Saturday Morning

Outside the world was dreary, but vibrant with life.  Inside there was nothing but silence and the rolling screensaver from Netflix, another night of binge sleeping through all the episodes of Grace & Frankie.  I stumble, groggily, to the kitchen for coffee mulling over the disastrous and gross state of the floor.  Imagining the horror of tiles breaking as I rolled the refrigerator across them to position it back in its alcove on the opposite wall. Grout and sealant will be purchased this month, I thought, as the Keurig whined about making me a coffee.  If anyone could see my face right now, they’d think I was angry, when in fact I’m just trying to wake up.  I sat down and grabbed my laptop, thoughts swirling in my head like a storm that I must navigate.  The irritating sound of the windows rattling as the train passed by mingled with the tune to Sade’s ‘Soldier of Love’ as I thought about the events of the day.  Finally getting to have lunch with Glenn and William after nearly a month.  Glenn was finally getting the cabinet out of the front room.  It’s all starting to come together in there and will be “done” once I make a few more trips to IKEA for the shelving I want and once I decide whether to keep the rest of my World of Darkness books.  I say “done” as I still haven’t found the kind of video game decor for the room that pleases me that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.  Where’s my damn coffee?  As I sip, I think about the year ahead.  Still filled with an amazing amount of dread over my future trips to Philadelphia to see Matty.  I can’t let what Jeffery said to me at the end ruin this beautiful and amazing city for me anymore.  There is still so much more to see and do and experience.  Fuck him, he’s dead anyway.  Chalk that one up to the mistakes pile along with Stuart and Chris and the innumerable list of things I wish I had and hadn’t said to the innumerable list of people I wish I had and hadn’t said those things to.

How many times have I listened to this damn song? Ugh…I’m a soldier of love, but I need something with a beat. Ah, here we go, some Slayer should do.

Opening my email anymore fills me with vomity horror as it’s never anything anymore but the shitty things that the Trump administration is doing.  Sign these 500 petitions to help save the world.  Yeah, right.  My emails anymore are nothing but an exhaustive list of shipments from either eBay, Amazon or Gaming Relics, or creepy emails from Target telling me “that thing you looked at is on sale, buy it”.  Stop being a creep Target.

Time for more coffee!  I’ve picked up the cup twice now and realized I drank it all.

Bloodborne.  It’s been 2 years since I beat the game with that gangly British twat’s help then subsequently abandoned once he got the platinum trophy.  This time around, I’ll get the damn platinum since my brothers in arms are playing it with me.  This will be the second game this year that I came close to getting the platinum in the past only to have victory jerked out from underneath me.  Infamous and the trophy glitch and then Bloodborne and someone else’s selfishness.  I can’t even listen to his music now without getting angry since he unfriended me a few weeks ago.  It’s whatever though.  Had anything ever come of it, it would have just been more amazing sex with a crazy person and we all know how that ends.

Looking at my release calendar, I need to do more writing.  Seriously.  I have so much to say and only so much time to say it.

There’s a lot to look forward to though.  E3 this year is going to be amazing.  There’s already been a few things announced that I’m interested in seeing more of (Smash Bros for the Switch? Yes please!) and other things that have been mentioned or shown in the past that I hope make an appearance this year.  E3 is almost like the carrot on the stick to help me and Matty get through the shitty opening to this year. It’s not been good for either of us, but I argue that it’s been a lot worse for him than for me.  10 hour work days along with winter storms that have knocked out power.  Just wanna give him a hug and remind him I love him and I’m here for him, always.  The other big event this year is the meetup in Atlantic City.  I’m still super nervous and full of dread about going to that too, but I’m sure it will be a good time.  Both events are definitely keeping me motivated to get up and keep on living.

Now that I’m fully awake and energized, there’s a lot to do and I have no motivation to do any of it.  Let’s do it anyway.


Relationships, part 17


There was a time that I thought you were the one. There was a time that I thought you could be my boyfriend, my husband, my lover, my spouse, my power of attorney, my widow. There was a time that talking to you every day brought me joy, it brought me happiness. There was a time when I looked forward to talking to you, to gaming with you every day, to hearing your voice, to seeing your face. But now I don’t feel like I’m looking at the same person, I don’t feel like I mean anything to you anymore. I don’t understand what’s changed, what’s happened.

I didn’t think it was appropriate for you to send me snapchats of you and your boyfriend in bed together and I also thought it was a little tacky for you to send me snapchats while you were out doing stuff together. It was almost like you were rubbing it in my face that you had a boyfriend but I was still single. Speaking of snapchat, I found your excessive use of it (instead of carrying on a normal conversation like a normal person) to be very annoying. At least that’s one thing I’ll never have to deal with again.

Thanks for ruining The Smashing Pumpkins for me and I hope you can find people willing to put up with your stupidity enough to game with you in Destiny 2 and Killing Floor 2. If anyone between the two of us should be angry, it should be me. You pretty much just up and left me behind on consoles to go do PC gaming instead. I guess my friendship just wasn’t good enough for you, was it? You’re just like every other faggot I’ve ever met on the internet, only interested in me for my looks and once you got tired of looking at that you moved on. Typical.

Oh, and the beginning of the year when I was sick as fuck for like 3 months and you were being really pissy and annoying because you wanted to carry on a full on conversation when all I wanted and needed to do was rest and sleep? Fuck you for that too. I’m beginning to think that maybe the Canadians in Quebec and Nova Scotia are the only decent ones because the further west you travel the more you guys turn into assholes (just like Americans). I used to think your ex was an asshole for leaving you, but now I’m beginning to think that maybe he had the right idea. You’re just an asshole, plain and simple. If you wanted to know how I felt about you, you could have asked instead of making assumptions and spreading lies. Yes, there was a time that I liked you and thought you might have been the one, but that changed when I realized you’re a fucking drunk just like Jeffery was, and any hope I had for you died when you told me you used MDMA. I’m certainly not going to have anything to do with a drug addict, so why don’t you do everyone a favor and either overdose or get clean before you hurt someone else’s feelings.

I’m leaving you in 2017 with the rest of the trash. Goodbye and good luck.

Alanis Morissette – You Learn

Oh, oh, oh

I, recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone, yeah
I, recommend walking around naked in your living room, yeah

Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill)
It feels so good (swimming in your stomach)
Wait until the dust settles

You live you learn, you love you learn
You cry you learn, you lose you learn
You bleed you learn, you scream you learn

I, recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone
I certainly do
I, recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time
Feel free

Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind)
Hold it up (to the rays)
You wait and see when the smoke clears

You live you learn, you love you learn
You cry you learn, you lose you learn
You bleed you learn, you scream you learn

I, I, oh, oh

Wear it out (the way a three-year-old would do)
Melt it down (you’re gonna have to eventually, anyway)
The fire trucks are coming up around the bend

You live you learn, you love you learn
You cry you learn, you lose you learn
You bleed you learn, you scream you learn

You grieve you learn, you choke you learn
You laugh you learn, you choose you learn
You pray you learn, you ask you learn
You live you learn

Relationships, part 16

So a few Saturdays ago I got a friend request from one of my nephews. I know for a fact I blocked him once before so it seems he made a new account. I had toyed with the idea of opening a dialogue to see what he wanted…but I was hesitant.

I’ve been an uncle since birth. He’s a year older than me and his brother is a year younger than me. The 3 of us were pretty much inseparable until our teenage years when self discovery started. THAT was when the drift started. When my sister outed me, I don’t think it helped.

After seeking the advice of friends, people on Facebook and a mostly ignored plea on Instagram, I decided to go ahead and take the next step and talk to him.  This was the beginning of a conversation that I’ve had a feeling in my gut was coming for some time.  I’ve been having thoughts/feelings about my biological family for a while now because I had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, not all of them were against me.  It could also be the creeping realization that age is catching up to us all and there’s only so much time we have left.

Some of my more prominent memories of this guy aren’t exactly pleasant ones, so I decided to err on the side of caution and message him anyway, but with contingencies in mind.  So far everything has been fine and the conversations have been civil.  I’m just wondering about a few things that he said during our conversations.

He wants me to meet his new wife, Angel.  I’m not opposed to the idea, but I’m not really thrilled with it either.  After I worked up the courage to ask him what happened with the other girl he married – Hayley – he told me that after 9 years she cheated on him.  That definitely opened up a flood gate of emotions when I told him I’d been cheated on twice.  That was when I outed myself to him.  He asked if I was currently seeing anyone and I said yes, his name is Matt.  He seemed cool with it and didn’t freak out about it or anything.  I told him that I was glad that he didn’t flip out over and his response is what I’ve been mulling over since he said it:

“Hell no man I’m not going to freak out on ya. That’s who you are and we wouldn’t have it any other way.  No judgement here.  From any of us.”
So does ‘we’ mean just him and Angel, or is he speaking for our whole family?  Was this all just a huge misunderstanding from the get go and I’ve been living with the assumption that I’m not liked by my family?  I don’t know.  I also really don’t know if I want to even bother finding out.  How the fuck do you establish a dialogue with a group of people that you haven’t seen or spoken to in nearly 20 years?  If in fact I’ve been mistaken all this time, then perhaps the record should show that maybe I was wrong.  And if in fact, that’s not the case and I’m just looking at things through rose colored glasses, then perhaps trying to establish a dialogue or even seeing my family again after all this time is possibly the worst idea I’ve ever had.
For the time being, I’m going to keep the dialogue with him open and hope for the best.

Dear Matty

I’ve been waiting for months for this countdown to reach zero, and here we are.  It’s a little after 9am and you just texted me to tell me you’re at your gate at Philadelphia airport.  I’m sitting in my living room, just dressed, having coffee and writing you this letter.  I’m so unbelievably nervous about meeting you in person for the first time.  You’ve told me again and again not to be, but I can’t help myself.  My heart thunders in my chest and my pulse races at the thought of finally getting to spend some quality time with you that doesn’t require an internet connection and use of PSN.  I’ve barely slept at all because I didn’t want to miss picking you up.  I’m so anxious.

After you went to bed, I baked the chocolate chip muffins and ate two of them.  Had to make sure they were up to snuff before I served them to you hahahaha.  You just checked in on Facebook, I’m so excited!  Alex is on his way to get me and then we’ll be picking you up.  Every time I think about you being here I get excited and smile and laugh.  I can’t believe that this day is finally happening!

Fast forward to the end of the week…

This went by way too fast!  It’s a little after noon on Saturday and I’m sitting here on my couch listening to The Cure and wishing you were still here in my arms.  I still feel like an asshole for making you cry this week; once after telling you about my mother and what happened to her and again when we had the talk about us.

I’m going to miss having your big warm body to snuggle up with at night, holding you close to me and feeling the heat of your breath on my skin.  Hearing the sound of you snoring and watching your lumbering form cast shadows on the dim walls of my bedroom.  I’ll miss all those special dirty things we said to each other in bed.  I’ll miss having morning coffee and muffins with you and snuggling under the cammo comforter on the couch while we play games together.

I’m already counting the minutes until I get to see you again.  I miss my bubby.

Your papa bear,


Life Is A Suicide Mission

Do you ever wonder why people kill themselves? I used to.

Way back in school, when I was first introduced to the concept of suicide, I couldn’t for the life of me understand why someone would do such a thing. I get that your life is currently in a shit place and things are bad, but are they really that bad? Little did I know that in a few years, I’d learn why in a very difficult life lesson.

When I was young, I used to listen to all the grown ups in my family talk, I loved hearing their life stories. One story always stuck with me through the years. I don’t remember his name, but mama knew a man that she described as ‘always happy and funny and cheerful.’ She had a picture of him with my sister Regina when she was young. She told me that he had killed himself. Being so young, I had no idea what that meant or why it made her so sad.

Not long after high school was finally over, life decided to really take a turn for the worst. I’d be willing to go so far as to say that it’s the darkest period of my entire life. First, my mother died a couple months after I graduated after a nearly year long battle with cancer. My birthday and Christmas meant nothing to me that year. Then my friend Wendy’s grandmother died at Christmas. Then my father died the following March. Then his mother died a month later. Then on top of all that, I was forced out of my home by my father’s piece of shit sister since it was now legally hers. So I ended up living with my sister. Those were very dark times.

Did I think about killing myself? You bet, and often. I had nothing really to live for, I was merely existing. I often look back on it all and wonder how I made it. I suppose I never gave up hope that things would get better, and I guess in a way they did. Every time I thought about killing myself, I remembered what I was taught in health class in high school:

Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

It pretty much became my mantra for years, said silently to myself when the voice within became too loud. I had friends, sure, but eventually they all turned out to be a bunch of fakes except one (he knows who he is.) In retrospect they weren’t really worth living for, but it was all I had. Life got better. Life GETS better, that’s why I’m still here.

Those times I entertained the thought, I weighed the pros and cons carefully. It would all be over; all the daily misery, the suffering, the anxiety, the sleeplessness, the fun and games, the sex, the music, the voices within, the noises without. Would it hurt my family? Probably, but I didn’t really care if it did or not. The ones that it would hurt the most were the ones that kept me from doing it, I stayed alive not for myself but for them. They are why I’m still here.

Those times I entertained the thought, I thought about how I’d do it. Pills? Not 100% effective. Guns? Too much of a mess. The answer came to me at work one night. I had an accident where I hit my right shin on a metal guard and ended up cutting open a vein. There was blood everywhere; every beat of my heart brought me closer to oblivion as I watched my life force drain from me. All I wanted was to sleep. All I wanted was to lay down and die. I was so tired. This was the way out, this was how I’d go out. I was taken to the ER and sewn up and drugged. I felt fine the rest of the night thanks to the wonders of modern medicine. Now that I had chosen a how, all I needed was a reason. An impetus for my destruction.

The years have passed since that night and while I have the occasional bad day here and there I still don’t have a reason to do it.  I like to think about it the same as this guy:

I don’t fear death and/or suicide. Whenever I get low I look at it as a very far off option if things don’t get better. They always do so I’m not worried about it. For me a quote from Neil Hilborn illustrates it best, “I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map, but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave.”

I see suicide as an option, especially if you’re terminally ill.  An option that not everyone agrees on, but it’s an option nonetheless.  Do I still wonder why people do it?  Yes and no.  Why they do it is still a mystery, a case by case basis, but I think I have an inkling.  They just feel hopeless, like there’s no escape, like this misery is going to be endless.  But I don’t wonder about it as much because I feel I’ve lived through the why.

Life and Death, part 6

Ever text someone at just the worst possible time?

Yesterday, I asked my friend Alex if he’d like to get something for dinner before he went to work.  His response was something I didn’t expect.

I can’t, I have the girls until I have to leave for work because mom had to make an emergency trip to Canada to see aunt Yvette.  She has lung cancer and it has spread to both breasts and other parts of her body.  She’s opting for doctor assisted suicide at the end of the week.

Ouch.  Needless to say, he’s not taking this news well as after that he was more than a little upset at her decision.  Having witnessed firsthand what cancer does to a person, I feel like she is justified in her decision to end her life while she is still in full control of her faculties.  It’s what I would want were I in her place.  It’s what I will demand if I’m ever in that situation.

I still remember the daily living horror of watching my mother wither away while she had cancer.  Initially she was herself, only sick.  But as the last year of her life went on, the pain became unbearable and the sickness slowly eroded her humanity until what I was looking at from day to day was a husk, a shell of a human being, kept alive by drugs and our selfishness, our inability to let her go peacefully.  Had I had any say in the matter and any level of maturity (I was 17 when she died) I think I would have had that talk with my family about letting her go, whether they liked it or not.  I can still remember her last night at home.  I stood there with my father and watched helplessly as she went through her death throes and finally stopped breathing.  This is the personal hell I endure, that I live with from day to day.  Most of the time the flames don’t bother me, but today I feel their wrath.

My knee jerk reaction to Alex’s disdain for her decision to end her life was a simple question:  who would you be keeping her alive for, her or yourself?  It’s a painful question and not one with an easy answer to say the least but I think it’s one that everyone with a sick and dying relative should think about.

Relationships, part 15


So earlier today, myself and someone close to me were having a heart to heart about family and what that meant to both of us.  If you go to Google and ask it for a definition, you will of course get the traditional definition of ‘parents and children’ and ‘things that are appropriate for both parents and children’ but neither of us were speaking in these narrow terms.

At one point in the conversation, he says to me “I’m at the point where some of these new gay friends I’ve been making feel more like family than my actual family, know what I mean?”  I certainly knew exactly what he meant.  I was overcome with emotion at some of the thoughts I was having after I read his text and was also reminded what mom said to me one day during lunch.  She said that more often than not in her own experience, family wasn’t always someone that was blood.  Family was whoever was there when the chips were down and still had your back.  I agreed with her wholeheartedly.

To me, family is a lot more than a mom, a dad and children.  Family is who’s got your back.  Family is who helps you when you need it no matter what the cost is.  Family is who still loves you at the end of the day no matter what you’ve done or who you are.

After reading his text, I was reminded of one episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race, season 5, where Roxxxy Andrews has her breakdown on stage.  Ru is wearing that weird green dress with one sleeve when she says to Roxxxy “We as gay people, we get to choose our family.”  I can’t even type that sentence without getting choked up.  I didn’t realize it until that moment, but that’s exactly what I’d done.  I had chosen my family since my own family didn’t really want anything to do with me anymore after my parents died.  Ru really hit the nail on the head and hit me right in the emotional breadbasket.  When I watch the show, it makes me feel better to know there are people out there that have gone through the same emotional stuff I have.  It makes me feel closer to the people on the show, hearing about their lives before they got on and what it’s been like for them.  I don’t just watch the show for the fashion and the cat fights, that stuff is just a bonus.  I choose who I let in my family.

We also spoke of having support when coming out.  That was another point at which I was awash with emotion.  I didn’t really have much in the way of support when I came out, at least it didn’t feel like support to me.  Some teasing and definitely some changes in attitude from everyone I knew.  In all the years I’ve talked to other gay men about their life experiences, it’s usually one of three scenarios: your biological family just straight up turns its collective back on you; your biological family already knows and they’re just waiting for you to tell them or your biological family doesn’t care and loves you anyway.  I try to be supportive when I hear that someone is coming out or is on the verge of making the announcement because I remember how alone I felt afterward, how I needed someone to just tell me things were going to be ok.  Support can make all the difference in the world.

Gay people, gay families, are more than just a label.  We’re people with hopes, dreams, fears, needs and wants just like everyone else.  We fear persecution and hatred, we need love and a place of peace to live in, we dream and hope for a better tomorrow and want our voices heard.  We tend to look out for each other more than our hetero counterparts do.  We know the struggle, the hardships we face, and we don’t want anyone else to fall victim to that.  I’d like to think that my chosen family can count on me, that I’m definitely the type that has your back when the chips are down. When it seems like the world is against you, I’ll be your sword and shield.  I’m not afraid to make more enemies, even if that means making an enemy out of a blood relation.

After all, there’s a reason we refer to each other as ‘family’