Yes!

Yes. Question, “Yes”; Question, “Yes”; Question, “Yes”. His yes’ are my favorite! They come in rapid fire repetition without hesitation or reticence; as if he had been waiting a lifetime to answer so. . . And then he smiles like a ripe watermelon; juicy, wide, broken open, and delicious. I want to dig in with both hands, eat my fill, and save the seeds for the coming years. You know what they say about black people and watermelon! But what do they say about bi-boys in boxers? I guess that’s what I need to figure out; or maybe not. . .

Perhaps this time I’ll just enjoy: Visit comic book stores; Tease film choices; Eat Thai food; Play in the rhythms of conversations that go from the metaphysical to the mundane and back to the blood born, Contemplate the construction of a masculine friendship that could actually mean something; and Explore the digital intimacies of twitter, flickr, texts, and blogs! Perhaps this time I’ll just laugh with the person sharing the breath of the moment, without having to know “Why?” or “For how long?”

I'm comfortable with this. I'm comfortable with him. And I’ll be comfortable with whatever will be created.

Three years in the making, and who knew we were missing out? But then again I don’t believe in coincidence. . . I am a devotee of Order; a prayer to the Divine Design. I tend to deconstruct the structure of even random happenstance, just to know how it was made . . . but this time I don’t care! I'm going to learn a lesson in his yes’ and just take things as they are, linger less on the labels, and learn to go with the flow; Say yes to his concepts of Chaos and see God in a different way. I want to pay attention to how he treats me, listen to what he is needing, and offer what I can. I want to tickle his ribcage, kiss the taste of tobacco, and just be silly with someone my own age . . .

I’m so over complications: top and bottom, straight and gay, boyfriends and friends, intellect and intimacy, disease and disclosure, right and wrong, should be and could be, either-or. This is about integration! And saying yes in rapid fire repetition until no’s are no longer necessary, because there is nothing left to fear. This is about eating watermelon until the flavor engulfs your mouth; and the juices flow down your chin; and you are so lost in the pleasure of the moment, that you never notice that the seeds have flowered, the vines have twined, and you stand in a beautiful patch of living green that has grown wild and free around you.

I use to be a creature of conflict and dichotomies; of confrontation and discord. But lately I’ve been hanging with this guy from Long Beach who opens my door for me AND talks like my best friend. . . and for now that’s good enough for me.

Duplicity

I collect pretty boxes: Beautiful, brilliant, charming, generous, noble boxes that nurture my spirit and validate the essence of my soul. A kaleidoscope of colors and shapes in various depths and personalities filled with magical substances designed to reflect the mercurial nature of my personal evolution. The boxes are all the same. Masterfully crafted from rare and preciouse minerals like: carbon, air, and sodium; each intricately unique, meticulously made, and priceless in the construction of their structure. I want to find them all. To meet as many versions of myself as my mind could hope to endure, before it collapses upon itself, and no longer recognizes itself as itself. Because by each I am profoundly changed; and daily made anew. The content of each container keeps me curious to find the next. . . But there is only one box: one source of satisfaction and insight; one fraction of the whole; one love; one collector searching for one object to collect. It’s the illusion of multiplicity that keeps us lost in the confusion of insecurity; Screaming: nothing is ever enough, no one is ever the one, we are not like them, and I just don’t feel connected. We are trapped. Confined. Constricted by our limited sense perceptions into thinking that: “I am alone, and I need another pretty box.” But the truth is that there is only one box. There is only one thing. There is only one consciousness. Everything is the same. He and she and her and him, are all you and I. So the love is never lost. It is always there. It has always been there, and it will always be. Just close your eyes and breathe. . .

God

God is Life
God is Love
God is Me
God is You