might prefer a day of hiking followed by a trip to the hot springs. For another it is going out for brunch and lazing around in the café, drinking coffee and reading the paper. What’s your guy’s favorite activity? Once you figure it out, give it to him. The more I heard from my friends, the more I realized how different we were. Not just from women, from each other. I have never gone for fancy lingerie—it’s always seemed too calculated, too cheesy. And I prefer to read novels and biographies over fortunes, no matter how sweet the intentions of the fortune-teller. Fantasy football? No thanks. All a woman has to do is to show she understands me and is deeply fond of the guy she understands. Then, I’m all hers.
Well, I argree with #4 almost immediately, I tell people all you got to do is feed me, fuck me, and love me and I'm yours... LOL.. It's like my mother says woman marry for love or financial security and men marry for sexual compabitibilty...
Honestly, I'm going to marry who ever I fall head over fucking boots with...lol .. cause a brotha doesn't wear heels.. but at any rate, I guess it's that time of year again, because the blog I need to write is about this lonenliness that I'm feeling and I guess asking my self again "why don't I have anybody".. but I guess I keep tolling myself that maybe i'm supposed to be alone right now.. so right now this loneliness is consuming me..
Monday, April 03, 2006
What in the world is going on???
Damn but I had to comment on this bs right here...
Why does someone (and a brotha at that- talk about adding insult to injury)... have the following ad on A4A???
Total sub bottom freak looking for a master to dominate and humiliate me. Looking for hardcore master that wants to make me his bitch. I love sucking, deepthroating, swallowing, being gang banged, slapped, spanked, spit on, verbal humiliation, K9 and more. Looking for dominant men looking for hardcore action. I go from mild to wild but prefer it wild. I know my place and how please a dominant man.
That shyt is Crazy.. and this mofo got pictures with the Conferedarate flag.. aint that some.. shyt.. well aint have nuttin better to post about.. actually i do but trying to get my thoughts together...
Why does someone (and a brotha at that- talk about adding insult to injury)... have the following ad on A4A???
Total sub bottom freak looking for a master to dominate and humiliate me. Looking for hardcore master that wants to make me his bitch. I love sucking, deepthroating, swallowing, being gang banged, slapped, spanked, spit on, verbal humiliation, K9 and more. Looking for dominant men looking for hardcore action. I go from mild to wild but prefer it wild. I know my place and how please a dominant man.
That shyt is Crazy.. and this mofo got pictures with the Conferedarate flag.. aint that some.. shyt.. well aint have nuttin better to post about.. actually i do but trying to get my thoughts together...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
