it's just gross what is out in the internet.
why was i looking at it in the first place you ask?
i was doing research.
this is my job, i'm sorry if it offends you,
but really,
on the internet?!
higher than a mutherfucker...
i'm still stuck on nicki.
twinkle twinkle little star...
sending the book out in full layout.
october relase date.
im scared.
scared? no, frightened.
no...
freaking out.
yea, thats it.
as i anticipate the next few months,
i understand i must be clear, intelligent, and wise.
no more thinking the old way.
it's time to do it the right way.
not higher than a mutherfucker.
starships were meant to fly,
enter, and touch the sky.
not barrel down the runway in flames.
time is right.
time is now.
book,
check.
video,
check...
maybe.
i am titanium.
u shoot me down...
but i aint going down.
i am titanium.
i love nicki minaj.
i love everything about her.
her hopes, her dreams, her lyrics, her look.
that look.
i live.
makes u feel the boom badoom boom bass
she makes me smile.
i love her on interviews.
i live for her, evry second of the day.
starships?
were meant to fly!
amazing.
but super bass....
superbass is a song for the world.
everyone can relate.
in 100 years, u'll still be hearing it.
the dark days are done.
the clouds cleared,
the sunlight beams through the last haze that remain.
as i wake,
i yawn,
stretch, and sip coffee,
remembering how hideous i had once felt.
how i don't want to feel like that again,
yet...
without pain and misery,
can there be true happiness? can you know greatness
without experiencing failure? i hope i'm done experimenting.
i really do.
today, when i've had nothing to say,
i feel myself, inside, astray.
guilty pleasure pours from me
while writing so poetically,
it makes me seem,
it makes me feel,
it keeps me tight,
i'm made of steel.
so today with nothing more to say,
i say adu,
goodbye,
good day.
the fact is i had no idea this would be happening, yesterday,
my views of self perception seem,
to make me see i'm not so lean...
although i eat everything that i can see
is that whats made this pig of me?
i never tried
i never thought
i never knew
i always fought
the perception that i'd see of me,
was one of poise and dignity,
but i see now, i was misunderstood,
thinking all the time that i looked good! today i did it,
that awful thing,
i sucked my gut in
so that the kids couldn't see,
my fat belly protruding over
no belt, so jeans i was tripping over,
my gut was huge
i couldn't let
them see the pig i am,
and then they'd get
that smirk, that glow
they could say about me,
"he's that big fat guy
sucking in so i can't see,
his big fat belly, protruding oh so glamerously!"
i stopped,
i stammered,
i rose, then fell,
i had gone, no detours,
all the way to hell.
and there i was
a big fat pig...
his gut his thighs, his chins, his big
fat tremendous amounts of skin,
then i stood back,
perplexed,
where the hell had i just been?
i looked down,
took a breath,
threw my head back,
and then guesses,
i'd put on more
than i needed to,
so now it's time,
get back in check,
cause presentation,
is where it's at.
what goes around comes around.
and around,
and around.
i thought i was finally over, past, and moved on
from my wicked evil, distrustful ex, chris raucci...
until i got a text today,
from a friend,
(who he cheated on me with)
just another lie...
nothing to really hate my friend over,
he's just an idiot...
but he said he ran into the young mr. unreliable.
apparently, nothing in his life has changed.
he's still living the high life
on someone else' drugs,
cheating, lying, stealing, and, well, breathing.
that's the one i can't deal with
is the breathing part.
ugh.
i know i'm over him,
so why do i still wanna ring his neck whenever i think of him?
if i didn't still care,
would i still have even feelings of hideous torture being committed on his lifeless soul? whew,
maybe i'll just be greatful he's outta my life.
thank god.
and so, i know, i am, my own man.
with or without that mess!
it's the edge of 17 again for me.
the edge of the cliff that i feel ready to jump off
and fly high.
there's no turning back,
no looking back,
only forward and ahead...
there's no meaning to the word failure in my vocabulary.
there's not any more chances,
anymore trying,
anymore almost,
only one option i see,
and it's straight ahead in plain sight.
i can taste it.
i can touch it.
the universe has spiraled me up, down and all around so many times.
leaving me with a book of knowledge that is specific to me.
you have your own,
we all do.
so now it's the time,
the place,
the moment,
to make it happen.
no more "next time..."
theres this time,
this is it.
cause starships were meant to fly,
enter, and touch the sky
can't stop cause i'm so high...
Midnight,
in the garden of good and evil.
i've been up all day,
didn't get a minute of sleep last night,
and now, after a two hour nap,
i feel once again rested.
but the daunting task of finishing my book
is not yet over.
the publisher isn't completely happy.
they like the hardcore images,
although not too hardcore...
the pictures i believe to be the most amazing
visually and artistically,
are to be edited out due to their violent nature.
shockingly enough,
germany has a law against such images...
the country that gave us the most horrifying crimes to humanity,
is the same one that now doesn't allow a photo of a man pissing,
or even a shot of a man playfully pretending to commit suicide.
that may sound interesting,
the playful suicide bit,
but in reality, the fact is,
artistic freedom and expression,
are being compromised.
there is nothing so hideously cruel or unusual in these images
that they should be excluded.
and if so, if they are edited out,
doesn't that mean that my freedom is being violated? or is it just that i have been raised in a society
to think that i am above the law in such issues?
i don't think i'm crossing any lines,
no one was ever hurt when being photographed,
and the vision in my head was never to make light of violence,
instead, it was to show, in a world of men,
what different ones do to get off.
i once dated a new york city cop,
big hot blonde dude,
huge cock, thick, muscled, intimidating.
once, i was sucking him off, and trying my best to deepthroat him,
while he seduced me with his moans and coaxed my head down,
i felt secure and in love,
until in an instant,
he pulled out his cock and shoved in a pistol.
the cold metal of the gun and the situation i was now in,
presented me with the shocking conclussion my body had,
as i came instantly.
there were no bullets in the gun,
there was no real great fear,
but the excitement and exotic thrill,
sent me over the edge.
does that make me sick?
perhaps.
but it was an uncontrollable force that i had nothing to do with.
my brain did that, and showed me that extremes can be erotic.
so, where does that leave me?
where do i start to disagree and discard the fear of my publisher? how do i present my view and vision
without these images that i believe are so important to the book as a whole?
where do i take this and to what court?
back in the day,
when the economy was good,
when people had money to spend,
when Gucci was not yet hip again,
when clubs in New York had style and amazing energy,
when Paris is Burning was playing for extended play at the Angelica,
when the Angelica was still cool,
when Times Square was still grungy,
when club kids ruled the world,
when special K was easy to find,
when ecstasy was the drug of choice,
when Frankie Knuckles was crossing over from amazing dj to Grammy award winning producer,
when Junior Vasquez ruled the dance floor,
bur before he was evil when his drugs were bad that night and he'd decide to play shitty music,
when Madonna would hang out at clubs in NYC just to get inspired,
but before she got inspired to record Vogue, one night at Sound Factory,
and before George Bush ruined what we now call the United States...
there was a magical place on west 28th street in Manhattan,
an old warehouse that was gutted, painted black, and inside, was installed the worlds finest speakers.
speakers that were state of the art,
speakers that made the music sound 3D.
and they played music...
music that was not recorded digitally,
music that was inspired from the kids,
music that was created in the streets,
music that you were able to dance to.
music that is still legendary.
music.
that's what it's really all about.
junior vasquez ruled the world.
this was his hay day.
this was where he lived every weekend, from saturday night
till sunday afternoon.
he'd sweat (not just from the X),
he'd laugh as he watched the crowd scream,
he'd dance,
he'd be what God put him on this earth to be...
a legendary dj.
one who could take a crowd of 8,000 club personalities and transform them into his puppets,
pulling the strings as they moved to his beat.
his nights at sound factory were what stories are still being gossiped about.
he was god.
he was working with Madonna...
how many people can say that?
until one night, when his phone rang, and he wasn't home.
the caller was madge, better known as madonna herself.
when no one answered, madge left a message.
it was simple.
"junoior, it's madonna...call me in miami."
junior, thinking he was on top of the world,
and thinking that his shit didn't stink,
decided to take that very phone message,
and make it into a song,
and then...
to all of our shocked and ecstasy'd out bodies,
about 7am when the club was just getting good,
he played it.
the queens gagged,
the chelsea queens even stopped screamed,
the voguers vogued and laughed in hysterics,
the club kids carried on,
the club and everyone of us
was part of the joke.
someone had made madonna look foolish,
why?
for no reason...
she was at her top of her world,
junior was being a cunt,
and the feud began.
i wonder if the guy who invented the camera ever dreamed that one day people would be taking pictures of explicit gay porn with his nifty little devise.
or what about the guy who invented moving pictures...
he probably is turning over in his grave knowing that now, people can get on a cam and expose their entire lives...
nothing is sacred.
everyone's a porn star...
everyone's a star.
living upstate has taken its toll on me sexually, for, when i am upstate, i don't dare even think of getting laid in he normal sense...like, actually meeting, fucking in real time, real touches, real ecstasy.
there's no one here, there's nothing nor no one to do...
so, i resort to Skype, my new best friend.
on Skype, a whole new world has opened up for me.
it, like living in New York for decades, makes it easy to have friends of all races, creeds, types, styles, etc., all over the world.
people come on and you can talk to them, like they were right next to you, in Australia, Peru, wherever.
the world got smaller.
but not small enough so that these conversations become anything more than just that, conversations, mostly while stroking your cock.
and the people you meet are not just ordinary people from down the block...well, actually they are, that's why it's all so scary. the most normal ones are also the ones who turn out to be the biggest perverts...the most extreme fantasies and made up profiles. they each become whatever they like to or wish to, be.
and the thing is, they are everywhere.
all over the world, Cam4 makes it easy to watch the world as a soap opera, you check in with your favorites, see whats up, and what outfit they have or had on, tell them to stroke, show ass, whatever...but its a universal thing, and no one seems to care anymore.
which makes me wonder...
if we are here now, already, where and what and how will we be expressing ourselves in another hundred years.
you think it's easy being me?
well, you don't know the half of it...
imagine a world where nothing is what it seems
and everything is there for the taking,
yet when you reach out to grab it,
it poofs into air like a cloud,
disappearing.
leaving you empty,
alone,
grabbing at air,
unable to get a hold of anything
unable to grasp what just happened,
unable to cope with life without what you almost had.
the things you think are guaranteed
are gone before you know it.
the things you thought were too good to be true,
always were,
cause they always are just that.
the looks you see on everyone else' face
are ones of amazement
for they knew it all along,
and can't believe you just fell for it,
again.
when will he learn? they wonder...
why is he such a fool?
but a true fool never knows he should stop looking, reaching, hoping...
for then,
what if...
just maybe,
one day...
