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.