everywhere I look

everything I see

I get the feeling that

this will all come to me.

in time.

don't rush this Joe,

don't go fast

go steady and secure

today I bought an audio recorder.

I feel that I think it will be easier for me to write my story if I hear myself tell it. so that's the plan. I'm kinda in a weird place where I'm learning about myself and who I am as a sexual person. back in the day I was a whore, nowadays, with Jory, I feel very weird towards him. I think that he is actually the love of my life, and because of that I couldn't share him...nowadays I want to see him sucking a guys cock or, whatever. I'm maturing and, I hope anyway, growing.

 I need to learn how to go slow, in every way of life. Sometimes, no, always, I rush to do things quickly and efficiently, and I guess I do get them done...but, what's the rush? why did I hurry to do the thing I was doing? it's not like I had something else that was so important to do next, because I didn't. at work when I'm done rushing through some task I sit around bored with nothing else to do. so why do I do it?

it kinda doesn't even make sense.

so today, I am going to slow down. I came home from work early yesterday because I was sick as a dog. I had chills and then sweats. thank goodness they let me leave early because I really don't think I would have finished the 7 more hours I had left. so I'm going to try and take things slow. I'm not missing anything amazing, I'm not going to lose or gain anything but more time by rushing through whatever I'm doing.

let's see how I do.

well, today I tried to take things slow, how did it go?

pretty well.

I am now in a space where I'm not doing drugs except for pot and gummies.maybe mushrooms but, not so much. drinking I'm over, it's predictable and boring and I hate who I am when I drink. I'm like, pushy and bossy and kinda stupid. I don't know, I don't like the drunk me. one drink and I'm fine, I have a shot glass I use when I drink, and one shot of vodka, because that's all I can stomach, one shot is perfect for me. I do love San Pelligrino waters, like limonata or blood orange, they are great mixers and you don't get the upset gurgling stomach of juices. 

but when your in a space like I am now where I am not really doing things stronger than pot, but what do you do when you like the feeling of being a little high sometimes?   really, nothing that would make me stupid or hurt myself or another, but just like a little buzz, the kind you get when you throw back your first shot. I mean, I miss the drug days I had where I wasn't high, I guess in a strange way it's like missing the part where the drugs are still in your system but at the last breath, and there's that withdrawal and anticipation of excitement. what a terribly strange thing to say.

I guess that's a part of me that I need to tap into.

the fucked up drug addict whore I was is a million miles away, and now I move on and try to live a normal, happy life.

good luck

in the beginning, there was light OR coming out of the dark

I'm not gonna pat myself on the back for turning into a good guy, all I'm saying is I like the, not new, I guess just changed, for the better, but no, that doesn't really sound very good.

so today I decided will be there day I start writing about who I am, and how I became the guy who I am. it's graphic and its pure, because it's seen through the eyes of a guy who's been through it.

I think that I write the way I talk...I believe that to be true. so I guess I wish I heard myself tell it to know how to write it...

I grew up in a pretty big family. a pretty big close family. my grandmother and grandfather lived in the house to the right of us, and my mothers brother, and my uncle and his wife, aunt dot, lived next door on the other side of us. I was adopted by two of the sweetest people I've ever known. my mother had had 5 miscarriages, and couldn't have kids, so when they adopted me, I was like, the golden child, and they spoiled me rotten.

I think I need to go slow.

when I talk, I talk fast, and it's mumbled because I have a raspy voice, and also I've had to learn to adjust my speaking because I do talk low, except when I'm yelling. my father was deaf, so growing up in the house we were always yelling. Jory thinks I yell now, but that's mostly when we are in bed and I'm telling a story and exaggerating something. I hate when he tells me not to yell...because I'm not really yelling, I'm merely emphasizing something by pitch.

now that's better. I explained the whole reasons why, as I was going. 

so here's the thing.

I have been out of my loop for over a decade now. at the end of my kinda fabulous career that me and only me destroyed by being a drug addict, which by the way was not REALLY my fault because I thought I was dying of AIDS and that accelerated by drug use, but who knows really how I ended up doing the things I've done.

anyway, no matter which angle you choose to look at this debate, I fucked it up, and royally, and I did it all by myself, I'm the Joe Oppedisano way of doing things in a grand manner. it was my fault.

anyway, what I've learned from the world we now live in, a hideous world where a thief, rapist and conman have kidnappped us all and held us at ransom, in a world of Harvey fire steins and George flops is, goddamn it, I was and am an entitled bitch! we all are, all us whites. I had everything literally handed to me on a silver platter, and without hesitation, I took all I could, never thinking or caring who I may have stepped on to get it. it's strange, when your white, you really don't get it. and it helps me understand MAGA idiots who were brainwashed by FOX, I get it, they don't want to lose it, all that that is there if your white. but after all I've been through, I now see, it was and is all a scam. but that's why I now, humbly, try to come back to a place that I actually worked for. I self taught myself how to take photos, and I worked hard at perfecting it. I am not ashamed of any of that hard work, and I think I was in the right place at the right time. that's me, wrapped up in a nutshell.

and that's why I'm here now, right in the right place at the right time. I'm in an amazing relationship, I'm in a secure place with my man, home and dog, but I miss that part of who I was, and I use was because that person is so far away from who I am now, and I miss it. I miss the way it feels to be in control of a creative process. how it's everything everywhere all at once mixed, stirred and combined to create something you love. this is what I miss, and now is my time to try and get a part of it back.

some days are tougher than others. some days my anxiety peaks at 5 am and starts my body twitching and wandering and awake, going in a panicked state from one thing to the next, no reason or rhyme, just manic and up and down in bed turning over constantly, making the bed a mess and making my mind even messier.

until he awoke.

I tell him all my fears and he says "come lay here" in his arms, and I go with the flow because I know I am in good arms and good hands. all my worries,,  all my fears, in a second are gone, and I'm thankful and I feel calm.

I know how lucky I am.

I do, and I'm thankful and supportive and all about my man.

he's the greatest guy I ever met.

he's my daddy, he's my man.

 

what do I want

what exactly do I want

that's such a great question. I've had ideas through the years, but in those years I had no resources, or actual any way to actually produce something. being crafty as I am I did make a side project out of my textile and photographic background, and had a line of scarves produced for the  Oklahoma Art Museum.

 I'll expand on that with visuals, and move on to the subject at hand.

what do I want.

I see it as more of a period at the end than a question mark, because it embodies so much of me...of the me that I was and miss terribly. I feel a million miles away from who I used to be, because of location, because of means. but now I'm kinda sorta at the place in my life where I am mentally stable enough and financially stable enough, to dust off those heels and return, somewhere, to the me I used to be.

so again...what do I want.

I envision a product that is something the kids these days never really experienced. newspapers, newsprint.

in my F.I.T. collage days, we fashionistas in the making would run to get the latest W Magazine, because it opened up as big as a standard paper, and inside were the most fabulous full color double page ads for Chanel, Gucci, Calvin Klein, and we would tear them out and throw them up as art on the walls. 

that's kinda what I want, it's more like where this whole thing should start.

I want it to be accessible, affordable, but at the same time a luxury. I want the visuals to be all that's said. but there again I'm open to suggestion.

it sounds like a good start, but then again, I'm never sure.

should it be a practical book?

no, that's too boring.

young gay guys these days have to learn about things from the past. the gay past is essential to know, that of the AIDS  epidemic, ACT UP, and the nightmare of coming out...Stonewall. it's important, and essential to understand and to grow. this is my way of giving them a glorious thing from the past in a slick modern way.

what I want is a product that shines a light on the past, yet is inspirational and gorgeous and slick and fun and hot and sexy and artistic and just wonderful gay images larger than life, displayed on a wall.

 that would be the ultimate for me,  to know that my work maybe even just brightens ones day, or inspired or turned on, or, made them cum.

I want them to touch it, feel it, feel the smudged ink on their fingers. smell the ink. it's a thing that touches so many senses. 

this is one idea of how I see, what I want. 

I think it's achievable, I think it's going to be a lot of work, but I think it will be worth it.

I like the newsprint idea a lot.

I think it's fresh.

I see this in Provincetown by next july, and I see it selling out.

this is my dream, this is my hope.

and this in print now solidifies my desire to see this through.

it's weird how it feels when you finally realize that this is a version of you, that you really like. and love. and that certainly is a great way to live.

that's when I started to notice how all the little things I needed to happen in life, were actually coming together. it's been years in the making, and finally it feels like its being fulfilled. now I have some cash in my hand and I can afford to try and salvage something of my life. I'm at last in a good place with a great man, an amazing family has been formed, and it's something I never saw coming, but I am sure glad it hit me when it did. I swear I don't believe in praying n shit, I mean, that veil has been shed and religion and me is now only about artistic style and my love of pageantry. I remember when I was receiving Sunday school lessons from my fat disgusting old balding man priest who said that surely you would go to heaven if you confessed your sins! even if you were a murderer you could be saved! the only way, this fat balding beast said, is if your gay, then you go straight down to hell!

fuck her

I knew then that this was all bullshit, said never again, but of course I did make confirmation, KNOWING full well that I was an evil sinner who was most definitely going to hell.

 I feel excitement when I think of what may be. I'm not sure where I'm going but it's definitely in a good place, from where I was and I keep saying I put it away yet I'm the only one who still brings it up!

and why!??

to make me do the same shit as I done before and, but the difference is, this time, I have a goal. and that goal is to figure out, where I belong, cause I've been lost for a very long time.

welcome back

                                         And just like that...

in the wink of an eye all my worries and sorrows disappeared, and I found myself somehow, more confident than before but maybe, just maybe, this time would be for real, and the past would be kept as just a distant, semi-fond memory in my ever scattered mind. All the things I always feared, the things that made me cower in daylight always feeling like a fraud and never having security in a mess of a life, but again, that's behind me. what's in front of me I still have yet too find.

who I am turning out to be is a guy I never imagined I could be. I guess I always considered myself a good guy, never really did any harm, but when you're 6 and you know you like boys, you learn to hide and not be the thing you've heard about, and never be the true you! never, no! except somebodies hair dresser! but then again, never good. so when you're hiding as a kid, it tells you try every trick in the book to maybe cast an illusion of doubt in their still not so well informed minds. and I couldn't butch it up, I didn't know how. be a man!? how those words used to torture me! because I was not the butchest queen you've ever seen, I was a lisping effeminate, sissy boy, and I was very much very obviously gay. even though my aunt Margaret profess, she had no idea!

anyway, and now, now I'm the man I've been self groomed to be, with the guidance and mentoring of the man that I love, who has taught me how to relax, be taken serious, and how to restart my life, with self worth and pride. All the things I've seen, are all my ghosts who I live with every day...but they are MY PAST, and now mi'm a different guy than I was before. I'm still the same, but I've grown up and taken a long hard look at where I was going and who I was then, and now I look forward.  I guess it's my own private form of ptsd. I get flashbacks and chills up my spine, but these days the shock doesn't last as long as it used to and it doesn't really fuck me up as it did. it did a few weeks ago, my boyfriend thought I was having a stroke...but no. 

I was fine.

I'll be fine.

I am fine.

and I am happy to be back.

time to try, time to fly

 i feel kinda like a little baby bird who stands on a strand of hay in my nest, waiting anxiously to make my jump and fly into the sky. i'm nervous, i'm excited, i'm wondering if, what if i don't make it...or, wtf am i doing...but it stands, i stand, on the precipice of possibly, maybe, hopefully getting something of my old self back. it's been years and it's been hard. with confidence gone from my accident to slowly and kinda surely getting some of it back, i feel nervous and nauseous and skittish all the time.

could it be?

where am i going and how do i get there?

what am i doing, and how should i do it.

i know theres something there, i'm sure of it as a mater of fact, but how do i put all the pieces of this puzzle back into place so that something makes sense.

i have a barand. now, what exactly is it and how the fuc do i market it?

to infinity, and beyond...

Chapter Fourteen;

To Infinity, and Beyond...

After a few long summer months of what seemed like endless days turned into never ending nights, he realized that there was something missing in his life. it was something he had almost probably taken for granted, because it didn't actually seem like it played such a major part in his day, but in fact, it was the one small thing that let everything around him come together in one or two simple run on sentences.

He felt almost relieved when he finally just sat and he knew that it was this very thing that he needed, missed, and yearned for, because it just came back flowing through him like it always did. his mind seemed to relax. his heart slowed down it's beat, his brain seemed to put up ladders and started to climb up to build the structure it had abandoned a few months prior. he was back. home. and everything seemed right again. 

He thought back for a moment and tried to remember what exactly had made him stop, and it made him shudder when he realized the very person who had given him so much grief over this passion, this thing that made him feel complete and gave him closure to most of the uphill winding slippery sloped insanity he somehow survived daily, was also the one person who, after all these years, was out of his life. and it all made sense. this guy was supposed to protect him. but this guy never lifted a finger to do anything except take and manipulate. but the witch was dead, ding dong, and so, he could finally move forward, 
and ahead. the skies right now looked dreary, but there, up ahead, he swore he saw a break in the clouds, and maybe even a beam of light was trying to break through...

...and in the distance he saw a shooting star as it fell to earth, and he understood then, that maybe his star had fallen from the galaxy it once ruled, and maybe he was not the same bright shiny young burst of energy that he once was, but he knew also that he could soar the skies again, and this time, he just may light up the skies, to infinity and beyond...

we now return you to your regularly scheduled show...

the moral of the story is...

and so the moral of the story is...

It was very funny indeed...

it made perfect sense, 

of course it did!

it's the very thing he had been taught at the very young age of 1 when he was shown the difference between good and bad. he was shown right from wrong. and he was also schooled in the necessary rules of you win some, ya loose some. it's never ever going to always be in your court. the ball has to bounce back and forth so that everyone gets a fair share.

it was that easy.

but it took so many difficult and tedious trials and errors to understand it fully.

but now, he thinks he did.

At the end of the day, even if you lost the tournament...

even if your team came in second,

even if everything you wanted was flushed down the toilet...

in the end, if you were still right next to the one you loved,

and if they still looked at you with that look that never judges, never demands, but always glistens,

then...

you are a very lucky man...

And they lived happily ever after...

THE END

and the world was a more beautiful. loving, caring, giving place, for the rest of eternity!

j/o & Buddy

If

Janet Jackson - If






if everything i've done thus far
means anything to anyone, anywhere,
could i please get half a break, because,
i'm sinking, and drowning fast.
i never ask for anything, but always give everything.
i want not a lot
but get not a lot either.
i don't think that it seems tpoo much to ask the world for a second chance,
because i never did anything to hurt anyone,
i planted flowers, hoped they'd grow,
i helped my friends and dreamed real big,
had some success, and yet, never came up on top,
never felt fulfilled.
never made enough money to save a dime,
and now,
it's time to step up to the plate,
accept responsibility for everything
put aside my inhibitions,
step forward, and up to the plate...
because if not,
it's over soon,
without debate.

laying brick

The legendary Hollywood story 

goes something like this...

Lana Turner walks into a soda shop back in the day, fresh off the bus from somewhere, wherever it was, but fresh faces and gorgeous, innocent and eager to make something of herself in a world of fantasy and fabulosity...until, at the soda-bar, sipping a root beer float, a Hollywood agent sees her, and the rest is history...the girl next door becomes the shining star of her generation.

ya never know when you walk into any room, on any day, in any situation, what may happen and what change it may take in your life, for the rest of your life.

this was one of those days.

to be continued...

to catch a thief

 

something interesting happens when you discover that you've been caught in a twisted lie...you try and retract and retell, which in turn makes you have to re-think and remember what you had said originally 

which you won't recall, ever, exactly, so you say something, thinking that you are saying the thing you had said in the first place, but, in your head, you have also, unconsciously, exaggerated and added bits and pieces of the story to cover the things that don't sound right, even in your own mind, so...you want to make it better, and sound more truthful, so, the story you told at the beginning becomes sloppy and in turn, spotlights the lie you told at the start...and if you had just said the truth, then there would be no reason to ever lie, because if you tell the truth, there's no reason or need to go back in time and have to recall, because your subconscious can recall precisely second by second what happened, because it actually happened, and it needs no justification, because it's true and does not NEED to try, because it IS real. it ACTUALLY happened. THAT way. not this way or that way, but the way it naturally would because it makes makes sense, it however, does not make sense the way you said it when you lied because things just DON'T HAPPEN that way.

understand?

so don't think, even for a second, that i'm stupid.

because the very idea that you think i'm stupid, would mean that you think you are smarter than me, to which all i can say to you is...i don't think so.

    

so... i'll say it AGAIN!!!!!

i've said it before...
apparently no one was listening, so...
i'll say it AGAIN!!!!!

it is still one of the biggest growing problems in the gay community,
and no one else seems to be addressing it...
it's the alarming rate of inconsideration that happens when some gay men use social media, aka, Manhunt etc.,  and instead of using it for it's intended purpose (i.e. hooking up) they instead use it to just use up electricity, waiting and not checking their mail for days, and then responding with nothing interesting to say...
or then they send you a message that says they are looking for now...and when you say, ok...i'm ready, let's go, address? they all of a sudden don't get back to you for several hours, meaning that when they were looking for "now" they really meant they were maybe, possibly, if nothing better came along, hoping to maybe, kinda-sorta-if-and-then-but-whatever...they aren't really looking for anything in particular, but will annoy you till the end of time until someone who they think could possibly be "better" "hotter" or "more hung..." comes along.
faggots, get a grip.
first of all, you are insane, because it is such a waste of time, (so why do i still do it?) and the guys never look as good as the best photos they have of themselves...get it?
even if they were just as hot, maybe hotter, the idiotic questions they bombard you with, like, who's your orthopedic surgeon...make no sense, and mean nothing in regard to what they are on there for.
then there are the guys who live in Taiwan that email you, just cuz. thanks u think i'm "hot" but, ok, i'm on, i'm looking for now, i wanna get laid already!


men, the time is now to be what you think you are, which is MEN, and start acting like that thing you want, expect, demand the other "men" you're trying to hook up with and be.

it's a sad day when it takes 6 hours to get laid by someone who lives down the street, who you never before even looked at, cruised of wanted, but just need to blow a load.

back on track

...around the middle of the next day, it was apparent that he had gotten a grip on himself, and was ready to take the next needed steps to get beyond the dark place he had been in for months. it wasn't actually dark, more like gray, but gray wasn't his color, he was more of a fluorescent kinda guy, and wasn't afraid of the bright lights he had grown accustomed to being in since he was a kid. it's hard to be a child prodigy, especially one that is given so much at such a young age, by people who were at the very top of their game. with that kind of permission from such higher ups, it was easy to take the reins and go faster than he should have, but he wasn't one to slow down...he loved running in the fast lane, and when he raced, he usually won...no one could catch up, or even give him any kind of competition...and the wind felt so good in his hair, when he had it, that he just ran, head held high, and let the path take it's course. but he had gotten sidetracked, gone down a wrong path a few years back, and that path wasn't one that he could run without stumbling, tripping or falling down. he had lost his breath going uphill, and had to stop many times, and try and catch his breath. but that path also taught him a lot about how to survive, how to pace himself, and how to give himself a break when he needed one. but the break had lasted longer than expected, and he had grown a little lazy, taken for granted his speed, and agility, and was out of shape to run any marathons right now...he needed to get himself back up, brush off the dirt he had accumulated from the spills he had taken, and get back on course.
he was ready to run.
he was ready to leap, soar and fly.
he was ready, and he knew that when the people in the bleachers saw him all of a sudden speed past the front runner and leave them in his dust, they would be happy to have him back...
it wasn't a comeback, for he had been there for years, but when he returned, to his glory, he felt sure that he would never look back.
only forward.
and from that moment on, when he felt the blood run through his veins and his heart race, he knew that it was on.
in his head, he heard the shot go off, and that very instant, a breeze came, blowing...
and he took off and didn't look back.
ever.

the day after

by the time he woke up, everything had changed.
the rain had stopped.
the sun was shining.
the sky was clear, a deep blue without one cloud.
his body wasn't aching,
his eyes weren't red from crying,
his heart was singing...
he was shocked and surprised,
and relieved.
what a difference a day makes, he thought,
hmm, i guess that old saying was true.

it was all in the past,
and now, he continue on his journey to a better place,
but the past wouldn't be forgotten,
just used as a "what not to do ever again" exercise in life.

lesson learned.
and learned...the hard way!