Tattoos

People always seem to ask me what my tattoos mean so here goes:


My dead ex of blog post #1 had a tattoo below his belly button that he got to symbolize conquering fears. I have this weird illogical thing about knives, he had this weird illogical thing about spiders. We both figured it was a past life thing. Anyway, after he died and I was still having euphoric recall (that ended quickly after I stopped drinking), I decided to commemorate him with my first tattoo since he had such an impact on my life. I liked the concept of his tattoo, but wasn't all that keen on the placement, so I got a similar one on my left arm. I lived with it for a year and decided then that it just didn't feel complete. So I went to a different artist and he came up with the surrounding flowers/web idea, fitting as it was meant to be a tribute to someone, but not overtly so. He surrounded the dagger and spider with 4 black roses and a red spider web, giving the first tattoo a frame of sorts.

I waited another year and decided that I wanted something nodding to my Irish heritage, but not a cheesy Celtic cross or some crap like that. I wanted script. I started thinking that my  first tattoo was symbolic of fear. So what should I get? Fearless?  That didn't seem quite right. My partner Peter said "Courage" because it is acting despite your fears, living with them and acting anyway. Not being fearless, because no one is fearless. We all have fear, and it takes courage to act despite the fear. So combining "Courage" with script in Gaelic, i got the tattoo on my inner bicep that reads "misneach", Gaelic for "courage".

The next tattoo on my right shoulder I wanted to be something of a nod to where I grew up in Bucks County , Pennsylvania. I remembered as a kid we had a Pennsylvania Dutch hex sign in our basement, and would see them around the rural areas here and there. I decided to research a little and look at various designs...Most involved roosters, bundles of grain and things like that meant to encourage an abundant harvest. Eventually I stumbled on one that was two-fold. It was meant to ward off evil spirits and invoke prosperity. I took it to my  tattoo artist and he stylized it slightly, but it basically looks like the image I originally found. No evil so far. I'm working on the prosperity part.
My most recent tattoo is the skull and additional flowers on my lefty shoulder above the spider/dagger/web/flower combo I had for a while. Wanting to keep with the theme on my left arm of fears I want to face head on, death seemed like a biggie. Also, my partner Peter has a real love of the Mexican holiday Day of the Dead and has several tattoos of skulls and skeletons already. Again I had the idea to combine these 2 elements into the skull, as a nod to Peter, the one I'm with and love, and also as a way to own my fear of death and not be ruled by it. I could have gotten "Peter" written somewhere on me, but then we probably would have broken up a month later. That's the rule of name tattoos. Get one if you want to end a relationship. ;-)

So that's the summary of what my tattoos mean, and how I chose to get each one. I'm not sure when or if I will get another. My right shoulder where the hex sign is feels a little naked, so if I get one, I will probably add to this area. Note sure yet. I do know that each tattoo has revealed itself as the one I should get next. Each one was  clear. There wasn't a question or a wonder. It was a definite. That's probably why I still love each one, and why the next should hold meaning to me as much as the previous. I like that they mean something to me, but don't scream it out to the world when others see them.  They are for me. Not for you. And I love them.

-CL

Friendship Evolution

It took me a long-ass time to stop chasing after relationships with people. I would "target" certain people that I wanted to be friends with, or I would cling to friendships that had drifted, and pursue them, thinking that eventually the relationship would be established or saved. Here's the thing - if I was chasing a relationship, that means whoever I was chasing was running away from me, not toward me. Once I started seeing it that way, it wasn't worth pursuing those people.

I learned the hard way when a friendship/roommate I had had for 3 years just seemed to stop and I couldn't understand why. They just moved on, and now I rarely speak to that person. I was really really hurt by this. it's not like anything had changed, or I had done something to end it. It just stopped. Something clicked in this person's head and he stopped wanting to be my friend. In a weird way I was devastated, in a tangible way I was pissed. But there wasn't anything to be done, but move on.

It's interesting now when I look at this person and see who he chooses to surround himself with, and just the level of himself he puts out there, I don't want to be his friend. He's not someone I have any further interest in knowing. He doesn't like anything that I like, and his friends are not my friends. He served his purpose in my life and now that part is done. I served my purpose in his, whatever that might have been for him.

It was on my 36th birthday when I realized how to see who my  real friends were. My relatively new boyfriend (now my partner) helped point this out when I was having one of my "i don't have any good friends" moments. He pointed out who was showing up for me, and who wasn't. He said I should pay attention to the people that show up, whether it is for something light or something heavy, for fun or for comfort. See who listens. See who is interested. Not who is interesting. Whomever is interested is someone who wants to be closer, and THEY are worth the effort.

I started doing this and the friendship filter turned on. My "picker" wasn't broken anymore. I could see who was someone I wanted in my life easier. Some people never, and I mean NEVER asked me anything about me, they would just go on and on about them and their day and their problems and their concerns, and that's fine. Doesn't mean I don't like them, it just means I'm not investing time in that person as a serious friend.

I don't have this pressing need to be heard mind you (despite the fact that I am now "a blogger"). I actually don't like talking about myself all that much. But when I do need to talk about myself or something going on, I want to know who I can call who will call back. Through trial and error over the years I've figured that out. And over time it'll need to be figured out again. I don't know who will move on. I don't know if I'll move on. People evolve. Lives and priorities change. Friendships end gradually most of the time, not suddenly, and it's not personal, it's normal.And  normal can hurt.

 I don't think of myself as a particularly good friend. I think I'm alright. I do know what I am good at though, and that's listening to the ones that need me to. I absolutely love it. Love It. when people feel they  can trust me. I don't gossip. I don't violate a confidence or a trust. Their information is not mine to spread. I try to be the friend I want. And with careful scrutiny and a listening eye, those are the friendships I now have. And I'm grateful.

Fear and Loathing

First and foremost, thank you everyone who has emailed and spoken to me in person with such positive feedback for this young blog. It really means a lot to me...

Which opens the door to what I am writing about tonight...FEAR! I'm out to prove to myself the old quote "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself", and I must say that I think that ol' Franklin Roosevelt knew what he was talking about.

Back when I first moved to LA, I was ready to start over. I came out here to clean up my act and begin a new life. I had lived in fear for so many years. Fear of success, fear of failure, fear of risk-taking, fear of crowds, fear of the "hot" guys I would see (they'd never be interested in me), fear of change, fear of things staying the same...Fear of all things that involved me choosing, deciding, being accountable for my own life. I was afraid of my own decisions, my own taste. I was convinced that my ideas were bad ones, my choices were the wrong ones, and my decisions would only lead me to more problems... I got really fucking sick of myself.

So with a new setting, a new clear-headed mindset with the drink and other activities removed from my life, I started over with the determination to not make any fear-based decisions anymore. To take contrary action to what my fear was telling me. To recognize that fear is a feeling. It's not a fact. It's a sensation based entirely on expectation and not at all in the tangible, logical world.

My first set of fears was in making friends. who would want to know me? what do I bring to the table? they won't be interested in anything I have to say.... all things my head would plug into the back of my mind when I would enter a room full of possibilities. I was sad, insecure and full of self doubt. I'm ugly, I'm boring, I'm a bad person. I'm skinny. I'm naive. I'm gross. I'm too tall. I'm bad i'm bad i'm bad.... I'm... I'm not listening is what I'm doing.   I learned not to turn the self doubt off. It's actually still there. A lot, and flares up like a bad rash now and then...But I forced myself to ignore it. To ignore that twisted nervous feeling in my stomach.

I started playing the scenario forward. OK, so whats the worst that could happen if you went up and said hello? Chances are they won't point and laugh. They'll probably say hello back. AAAAAAHHHHH! Be AFRAID!!!! Ok. whew. So they say hello back..then what???!? I know, I'll say "I'm Chris" and stick out my hand, then say "Whats your name?"... and guess what? A conversation will start. It might be great. I might be awkward as hell... It might end there with them rudely turning around... ok so there. done. even if they  turn around and ignore me from then on, how bad would that be?  Was I injured? OK insulted a little maybe, but they're a stranger. It's not like my mother turned her back on me. THAT would hurt...Luckily she's a nice lady.

So I started with this basic approach of asking myself to picture the worst case reality-based scenario, and could I handle it?  Most of the time the answer was yes, especially when it applied to social fears. Most people I found WANT to be known. They want people to be curious about them. They want people to ask them about them. I mean think about it - if someone came up to you and asked about you, your day, what you like, your job, your hobbies, whatever... That's kind of nice right? Most people I have found are willing to talk when it's about them. So I started listening. I started knowing. I started learning. I started hearing ideas. And then the weirdest thing started to happen... they started asking me questions back. It was weird and uncomfortable, but at the same time it's what I wanted....here come the voices again - what if they don't like what I say? what if  they think i'm dumb? what if i have food in my teeth? what if  what if what if what if??? what the fuck? So I said fuck it. just talk. IF they don't want to listen, they can end it. And I actually started developing friendships based on this approach.

I purposely set out to introduce myself to people I was attracted to whether it was sexual, intellectual, emotional or spiritual. If they had a quality I liked, I would try to find a way to meet them. I was at a party once and there was this HUGELY muscular guy sitting there at a table with someone i knew. I was nervous as hell to talk to him. I was scared actually because he looked mean. But I sat down and my friend and I started chatting. At some point  I mentioned someone that happened to be this big guy's ex, and he chimed in, and we started conversing...He was going through a tough time, was all torn up from a messy druggy break up with someone, and was just trying to sort it all and himself out. We exchanged numbers and he actually called me the next day to thank me for the chat. I was floored. That was seven years ago and today that guy is one of my best friends in the world. We see each other at least twice a week, we have travelled together, I've been to a memorial he had for is sister who passed away, he's been to my birthdays and listened to me when all I wanted was someone to hug. I never would have had this friendship if I had let the fearful voice in my head stop me from sitting at that table that one night. I never would have known the great times, good talks and just love I feel from that man, and he from me. (Shameless plug: That man also kicks my ass in the gym 2-3x a week as a personal trainer and is largely responsible for helping me change my physique over the last 7 years - Total Precison Fitness )

Fear sucks the life out of me if I let it. Fear kills any curiosity and fuels my depression. Fear I've learned serves absolutely no purpose whatsoever. NONE. If i'm threatened, I try to take action. I don't sit and quiver and cry anymore. I did that for years and guess what? Not once did it ever work. Action works. Action brings movement. Curiosity brings revelation. Revelation brings knowledge.

We have nothing to fear but fear itself... Fuck fear.

Lyrics of Love and Hate

Indugle me for a minute... (and let me say that if you are reading this I don't expect you to watch all of the videos I have included in this post, but I'd love it if you watched one that you didn't know and left some feedback).

     For a while now I have wanted other people to love this band like I do. When they sing of love, its heartfelt, vulnerable and tender, when they sing of anger, its loud, hard and visceral. I think I love the music so much because there isn't a single emotion in them that I haven't felt over the ups and downs of my adult life. The lyrics are so beautifully crafted, challenging to sing, and clear in what they mean. I post videos on my YouTube page from them that get few to no comments.  Blue October is a "hard rock alternative" band, but to label them as such edges out anyone who might be willing to give them some attention for a few minutes. I'm passionate about this band and literally listen to at least one of their songs every day whether in the car, in the office or while I write this.  I mention Madonna not being my favorite and I get volumes of comments, commentary, and defenses for the Material Geriatric. It's almost like I should be cast out for not worshiping Madge or Gaga. Well I don't. I worship Justin Furstenfeld and his band Blue October for their sheer bravery and honesty to express all the pain joy love loss and fear he is going through.

Some brilliant examples of lyrics that make an impact on me are simple lines like:
 "your mockingbird put dents in me", talking about his soon to be ex-wife filing for custody and divorce while he was out on tour.
"I might have been gone but I never walked out" singing to his daughter.
"I watched closely as the you I knew forgot me" singing about how someone neglected him as a child.

Image from "The Worry List" video

Blogger Chez Pazienza wrote on his blog "Deus Ex Malcontent" the following about "The Worry List", their latest single off of their album "Any Man in America":
 I have to admit that this song had an effect on me -- and for reasons you'll understand almost immediately. Blue October's latest record is all about the crash of Furstenfeld's very troubled marriage, told in vivid detail -- and while I've very much moved on from my own, the songs that deal with his relationship with his young daughter do have a pretty visceral impact and likely will for any man separated by time, distance and circumstance from his child, in particular his daughter.


Blue October's "Worry List"

Because this song breaks my heart. He sings "I see the door close down behind you. I watch your face turn from glow to straight gray. I see the moon go up and it shines this glory on my face. Who would know?" about drifting apart over the years from his wife in The Feel Again (Stay)

I first heard Blue October when "calling you" was played on the radio back in Dallas. It was different and heartfelt, insecure and humble. If you  don't know it, please listen:
Blue October's "Calling You"

Next they had a HUGE hit with "Hate Me" ("I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head. They're crawling like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed") followed by "Into the Ocean" Both amazing. "Hate Me" is him begging his mother to just let him go, forget all about him because of how he'd treated her when he was abusing drugs.

My favorite songs are when hes ferociously angry and letting loose. "James" is a song about pure anger and hate toward someone. "Dirt Room" is about how revenge and how he should have killed someone for robbing his family of food and success and how we wants to "Cover you with ants bees and honey then take a picture for the cover of our album".

OK I'm finished bombarding anyone who has lasted this long with songs I love. No one I know loves this band like I do. A few kind of like "Hate me" and "into the ocean" but that's usually it.

I respect what he's doing so much. He's working out his issues with songwriting and performing. He gets strength from performing and getting the energy out in such a way so he doesn't do any damage to anyone, especially himself. I would think that gay men especially would admire someone who lets his true feelings be known and puts them out there with such energy passion and feeling... Maybe if Justin put a cone bra or a meat dress on he'd get some gay boys following him and making mega mixes out of his songs.... hmmm...

Body Issues, Photo Shoots and Fessing Up

From the Michael Alago shoot

BODY ISSUES, PHOTO SHOOTS & FESSING UP:

    I've been getting a lot of "press" lately. It started when Peter and I went to Folsom last September in San Francisco. A few weeks before I had seen a post by a photographer I like, named Michael Alago, on Facebook saying he was looking for reds / gingers to photograph. I sent him a note and a picture just to see if he'd be interested and if I could get some validation, and he responded asking for more pictures, so I sent a few more. We struck up a nice conversation and it turned out he was also going to be at the Folsom street fair, so we decided to meet for a short minute at the fair and take some quick pictures.  Now I'm not by any means in the kind of shape most of his models are. If anyone reading this is familiar with the "Rough Gods" page on Facebook, you can see what I'm talking about.  I mean I'm in good shape (after MANY years of hard work... I'll get to that), but not to my ideal (are we ever?).

From the  Boots Bryant Shoot

A few of those pictures  were posted on his 60,000-fans-and-growing "Rough Gods" facebook page. Much to my low-self esteem's surprise, it got some colorful comments and a lot of "likes". Ego stroked. Monitoring of "likes" and comments ensues.  I posted a few on my facebook page to try to stroke my ego some more and get more comments, which I did.

I kind of got a little addicted to the attention (surprise) and took up 2 offers from other photographers that had been made. One from a man who professionally goes by the name Boots Bryant. Boots likes masks and asked me to take a few pics with various masks and things like straight jackets, CPAP sleep apnea masks and knives. It was a lot of fun, different and i did it just to do it. (He also took an amazing picture of my butt that I haven't posted anywhere. :-) )...

From the Mark Flanders shoot

I then remembered I was referred to a photographer named Mark Flanders by a guy I new from the gym, who thought Mark would like to shoot me so I reached out and we did a shoot. His work was more doctored in that he liked to alter and manipulate the backgrounds, exaggerate my physique and just have some fun with it. We met at a loft and had a fun shoot and laughed a lot while his friends were there drinking and gaming, looking at me half naked posing for pictures. I had fun, and the pictures turned out kind of cool and I made a nice new friend out of the deal.

From the Jeremy Lucido shoot

I was chatting online with a guy a few months later, Jeremy Lucido, who turned out to be a photographer. I mentioned my recent shoots and sent him a few of the pics from my previous shoots, kind of fishing... He then asked if I would do a shoot for him because he was doing a Leather Issue to his magazine, Starrfucker, and thought I'd be a good fit. Again, being a little drunk on all the flattery and attention, I said yes. I worked out hard leading up to it.We did the shoot in his loft  downtown of me in leather gear trying to look mean or sly...not sure if I pulled that off but it seemed to go well and Jeremy said the pics came out great. He emailed me one shortly after that and I was really stoked. I thought it was a great pic, so I quickly sent it to a good friend because I wanted him to see. He loved the pic so much he asked if he could contact the photographer to use one of the pictures for a promotional night club event he was doing.

I put them in touch with each other and got excited to see the result. John, my friend sent me the mock up of the banner he was using my image for. He said there would be several banners and this was one of them. So excited for the attention I really got excited for the event to roll around. When it did, there were 2 posters, both with me at the entrance to the club. I thought "I wonder why I'm on both of them and not one of the other guys he's using". We walked in and BOOM! ME ME ME ME EVERYWHERE ME! People coming up to me, attention attention attention! Across the room, the was a fifteen foot tall ME lording over the dance floor... There were no other guys on the banners or posters. It was me... and suddenly I was very uncomfortable. VERY, and told Peter that I'd be happy to leave at any time. I had gotten all this attention I quietly and discreetly sought out. I can't lie, for a while it was intoxicating and ego inflating to no end. I loved it. I still do kind of. But this evening proved to be too much. We went out to the patio and sat there eating food off the taco truck having nice quiet conversations for a while before we left.

Now I want to point out WHY I sought the attention. I've been 6'4" tall since high school. I shot up so fast that I would wake up with leg cramps in the middle of the night. Growing up I was skin and bones. My frame grew faster than any other part of me. When I graduated high school I was 165lb. I started working out in my 20s and got up to 220lb. Then I lost it all again to to some excessive "partying" shall we say, and not going to the gym anymore. At 32 I was back to 165lb.

I'm 40 now. I've been going to the gym solidly for 8 years. Working with a trainer for 6 to push and push and push myself to get over my insecurities. To not be afraid to take my shirt off. To not think when people look at me they are looking because I am a freak. I wanted to be secure in how I looked. I didn't want to be "pretty" or "popular" or anything like that. I wanted to be comfortable in my own skin.  All these photo sessions, all this attention - it all helped me reach a point where I don't have to listen to those insecure voices in my head. I can still hear them, and trust me they are still there, but I don't have to give them any weight.  The only time I really listen to them is when I don't want to go to the gym. THEN I listen and boy do I get motivated.

I will always be that beanpole klutz that I was when I was young, on the inside anyway. I'll hear complements and want to believe them but won't. It's fine. I think if I started to believe them, I'd turn in to a complete asshole. I like who I am, and recently I like what I look like...even though I don't always believe what I see in the pictures...except this one taken when I was 17:

(Ignore the hair. it was the 80's.)

The Dead Ex

The Dead Ex:
     So I've been struggling about what to do with the ashes of my dead ex. He's been dead since July of 2004. I'm writing this in May of 2012. Yeah. For almost 8 years that carbon ash has been sitting in a hermetically (did I spell that right?) urn either on a shelf or in a closet collecting more ash on top of it from the particulate filled LA air.
     That sealed urn of ash has come to be a sore spot in my relationship, a symbol of old luggage I just won't be rid of, and an anchor to the past that for some underlying reason I haven't cut loose. And I I don't know why.

Me and Johnathan in the spring of 2004,
shortly before he died.

     My partner John died at age 37 from congestive heart failure. He was young, reckless and often times pig headed in his life. He was a conman, a sweetheart, an abuser, a romantic, a thief and a liar. I loved him with what I thought was everything I had despite all I knew he was. I ignored it. I told myself he was just misunderstood. No one knew him like I did. And in part that was true. He was a liar and a cheat right from the beginning. Everyone knew it from me. People told me that he was cheating. He got busted cruising for sex in a public park, he stole my ID to give to a guy to use to fly with so he could make a large drug purchase... insanity. He lied to me about why he lost his jobs. He lied to me when he told me he was HIV+ six years into our relationship about when he must have gotten it. He lied to me about going to AA meetings. He lied to me about an affair he was having with a "friend". HE LIED TO ME ALL THE TIME...but I refused to believe it.
     I was 20 years old when we met and he was the first real man whose head I turned. He was the first to show real and true interest in me. I had just come out in college not to long before and was new to the whole dating world. I knew nothing of relationships. This 12 year relationship would turn out to be all I knew of relationships. for what little better and for much worse.
    Anyway, so you can see why I feel conflicted about those fucking ashes. Some days I want to do a ceremony, find closure and release them somewhere at sea or some shit like that. Other days I want to drop them down the trash chute or flush them down the toilet. Lucky for my dead ex that urn is sealed shut and I will need a professional to pop the fucker open, because if it wasn't, he'd probably be in a land fill by now. I love him and hate him. And have yet to make peace with that...

     I've managed to fool someone new to fall in love with me. Someone whom I love right back. he's been patient, loving, undestanding and sweet about those ashes. But he's tired of being in a 3-way relationship and I don't blame him. So just as much for us now as it is going to be for me, I need to dump those ashes somewhere and, at least symbolically, be free of that luggage.

And here is the man I love now. the man that showed me how you treat another in a relationship, how you respect someone and how to really really LOVE someone as you should in a relationship. I used to think John was the love of my life... I was naive and young. Peter is the greatest love I have ever known, the most honorable man I think I've ever met, and one of the wisest people in my life.
He not only opened my heart, but he showed me what to do with it.