Saying Goodbye...

Sunday afternoon I phoned my mother to see how things were and tell her about the movie we were shooting the night before. After that and a few conversations about the mundane she mentioned she and her husband Jeffery cleaned out the room in which many of our stuff had accumulated. She said my sister had garbage bags of clothes upon clothes. My brother even had some. "Well, is my foot locker still there along with my box of books?" I asked. "No, I threw them out." I was so angry and have been for 4 days now. "That foot locker had a lock on it meaning there was something of value in it," I protested. "I've been telling you to come and get it for over a year now," she kept saying. I explained that when I moved to college in NY I wanted so desperately to take everything but couldn't do the fact that there was no more room in the car. Without saying more I told her I was so upset I couldn't talk to her anymore. I don't understand, why would you throw out something of someones when you don't know what's in it? There could have been something of great value, sentimental or otherwise in there. She threw out all of my books on obscure subjects and didn't think twice about how I felt. I should have known the week before when I thought to myself that the relationship between my mother and I had grown much better since high school. I thought wrong. I tried to appeal to my grandmother but all she could say was "sorry". Well, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that you'll never ever get to know me. You threw out all my memories, everything that made me feel human. In short, you threw away a part of me. All so you can make more room for your granddaughter's unwanted children. If that were the case I would have perferred you'd put my things aside until I could arrange someone to help me move them. Believe me, I had the room to store them. That's the problem with this family, you never consider anyone else's feelings but your own. By throwing out my personal belongings you threw me out. So I have no choice than to leave this family forever. Whether or not you know I was into guys doesn't matter. It's clear you don't want me in your lives. So I'm going to do you a big favor. I'm removing myself and all of my belongs, every image of me from your home. Why? Because you don't want or need to know me anymore. You never really did. It'll be as if I never existed. Later next week I will go back up to Connecticut to get the rest of my belongings, give both my niece and nephew their Christmas presents and then leave without saying so much as "goodbye". After I return to New York I am going to change my phone number and never speak to my family again. I knew this day was coming for years. I knew eventually I would have to let go and find my own way in the world. Should I have runaway to New York back at age 13 when things were unbearable for me? Yes. I would have been much more successful and had quite a childhood. I can't imagine how hard this is going to be on my niece and nephew but I think my grandmother, Mee mee is probably going to take it hardest. She pretty much raised me. Even after telling her I didn't want her sympathy and that I refuse to spend Christmas with them this year it will be hard for her to accept that I'm gone. She's always been concerned for me even whenever I was never around. I really don't want her to worry but I have to do this for my own good. As for my mother, she and I never really had a maternal bond. Maybe it was because she said she found me in a hole where a spaceship had landed up in the schoolyard near our house. Talk about childhood trauma. This could illustrate why I always felt like an alien to my family. Liking boys didn't help much either. Whether or not they opened my foot locker doesn't matter. The fact that they disposed of it like there was nothing to it fills me with a bitterness no one could come near. Is this our relationship? Despite what Crystal or Von have said to convince me that family is important I believe they have lost me as a son, as a grandson and and an uncle. Yes, I take it very personally because they would rather the neighborhood and garbage man find out what a flaming homo their son is than to let me keep my dignity. Yes, Mee mee, I'm sorry it had to come to this but you knew it would. It's better this way because as far as I'm concerned I'm dead to all of you.

The Show MUST Go On

On Monday I took the day off from work to accomplish something that was important to me. Auditioning for "Rent". Sure, I auditioned back in like 1997 but with the movie version coming out and my search for a performing career I figured " No Day But Today" to get started. After seeing the ad for Non Equity auditions in Show Business, a trade paper when I got back from shooting the Billy Bob Thornton/John Heder movie "School For Scoundrels" at JFK airport. Yes, I also took a day off to work as an extra on that film too. I really believe I didn't do as well as I would have like to because my throat was dry and I had not gotten proper time to practice. I mean after I signed up at the studios on 37 St. where they were being held I went back to my apartment in Brooklyn to do breathing exercises and warm up. Let me tell you the acoustics in the studio apartment I share are perfect for practicing vocally. You can bellow and no one will hear you and complain. Trust me when I say this because I really like to rock out sometimes. LOL I find the best time to practice is during the middle of day when Les isn't around and most of the neighbors are at work. Once I got to the studio I had to wait for my number to be called and even though this was my 2nd time audtioning for "Rent" I still had jitters. What also got to me was the information I printed from an article for Backstage earlier in the year about auditioning for Broadway and Off-Broadway. According to the author of the article they were looking for "hip, authentic singers in their 20s" and that they've had this policy since the show started. It's somewhat exclusionary and makes me wonder if the state of live theatre is going the way of the recording industry. I'd rather have talent up there than someone who only looks good. What are these people expecting? Another Ashanti or Britney? There were a few people there who did not look like they were in that age range at all. As a result I wrote down that I was 27 years old on the form they handed out. I figured it's not too far from my actual age and I'm not considered too old. Another thing that I tried to keep in mind from the article was the fact that they wanted singers that could "blow the rafters off the place". I know I have a good voice and I have the ability to project well. After I introduced myself to Justin, the musical director I started out strong but then resulted in shouting out the lyrics. I was horrified. This wasn't my intention. I really want to show how a brotha could rock out with soul. He had to stop me before I got to the 16th bar. Should I have apologized and told him I may have had a cold due to the sudden warm temperatures outside? Maybe. Regardless, I'm going to go back when the auditions happen again which I'm guessing is sometime in the spring. I will not quit.

I NEED A CHANGE!!

Yesterday I called out sick. Sick of my boss and my job. I was determined to live my life to my own rhythm. On Monday I made a life-altering decision after my 30th birthday on Saturday. I attended an open-casting call for a new Beatles musical starring Salma Hayek. Set in the 60s/70s, the movie will be directed by Julie Taymor of "The Lion King". Although it is not a guarantee I am still elated that I decided to go to Casting Networks for the opportunity. Dressed in my best 70s drag, I took the plunge. For a long while now I have wanted to perform on stage and camera but never got the chance to persue it. Now that I'm a healthy 30 years old I feel the need to take risks, pursue my long witheld dreams. Performing is one of them. Whether it be singing, acting, or well, dancing. I want to do it all! Most of all I'd like to focus on starting a singing career. I have been told I have a good voice and that I should consider that as a career. I never really took it seriously. I don't know if it's low-self esteem or my unwillingness to deal with b.s. in the recording industry. I would like to go about establishing a successful performing career the best way I know how. Market myself. I plan on building a website devoted entirely to my many talents. By incorporating a comfortable visual experience with exiquisite information archietecture, and smooth vocals I believe I can get more hits from interested talents scouts and casting directors alike. I'm already considering hiring Dave, a friend who has worked with well-known photographers to take a couple of rolls of me for my headshots and compsheets. I believe the time and money I invest could be beneficial. I'm also not stopping there. I'm in the process of finding a new way to generate income, be through working from home as a freelancer to "entertaining" bored out-of town businessmen. Just kidding. The night before the casting call I bought take-out from one of the chinese restaurants on Myrtle Avenue. After my dinner I opened my fortune cookie that read: "May my faith always exceed my fears- the price is too great to go through life afraid." Simply put I've been afraid all of my life. I've been taking on menial positon, positions I didn't have much interest in just to survive financially without much thought to my real passions. When I joined the Prattstore as a manager I saw it as a job, nothing more. After all the abuse, humiliation, and trickle down blaming I realize it is time for me to pursue my true interests: creating and developing art, in any form. I can make the time to become a well-known vocalist just as I can express my perception visually to others. I am a communicator and that does not stop at the page; it continues through my emotions, body language, and voice. Funny, when I look back on it I was unaware of my own strengths. When I was a month into my position as shift coordinator my supervisior, Rose, commented on my approach to management. Where she was so used to yelling at employees, even to get their attention from the back of the store. "You can't get these people to do what you tell them using your voice," she stated. As if to say I was too soft or weak when clearly she had boneheaded people working for her. Such attacks on my manhood would not be the last. Instead of taking the insult lying down I should have countered", None of my vocal teachers have never encountered such a problem." Such negativity is so common place my friend Crystal quit today. She was fed up. Inspired, I have decided to follow suit. It's been 10 months and I feel I have enough experience as a manager to get a better position. But I don't want another job. I want to make a life for myself. I want a career. I'm multi-talented, determined, and strong. I am going to find a career that I can enjoy. Be it drawing action figures like I am doing now or working as an extra on filming productions. or both. I am going to make it as an artist and performer, even if it means bit parts in movies and commercials. My attitude has changed because I see the big picture. Life is for the living, what am I waiting for?

'The Origin of My Orientation" -or "Another One Joins the Team"

3 nights ago after receiving a call from my boy English (a.k.a. Rock a.k.a. Carl) that he needed some cash I walked over to his cousin apartment where he stays from time to time. I don't mind helping him out during this time with his money troubles. He just got finished telling me about his new venture with a local artist who is looking for new space. He's an emigre from the U.K. who's been here for 9 years working off the books (I know, this was new to me!) and was comfortable living with his current lover. Recently, he just split from his lover of a year and a half. Seems he picked up a bad crack/heroin habit. After a few pieces of jewelry came up missing E packed most of his things and split. Some how between this and finding out the stylist that he was working with is wearing the clothes he customized for a Terrell Owens shoot he wound up talking about the video store (Aren't I the king of run-on sentences?) where we first met a year and some change ago. I was kinda surprised to know he still hangs around there. Seems the video store with it's key location on Fulton St. in a residential/commerical area is still thriving. Thriving despite the repeated attempts of it's owners to dissuade the key demographic of men seeking men that frequent it's peep booths. Curious, I asked if English had encountered a man there my height of 6'2", with light-brown eyes, a meticuliously maintained mane of dreadlocks, light brown complextion, who could pass for a model. He searched his memory and said he knew who I spoke of. I spit out the same description with much more detail and got the same answer. I couldn't believe my ears but was giddy at the thought of it. English knew exactly who I described. In recent months I have seen him around my way in Clinton Hill. Whether on my way to work or leaving to go home blocks away I encounter him on an almost daily basis. In fact, he showed up at my place of work, in the art store. Although his face was familiar I couldn't place while I was preoccupied with my work duties. I told him he looked familar to me and if I knew him. He responded by asking if I graduated from Pratt. I answered yes. He lied saying we both lived in Cannoneer Court, one of the freshman dorms on campus. "No" I responded, "I NEVER lived there while attending Pratt." What a bold-faced liar. Everyone knows I transferred into the school. Why lie to me about something so benign as where we know each other. I pass by him everyday and the asshole fails to realize that I know him from years ago. Typical down-low nigga. Always undercover from even the people who were friends with him once. The person in question was one Eddie Jacobs. Though he is not wanted for any known crimes legal or in love he is responsible for my conscious decision to become same gender-loving. Here's how it went down, 15 years ago I attended an artists commune of high school students chosen to attend classes and live with one another at Wesleyan University. For 6 weeks you get to hang out with fellow visual artists, theater majors, writers, theater techs, singers, all types of singers. The first year was great so I chose to go again a second year. This year I had befriended a group of guys with whom I had more than one thing in common (no not that!) -we were all gifted and black. I had developed a crush on a puerto rican girl who I thought was attracted to me. Boy was I wrong. One day while sitting in the grass and listening intently to a speech given by program head B. Joan Hickey I got the idea to lightly brush her leg as if to stoke it but not quite. The skin of her leg was creamy and beautiful and i just wanted to feel. Once I did I lied telling her I was brushing an ant off of her leg. After the event was over I headed to back to my room in the dorms. Suddenly, I was confronted by the same guys whom I thought were my friends and the girl. I tried to explain myself but was confronted by an onslaught of allegations and concerns. "She could charge you with sexual assault" Eddie said. For touching her leg? That scene reverberated thoughout my head as I walked back to my room. Betrayed and confused I made the decision to turn my attraction from the opposite sex to my own. I haven't looked back since. It has saved me from heartbreak and rejection not to mention loveless relationships, confusion, and most importantly unwanted children. The thought that Eddie had succumbed to the similar activity that I had made fun of in jest years before had me skipping down the street. Much later did I realize that this was sign that I had competition. Competition from the same guy who influenced my decision to abandon my desires of the opposite sex. I mean sure I had attractions for men earlier on before this happened but this incident is what sent me over the edge. The thought that this same person who drove me away from one end of the sexual spectrum was now indulging in the same activity that I am sickens me. Not only that but he's hot. Both women and men find him incredibly attractive and this means only one thing -I have to step up my game. Spend months in the gym, groom myself better, stop eating entirely. All because of his decision to go bi. God, I could be having sex with someone who could blown him! I don't know whether to shake his hand and welcome him to the club or break his jaw!

LoNG TIMe No SeE

It's been 9 months and not a word from me. Yeah, well, I'm a dick. I should've been filling you, the loyal reads, in on my exploits. I never made any promises but the hiatus gave me alot that you can learn from -at least as a detached observer. Well, here's what's happened since then... I found another low-paying job, broke up with the guy, became homeless, moved to Jersey City reluctantly, was sexually assualted, possibly exposed to an STD, found another job, found out the guy I was living with was a controlling asshole, found another job, and moved back to Brooklyn. With me so far? Ok. So much has happened to me in the last months that it is no less than a journey. How I got back to where I live in Brooklyn is nothing short of a miracle in itself. Oh, and the clincher is you would not guess who I work for now. I'd like to believe that this is a cycle of some sort, my destiny manifesting itself. For a short while I must admit I was walking around with a short fuse and felt as though God had it out for me. Actually God had a plan, he didn't bother to fill me in on it. While I was working my $6.50 an hour (or was it $7.00?) job at the wretched machination called Pearl Paint on Canal I was convinced to answer an ad for a new art store going up in the area where I used to live. After meeting the General Manager in person and handing him my resume in person I continued searching for work. I waited and I waited. Finally, I heard from someone. Only thing it was a position at FedEx Kinkos in Union Square. Let me tell you, it was exactly like the sketch on Dave Chappelle's show. It lasted for 3 weeks. After I received word back from the Art Supply Manager of the art store in Brooklyn I put in my notice of leave. Yeah, $10.50 an hour is nice but $30,000 a year plus benefits sounds much nicer. Next thing I knew I was Shift Supervisor of the art store at my alma mater. After many long hours and difficulty adjusting to the new material and staff I was now a manager. Pretty soon, I moved back to NYC vowing that I would never move to Jersey again. Despite the amount of responsibility and restraint I go through I like my job. I'm surrounded by artists and now that I am part of the adminstration I can put into motion ideas and events that otherwise would have reached deaf ears. My boss is abrasive and unforgiving at times, I give her that but it's much better than where I stood after graduation. Mad props and thanks to those of you who gave me advice. You can expect to hear of great things from me. Well, at least hear of them from myself. Be patient and watch this space...