19 hour christmas

from the stroke of midnight
at the very start of december 25th
up until well after 3 a.m.
as i put the final finishing touches on my gifts

then back up again
just five hours later, right around 8 o'clock

AN ALL-DAY CHRISTMAS

laughter, food, gifts, hiking, family, friends
memories made

at the end of a long
(and not entirely easy) year
a day of joy and peace

now
as 2009 approaches
and this blog, more or less, comes to an end
i give thanks

for the blessings all around us
for the ability to step back and see life anew
for the pleasure and relief that can come with change
and for the awareness to see past form, preconceived ideas,
and the external world
into something real.

merry christmas and happy holidays to everyone

in the hope that 2009 is our best year yet.

Does A Body Good.

I saw the film "Milk" last night with a group of young, upwardly mobile gay men: a graphic designer, an artist working at Samuel French Publishing and (shockingly) two attorneys. As the credits rolled two of the friends kept saying to each other how sad the film had left them. "I've never seen a more depressing movie in my entire life," was one beleaguered response.

I couldn't have felt more differently. The film, which tells the story of the rise into office and subsequent murder of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected public official, actually left me feeling inspired, nostalgic, grateful, empowered and above all else overflowing with pride.

But that's not to say that "Milk" didn't leave me untouched by melancholy. The unspeakably powerful story aside, which is heartbreaking and tragic, what shook me from the very beginning was a sense of yearning (and possibly regret) for a life that I wasn't even alive to experience.

In short, I wanted to be a part of that movement. Not that I wanted to actually be Harvey Milk; with the government position, the newspaper articles, the schools now named after him and his place firmly set in the history books. No, I didn't need to be Harvey. I just longed to be a part of his orbit. Young, passionate, driven, angry individuals fighting time and again, even after they'd been bloodily knocked down.

It all seemed like such fun. Fun in a way that a night in Hell's Kitchen or a carefree trip to Fire Island could never be. (And, in all honesty, possibly fun in a way that only a well edited movie can make the day-to-day events of government life appear) God knows there's still plenty to fight for as 2009 is upon us. I'm just not sure I've found that role in the universe. I'm just not sure I've found that universe at all.

So many of us were beyond inspired by the election of Barack Obama into the Presidency. As I took the bus up to get a haircut near Columbia University a few days ago I noticed a New York Times headline stating "300,000 Apply for 3,300 Obama Jobs." Now that's a profoundly powerful political movement. And it's actually happening RIGHT NOW.

I suppose I have no right to complain. We are living in hands-down the most exciting political time of modern American history. And plus, I've always said I'm grateful to be a gay man who came of age in the late 90s and early 2000s. It feels a bit like what I imagine the Civil Rights Movement felt like for African Americans in the 1960s. A group of fed-up people finally finding their voice and making it heard LOUDLY.

I'm happy that I never grew into old age terrified or ashamed, just another crazy old Uncle Confirmed Bachelor... But I'm also somehow happy that I'm not one of the kids today, who perhaps find it almost too easy to come out to mom and dad at the ripe old age of 12. There's something to be said for having an awareness of just how much progress has been made. To have felt that confusion, that fear. But to have lived life openly anyway.

Maybe I'm just experiencing that New York City Eight year itch. After four years of college at NYU and a varied, generally exciting array of jobs and experiences since, I still feel that New York will forever be my home. I'm just also fairly certain that I want it to be my forever-home after having lived a couple of other places as well...

...The first quasi-real relationship I ever had in life was back as a freshman in college around the holiday season of 2000. It ended horribly, with him breaking up with me over the phone the day before Valentine's Day and then showing up stoned months later when I'd arranged to finally meet up and get "closure." But as life goes, time healed all wounds and he and I (while in no way friends) are linked up on Facebook and have chatted there once or twice.

The thing is that Facebook thrusts people's business in your face even when you aren't looking for it. With important "Notifications" like: Rebecca just changed her status to "In A Relationship" and: "Bobby just got in from 9 HOURS OF NON-STOP SNOW BOARDING! WOO HOOOO!" you end up learning things about your "friends" you might not have even been interested in finding out.

But this ex of mine seems to be leading (while not the life I'd have chosen for myself) a pretty fascinating, nomadic, potentially uber-cultured lifestyle. Sandwiched between his photos from Burning Man and his shots at Brighton Pride he seems to have spent the Summer of 2008 in Florida, New York, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Denmark, Norway, the U.K. and Portugal. And apparently right now he's in Grad School somewhere in Manhattan.

I, on the other hand, have just been here all these years. And not even vacationing as much as I'd like. The point of this tangent is that I logged onto Facebook this evening after a looong day of recovering after a looong night of partying in the Upper West Side, Lower East Side and Williamsburg to find this posting from said ex...


"help me get my hands all milky

as winter officially sets in with the cosmic union of miley cyrus and the rockettes and a giant fur all gussied up and stuffed with lights and brights, and yesterday's sampling of that bewildering intrusion that is ice flakes from the sky, i have felt the urge not only to listen to gloria estefan's 'coming out of the dark' on a loop for six hours but also to begin planning for summer 2009, when the only ice i'll be confronted with will constitute of cream, or be politely melting in my lemonade.

i am looking to find a job/internship/volunteeropportunity/paycourse in sustainable farming or construction. i have researched and found endless opportunities to act as a farm hand for the summer, just in upstate new york alone, however i know that many of you have worked for such places and wonder what suggestions my friends may have. also, do you want to join me or can i join you? i am willing to travel anywhere in the states to work (except florida), stay a full three months, and get very dirty and even sleep on a mat. what i would like to take out of the experience is one or all of the following: the ability to befriend and milk a cow, biceps, 100 logged hours of chain saw operation, pectorals, carpentry experience, man hands, connection with the earth, farmer's tan, sustainable husbandry in general.

thoughts and suggestions?"


Ok. So first off, I have no desire to work on a farm. Ever. I also have no real desire to suddenly go into politics. Yet.. But I am inspired by my ex's commitment to continually live life anew. And I'm also confronted by the same dilemma Harvey Milk faced at the start of the film (and I'm assuming in his real life as well). "I'm 40 years old and I haven't done a thing I'm proud of."

26 is not 40. And I'm proud of a lot. But life swings past at a break-neck speed. This is our one and only shot. Is it everything it could be? Are any of us out there certain of ourselves that we're a part of something important, that what we do every day matters, that we are living to our greatest potential?

Because I don't feel unjustified in wanting every single bit of that. And I'm not afraid to continue the journey down that road. The road that will, with hopeful certainty, lead to my great undefined "it's" inevitable discovery.

This is not 1978. Harvey Milk hasn't been alive for over 30 years. But the world keeps spinning forward. It's a big, brave universe out there. From Farmland to City Hall. And there is much more work to be done.

with gratitude...

this thanksgiving
we put our beloved family dog meg
to sleep

she had been very, very ill
for some time
blind and mostly deaf for even longer

and finally at the point where
she could no longer eat

it was both heartbreaking and somehow easy
taking those final days with her
but knowing that it really, really was her time

thanksgiving morning
as i shaved and showered
my mom and brother headed to the lake house
and my little sister got herself ready for the day

my dad
drove our 13 year old meg to the next town over
to the only open animal hospital nearby
and handled what needed to be done

before he left
we each had our goodbyes with meg
whispers, kisses, hands on fur
but he was the one to drive her
carry her into the hospital
and be with her in the end

my father stepped in to save us from that pain.

that entire afternoon i was so moved
by the sheer reality of life, family and the inevitability of loss

i was moved because
for the first time in a long time
i was reminded that this man is the leader of our pack
that when horrible situations arise
he is first in line to fix them

and i was suddenly safe with this awareness
we each were
safe in his protection

a few hours later
as my sister, dad and i headed to the lake ourselves
to join the rest of our family and our friends

he told us everything

how the doctor had said this was especially difficult
because she had an english springer spaniel just like ours

how she had told him that meg was truly very sick
and that we had made the humane choice

how my father had cried, somehow
saying goodbye to her like that

all alone
with his dog there one moment
and then calmly, peacefully gone the next

then, shouldering the burden
for everyone else

without praise or fanfare
he headed home
to us

pride and prejudice

saturday, november 15
a protest, a gathering, a movement
at new york's city hall

in response to the passing of
proposition 8 in california
which aims to effectively ban gay marriage

as i skipped down the street looking for my friends
i was amazed by the thousands and thousands of people
standing, chanting, moving en masse

people of every age, race, sexual orientation and size
many with unimaginably witty or moving posters

"shame on h8! equality for everyone"
"give, live, love"
"straight... but not straight up stupid"
"shall we vote on YOUR marriage now?"
"love thy gay-bor!"
"1/2 citizen"
"gay is the new black"
"i'm here to meet my husband"
"please let my son marry"
"no more mr. nice gay"
"REALLY?"

each and every one of these people empowered
and finally angry for a change

there was hope and pride and joy and glee
all the emotions one would expect from a gathering of "gays"

but mixed with that was the sobering reality
that history is repeating itself yet again
and that if any of us expect REAL change
then that'll take a little bit more than glitter & a dance beat

it will take strategic, organized political action

all in all, i think it was important for so many of us
to know that in some small way
we were participating, contributing

i'm not too sure what a bunch of fired-up gays in new york
will do for a law that WAS voted on
by the tax paying citizens of california
but every crack in that ceiling helps

and at any rate (because to some degree most stereotypes are true)
the 8 of us who gathered and made our voices heard
ended up having a fantastic late afternoon brunch in brooklyn
once all the megaphones and posters had been put away

now THAT'S a movement we can all get behind...

it is time...

(my) Election Day 2008


vote here. vote often.


the energy of election day at p.s. 72


voting booth proof.


Last Call for Change: Guastavino's New York


the phone bank, november 4th


gavin brown's "penthouse" election night party


shock and awe.


Mr. President

inspirING.

the ING new york city marathon
inspiring beyond words

in hordes they flowed
on this brisk november day
bodies, energy, sweat, tears

a never ending parade of colors and faces
lycra running shorts and nike tennis shoes

it was an amusing bunch this year
more costumes than i'd have expected
from braveheart to borat to batgirl

and then there were those who moved past me
leaving us all stunned and breathless
paraplegics racing on their metal legs
participants in wheelchairs
the blind being guided by friends

no one can stop the spirit
if it has to move it will

plus, there was ryan reynolds
whose body is like some sort of sculpture

and even some trannies too!
with auburn wigs and pink body suits
winded, heads down, powering on

i went to cheer on my friend jenny
who never ceases to inspire me

but was left somehow moved by everyone
the jokesters, the struggling
the beautiful, the proud

you could say it's just putting one foot in front of the other
granted, one foot in front of the other for 26.2 miles

but it's a testament to the human body
the human will

and i couldn't be prouder
of all of them.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

boo!

wow, here's to the BEST halloween ever!
so many costumes
so many ridiculously awesome people

from ryan's champagne "event" at elizabeth
to the pre-game house party in the west village
to the most insane 5,000 sq. ft. tribeca loft extravaganza

this tribeca loft party, i'm tellin' you
there was a haunted house
rooftop terrace
three open bars
sushi and dim sum spread
not to mention, more energized and enlivened characters
than should ever be crammed into just one night!

sometimes in life
you hope and wish and worry
but it all works out in the end

beyond expectations
beyond limits
waaay beyond dawn

happy halloween to everybody!
may you never, ever, ever grow up.

MADONNA: STICKY AND SWEET TOUR 2008

the epitome
the ultimate

artistry, energy, dance, movement, politics
just the absolute pinnacle of it all

all hail the queen
the 4th madonna concert i've had the privilege of attending
and if you've never been, then what are you waiting for?

she will blow the roof off what you'd previously thought possible
and shift your perspectives
on art and performance

see her while you can
with your mom if possible (like me!)

she. will. leave. you. changed.

the boss of no one

harry potter
a boy wizard
frightened, challenged
but with a predetermined destiny

i'm nervous
a life less ordinary
couldn't be imagined

as the urge bubbles to the surface
RUN, RUN, RUN
i sit, immobile as ever
and change the channel again

stagnation:
a state beyond just stagnant
stagnant enough to encompass a NATION

writers are supposed to be able
to write about more than themselves

i am not a writer.

perhaps i am only a viewer
some spectator of lives all around me
the real and the serialized

as i watch the story of jennifer hudson's family
tragedy beyond comprehension

and the murder of little rock's anne pressly
too gruesome to describe

i sit, immobile as ever
and change the channel again

halloween was never supposed to be this scary.

there are moments of such crystalline clarity
the evening, the music, the company, the wind

followed by moments
more dull, numb, full and fuzzy
where stepping outside seems a chore

what defines a life?
anything.

how do you know if you're living to your full potential?
you know.

what if you're sure that you aren't?
then change it.

what if you're worried you can't?
you can.

VOTE NOVEMBER 4TH!

MY GOD. THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER!

Words cannot express the joy this video brought to me when it arrived in my gmail account this afternoon!

Brilliance Beyond Belief! Thank You MOVEON.ORG!

(Click on the Screen itself to play the video FULL SIZE and to be taken to the sight where you can make your own!)

9.22.2008

one year ago today
matt died

as memories turn to sepia hues

sounds and smells
register with less clarity
and life, for all of us, unsparingly moves on

it's a constant, those memories

as i remind myself
that love like that is always a blessing
even when it's masked as a curse

i remain, forever
steadfastly sad for matt
more so than for his family, his friends or for myself

sad for matt
because of all that he's missing here on earth
all that he'd wanted to be part of
all that he'd desired to see

there was a question and answer
i read online one day

the question was:
"what holds people back from greatness?"

and the answer appeared immediately:
"how they define it"

greatness.

it is everywhere
in the most mundane of moments
in the small joys of a hard day's work
in a smile or gesture, the benign desire to change the world

and in a life cut dramatically short

greatness... nearly twenty four years of it.

fuerza bruta

artistry, magic
music beyond comprehension

fuerza bruta
translation: brute force
playing now in new york's union square

see this miraculous theatre piece
part cirque du soleil
part dance party
all wonder and witchcraft

the sight of my friend lindsey's face
usually so reserved and pinched
glowing, beaming, filled with light
muscled i didn't even know she had stretched in glee

as we danced about, arm in arm
to tribal beats straight out of the forest of arden
all the while
being sprayed with cool/warm waters

like smelling salts
bringing us back to life

there is so much beauty in this world
it is sometimes hard to hold it in your heart

otherwise (politically) engaged.

i believe this to be
the absolute, hands-down most exciting time to be alive
and politically engaged in america
in modern history

"change" has become a somewhat damaged catch-phrase
tossed about like that drunk girl who stumbled into the frat party
but honestly, how often do we get an opportunity like this?

a guaranteed fundamental shift
in the future of this nation

our first black president
our first female vice president

we can count on getting one of these two come november

but it's about more than just one dimensional labels and campaign slogans
it's about the potential for a true and realistic turning of the tides
after the seemingly insurmountable damage
caused by the bush/cheney administration

i've been amazed (albeit terrified AND amazed) by sarah palin
over these past few weeks
she truly comes across as a fighter
a woman strong in her own convictions
somebody probably perfect for running her home state of alaska

but when i think of
a first term governor
a self-proclaimed "hockey mom"
a staunch believer in pro-life polictics
an advocate for "creationism" and the nra
a politician unfamiliar with the bush doctrine
a potential leader of the free world with no foreign policy experience
a woman who doesn't seem particularly concerned about global warming
and just a heartbeat away from LEADER OF THE FREE WORLD?!

it all seems so cynical and sick
that the republicans could have even picked her in the first place
especially since mccain's strongest argument against obama was "experience"

so then, on the other hand
we have barack obama

i won't romanticize him or wax on poetically
frankly, i was a hillary supporter from day one
and at the very least, feel she should have been chosen v.p.

but if you've paid even the tiniest amount of attention
you'll have seen that barack obama has proven himself to be
as intelligent, compassionate and prepared a potential president
as this country could have ever hoped for

he truly is the dream
the hope that this nation was founded upon

plus, when you take a look at the economy alone
alongside john mccain's voting records as they parallel to george w. bush's failed policies
you have to ask yourself, how COULDN'T the majority of americans be voting for REAL change?

and if, like me, you've been glued to this whole process every step of the way
watching debate after debate
be it between the pundits on cnn, the ladies of "the view," or even (on occasion!) the candidates themselves
then you'll be hard-pressed to not ALSO tune into
"real time with bill maher"
airing on hbo

this man is beyond the beyond
hilarious, fair, whip-smart and a hoot to watch

here's just a little snipet of his "New Rules"
from an episode that aired on september 12th, 2008

enjoy.


"All right. Finally, New Rule: Just because you live in the middle of nowhere doesn't make you more authentic than me. It just means you have a much longer drive to the airport.

Now, ever since Sarah Palin came along, this election has been falsely framed as a contest between salt-of-the-earth, small-time maverick westerners and snooty eastern elites. You know, there's people who go to church on Sunday, and there's people who go to brunch.

Even fast-talking, cross-dressing Rudy Giuliani - the former mayor of New York City - accused Obama of being too cosmopolitan. That's like being called a douche-bag by Andy Dick.

And...and listen to Mitt Romney from the same convention. He said, "If America really wants change, it's time to look for the sun in the west, because it's about to rise and shine from Arizona and Alaska. Of course, if the sun actually did rise in the west, that would mean the earth is spinning backwards and we'd all fly into space. But, then Mormons were never big on science. As you well know.

But, what Mitt was getting at is that the East Coast is where all the liberals, with their bad ideas, come from. You know, bad ideas like the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. As opposed to the brilliant ideas that have come out of the west like frontier justice and wearing cowboy boots with a suit.

The ideas this nation was founded on came from the most cosmopolitan people of their day, the founding fathers, who believed in science, who looked to Europe for wisdom, and who had no use for ignorant hicks like Bush and Palin.

Truth is - the truth is, as America moved west and got farther away from its birthing in Boston and Philadelphia, it became less American, not more. We keep hearing about small-town values, you know, like shooting wolves from an airplane or forcing your daughter into a doomed, loveless marriage.

Cities are about diversity of thought. Small towns are about...well, crystal meth. And, last year, police found 42 meth labs in Sarah Palin's home county. Drug addiction is a terrible thing, but apparently it beats living in Wasilla sober.

There's so much meth in this town, I'm surprised the Palins didn't have a kid named "Tweaker."

So, now I know what they mean when they talk about the Alaska spirit. Ah, yes, Alaska, where the townsfolk are jittery and the hockey players screw right through the condoms."

postsecret.com

it's rather silly
for a small blog like mine
to promote a much larger one
like this

but postsecret.com
is one of the web's mini miracles

a community art project
where secrets are sent in and shared
ultimately illuminating the unity within us all

these are some of my favorites from over the years
melancholy, sincere, tender, hopeful

not exactly representations of my own life
but each one a secret of someone else's
that brought a moment of clarity, humor, awakening
(or just art) to mine

wake-up "calling"

i was woken up this morning by a knock at the door...

"ugh"
sleepy-eyed
with a sore-throat
out til 5 am the night prior

"must be con edison" ran through my head
"or the super coming back to check on repairs he'd made yesterday"
"maybe it's even a package that they need me to sign!"

at any rate
i wasn't nearly lucid enough
to give it much thought
as i stumbled from my bed towards the knocking
pulling on a t-shirt as i moved

when i finally threw open the door
i was more than a little shocked to find
two mormon missionaries
standing right before me

"oh god"
i said, without thinking
standing in an oversized t-shirt and purple-striped boxers

"good afternoon. we're here from the church of jesus christ of latter-day saints to see if you've got a minute to talk about the power of jesus christ?"

i stood
breathing in
then shook my head
waiting for the words to come

for some reason as a gut-reaction
i lowered my face to the ground
suddenly, inexplicably fixated on the floor
and said the only thing that came to mind...

"oh, you don't want to talk to me.."

it was all i could come up with.

the dark haired (speaking member) then replied
"of course we do.. why wouldn't we want to talk to you?"

i looked at my feet, i could feel my cheeks burn
and answered
"the list is too long"

the thing is
it's amazing how people can alter your reality completely
in the absolute blink of an eye

it's crazy how their mere presence can
suddenly make a self-assured person feel utterly ashamed

unnatural, dirty, wrong

i don't feel ashamed
i don't feel unnatural
i don't feel dirty
i don't feel wrong

i just now feel the need to repeat that to myself
over and over again

they didn't mean any harm, these two young men
they didn't come here to judge me, necessarily
obviously they believe that this is their "calling"

but here they were
white shirts, "elder this-and-that" name tags, black backpacks
giving me full mormon costume
like they'd stayed out too late the morning after halloween

the one who did the talking seemed simple, kind, pure even

and here i was
after another long night
of drink, smoke etc.
feeling dried out, weary
and more than a little turned on by the sight of them

thinking to myself, if only for an instant
that maybe my life is wrong?

that maybe there is a better way?

but then i stopped
took an assessment of the situation
and reminded myself that i fundamentally don't believe
in forcing your religion on anybody else

if your relationship with a higher power is so strong
then why do you need other people involved to enjoy that?

it's a special, deeply profound relationship with a god, by any name
experienced only in the landscape of your own head and heart
it's certainly not a mass exodus
or an orgy

i also took a moment to affirm
that i'm still a good person
that i am more than just the previous night's debauchery
that there's beauty and calm and connectedness to the universe
within me as well

the only real difference between me and these two gentlemen
are the labels we put on "god"

that, and the fact i'm not currently standing beside another man
dressed for the afternoon ahead
with a pamphlet in my hand

"STRANGE ATTRACTOR" at Fringe NYC

I couldn't be any prouder than I am about "STRANGE ATTRACTOR," the show I'm Company Managing for the 12th Annual New York International Fringe Festival.

It's a fantastic "Theatrical Showcase of Magic and Mystery- Willy Wonka meets Hitchcock!" And is an amazing experience designed especially for the child in all of us.

It's been running at Spiegelworld in the South Street Seaport for the past two weeks and there's only one show left (this Saturday August, 23 at 7:30 pm) so come on by if you get the chance!

"Partake in mind-reading, teleporting and other interactive feats with Marco, a Magic Man out to save the world...and the world beyond!" You'll be truly Blown Away!

Visit www.fringenyc.org or marcofrezza.com for more information.

And click to see reviews of our show HERE, HERE and HERE!

a day on the set of "ugly betty"

a day on the set of "ugly betty"
which is now, i'm happy to say, filmed in new york

i've never really watched the show
but it was fun to be a part of
fun and looong

fifteen hours
standing around
talking with everybody
acting shocked when a 400 lb. ice sculpture got pushed over
take after take, time after time

these actors work hard
well, if not exactly hard, then at least looong

it'll be a great episode
i'm one of a group of the "new york elite"
at a magazine launch party

drama ensues, believe me
in a very camp, telemundo way...

another of life's odd experiences
existing in an almost real word

it'll have to be looked at again someday
through dumbledore's pensieve perhaps

or, at the very least, through the "magic" of television

Kanye West: Glow In The Dark Tour

as if his performance weren't inherently enough
as if his artistry hadn't already blown all our minds

at the very end of the evening
following his final encore
out of nowhere
we get this...

bravery, truth-teller
"artist he"
the final frontier
all bow down to Kanye West.

"Open your fucking minds. Open your minds. Be accepting of different people and let people be who they are. You know how many people came to me calling me gay cause I wear my jeans the fresh way? Or because I said hey, dude, how you gonna say 'fag' right in front of a gay dude's face and act like that's ok. That shit is disrespectful. Coming from Chicago, where if you saw somebody that was gay you were supppoed to stay ten feet away. It should be time to break out of the intuitions that I was sayin', the steretypes, or the fear, the backlash that I would get if you don't believe in what I believe in, acceptin' people for who they are…they're very talented and if they do something special in the world and they're discriminated. I've flown across the world y'all, and I've come back here to tell you — open your minds and live a happier life…"

-Kanye West, as told to the audience at his Madison Square Garden performance August 5, 2008

sleep to dream

i never used to be a troubled sleeper

my entire life
no matter what age
no matter what time i crawled into bed
i slept

i slept soundly, deeply even
dreams were a regular occurrence

dreams both realistic:
the type that when you wake
you're left disheartened it had all been just imagined
or grateful it was only in your mind

and fanciful dreams:
loopy mind trips through an indecipherable abyss

there were nights of lucidity
and also dull, lethargic, brain-dead slumber

but there was always sleep

it's been a new sensation
getting used to the physicality of tossing and turning
the never-ending movement of my monkey mind

at first i believed that perhaps
it had to do with not getting enough exercise

in the past
those few and far between nights
when i hadn't rested, log-like
it had often been a result of having spent the day
lazy, propped up, bored

but as of late
(while still no gym bunny)
i've been running regularly & weight training as well

it then dawned on me
that perhaps the pillows or the mattress were to blame
but both had been my nighttime bunkmates
for well over a year by now

so the feeling nagged on
like an itch just out of reach

something had shifted inside of me
deep inside, buried
something big was clearly wrong
as though i was no longer upright within myself

this realization hurt
because it was incorrect somehow
close, but just an inch or so off

like a shoe that didn't quite fit
it wasn't Me that felt wrong
but something bigger, something altered
both a part of myself yet removed from me as well

and like that, i knew
the muscle memory had formed an indentation in my bed
an indentation next to my boyfriend matt

two bodies
at rest side by side

my joints were unable to ease into this new configuration
just my mass beside the dog's
i'd become so used to sleeping next to him
that it had altered even the way i'd slept
before we'd ever met

this was shocking
to be slowly, steadfastly becoming a complete person again
by the light of day
only to be reminded nightly
of just how lost i was

my body's sheer inability to shut down
to disengage and recharge for another day

in the time since matt's death
that i've found myself in someone else's bed
or found someone else in mine
even without (at times) an awareness of his full name...

my eyes fall heavy
an intangible cocoon feeling becomes all-encompassing
our mini-universe is vibrant
but all in tones of deep blue and purple

the weight of a man beside me

it's not a vague internal need
like the desire for dessert or attention
but rather comes from regions unexplored
a mind-click, like alcoholism, that allows my heart to slow

it's bliss really
dreamy, drifting bliss
safety, not from the outside world
but from myself

the awareness that human life rests near
gives me just enough room to escape

the dark nights

the dark nights, debaucherous

thursday:
a date that ends with me jumping from a moving taxi
heading up eighth avenue
as i ditch one young man for another
a new someone i'd just met a few hours before
a friend of a friend of a friend who'd been drinking with us...

friday:
a hot mess of vodka, photography
sexualized dancing & replenished bottle service
at a popular downtown uber club
the night concludes with me sticking my fingers down my throat
at the hollywood diner on sixth avenue...

saturday:
what should have been a cozy cocktail party at ryan's penthouse apt.
devolves into a hideous display of controlled substances & bad behavior
luckily, another friend and i find some solace talking well into dawn
with a group of disarmingly intelligent & courteous high school boys,
all members of a hardcore death metal band...

the weekends are given to us
at the end of every five day period

you only get what you put in.

as i sit amazed
(come tuesday and still recovering)
at an imax theatre beside my friend mark

utterly mesmerized by heath ledger's performance
as the joker in the film "the dark knight"

captivating, terrifying, bravery beyond words

now i can't seem to stop saying his line
"why so serious?"

it plays in my mind, pours from my lips
over and over again
ad nauseam
over and over again

filling me with great, hedonistic joy

"why so serious?"
"why so serious?"
"why so serious?"

him. again.

i smear paint around
it's a mess

the hands forget

without practice
writing becomes difficult
painting becomes difficult

without practice
you lose everything

it seems dishonest to me
at the very least, misleading

that i come to this blog
in an attempt to write and share

but time and again
manage to avoid the truth
of the realities in my actual life

it's far too easy for me to write about
documentaries and churches
thoughts
fleeting moments in a day
hints and whispers

never getting at any actual events
of my time with friends
my time at work
my time in general

there was a man

for a short while there was a great man
who stepped in with the attempt
to bring me back to life

it was only five weeks
that jason and i were together

but sometimes five weeks is enough
for a person to leave his hand print
on your heart

those first baby steps
towards your future and your past

something new swept in
unexpected
unprepared
wonderful

but somehow
i couldn't figure out a way to write about it here
despite how strange it felt not mentioning it at all

i guess carrie bradshaw had it harder than i'd known...

but really
how do you get at the truth
of a budding relationship
when you're not sure how you feel yourself?

it wasn't meant to be
he and i
we figured that out together soon enough

but for a while it was fantastic
and there are no accidents

trust in the universe
it always finds a way to give you what you need
to move forward

stepping outside yourself
opening your eyes to a new person
it's a blessing

especially when that new person
is truly amazing

and double especially
when you've already had the privilege
of being blessed
before

mediocrity

they say you'll never get rich
working for your boss

and that you'll never hit it big
without taking big risks

the dictionary defines the word "mediocre" as
1. ordinariness as a consequence of being average and not outstanding
2. a person of second-rate ability or value

mediocrity
i've become obsessed with this concept lately

is a life
in and of itself
mediocre?

if no one works for you or beneath you
if you can't afford trips to europe on the spur of the moment
if there isn't a camera following your every move

do you matter?

reality television has blurred
every line imaginable

instant fame
like soup
or messenger

a whole machine working behind your image
well, at least a concept of your image
a teeny sliver of your true identity

marketing
p.r.
media
the blogosphere
all talking about "YOU!"

for that instant you are alive
for that instant you are incontrovertibly alive
in. this. universe.

you are made alive by the fact
that people know you exist

certain cultures fear cameras
because they're said to steal your soul

but in today's time
at least in american culture
there are all too many of us willing to sell those souls
hell, give 'em away
without the guarantee of money, power
or even the tiniest semblance of control

then, like a drug, it sucks you in

watch donald trump if you need an example:
is there any conceivable reason why that man feels inclined
to step before a camera time and time again?

season after season of "the apprentice"
appearances on everything from qvc to world wrestling entertainment

systematically dismantling what had once seemed
a relatively legitimate businessman
showcasing a somewhat enviable way of life

i'll tell you it's not the money
that keeps trump coming back for more

it's the need to be seen
by the hordes of faceless strangers
sitting out there in the dark

and he is not alone.

but where does this phenomenon come from?
i think at this point
it's both nature and nurture

the desire to be seen
to stand out
is as ingrained in us as the desire to be thin

but what it might just really boil down to
is that on some level the camera makes us immortal

whether reality television
the movie screen
or our invaluable facebook pages

when we're visible we're forever
our bodies might wither and die but our image is permanent

the more photos we take
the more impossible we become to destroy

the more people are aware of us
on any level (even if we're despised)
the more impossible we become to destroy

and if your picture is everywhere
and the people in your universe can pick you out of a crowd
then mediocrity itself becomes an impossibility

it's like high school all over again
stand out, be important
or perish

even if you feel far below mediocre
deep down inside

the image remains
on paper
online
in the heads of everyone else

who can never really know you at all
unless you know yourself.

"ganja queen"

"ganja queen"
on hbo

dear god
i don't think i've been this affected
by a documentary
in as long as i can remember

and i watch a shit-ton of documentaries

witness the story of schapelle corby
a 27 year old australian woman traveling to bali
on holiday with her family

and the ten pound bag of marijuana
that's discovered in her suitcase
upon their arrival

in indonesia
the penalty for drug smuggling
is execution by firing squad

the hell that schapelle is put through
during the circus that surrounds her trial
as carried out in a third world country
is arguably a fate worse than death

"ganja queen" is as riveting and harrowing a tale
as could ever have occurred
in real time
on this planet

it will shake you to the core
it will challenge your beliefs about justice
it will leave you forever changed

i cannot fully put into words
how hauntingly powerful this story is

find it any way you can on hbo
or hbo on demand

this is simply a film
that is not to be missed

church of the holy trinity

a church
on the upper east side
magnificent

i stopped by last week
after a work out at the gym

originally wanting to just quickly peek inside
because it's where charlotte had married trey
on "sex and the city"

but upon my arrival
i was pleasantly surprised to find an episcopalian church
quite similar to the one i'd grown up in

but quiet
and cool, like wet stone
alive in a way few empty buildings are

as i entered the sanctuary i couldn't help but notice
the calm sunlight as it streamed through the
bafflingly beautiful stained glass

a flyer towards the back invited parishioners
to join both pastors and clergy atop the church float
for new york city's gay pride parade

a banner hanging near the entrance read
"we do not tolerate torture"

women with strollers sat in shadows
as their children enjoyed the afternoon sun

gardeners tended to the lush life
bursting in abundance all around them

a couple of homeless men slept inside
on unused church pews
no one seemed to mind at all

i'm certainly not a huge fan of organized religion
but the church of the holy trinity on 88th between 1st and 2nd
had certainly made its case

there was a spirit within the walls
amongst that garden
beyond those gates

but i think what moved me most within that space
was not the fact that i was in a church
or even the bible stories
depicted in the stained glass all around me

i was inspired by the beauty of a simple afternoon
the powerful artistry of architecture
and by people's profound ability to believe


from my point of view
a place of worship can be anywhere
but more often than not i feel a direct connect
within a theatre

earlier tonight i watched the movie "fame"
for the very first time ever in my life

jesus christ
is that movie thrilling beyond words

even now that every scene
seems both classic and cliched
i was moved as a viewer

but moved especially
because on some level i'd lived it

i'd lived it first as a child
daydreaming to the sound of the songs being played
on my parents' old record player

and then i lived it for real
as a drama major at new york university
smack dab in the center of it all

"out here on my own"
"i sing the body electric"
"is it okay if i call you mine?"

thrilling

having friends who'd gone to laguardia
high school of the performing arts
i'd always intended to see the movie

but somehow i had always imagined it'd be
a lot more of the dancing and singing on cars
and a lot less of the heart and the hurt
that comes with being an artist
just growing into yourself

it really hit home to me
a not so revolutionary but ultimately uplifting viewpoint
that some of us may be students of drama
or music
or dance

but we're all really just students of life
learning more and more each day
striving for something that feels bigger than ourselves
and going nowhere without the support
of the people all around us

we may not all live forever
but we're all alive right now

the age of reckoning

this past saturday
as i sat with my dog on a beach towel
in the middle of central park

waiting for SEVEN hours to get tickets
to the public theater's production of "hamlet"

i had more than ample time
to people watch

so for seven hours
more or less
that's just what i did...

being that this is new york city
there was every age, color and variety on display

certainly plenty of other theatre folks
like myself
waiting in line

but also tons of moms and dads with strollers
business types wearing their best conservative casual chic
ladies on horseback, kids on bikes
and more joggers than one could have ever imagined

it's curious that out of all these people
the two that stood out most
were a father and son who were running together
just as naturally and casually as could be

there was nothing special
that i noticed
about the two of them

just a dad and a kid
on yet another saturday morning run

but here they were

and to me they seemed the perfect illustration
of time gone by

one had his looks
his youth
his hair

the other had intelligence
a world view
and priceless life experiences

i suppose i remember them now
because i was struck by the fact that
This Is The Payoff

as we get older we gain so much..
character, confidence, a richness of being
but in essence we lose ourselves

or at least we lose ourselves as reflected back to us

we lose the way we'd once looked to the world
and the way we'd once looked in the mirror

there's a quote from christopher hampton's play
"les liaisons dangereuses"
that "vanity and happiness are incompatible"

and the older i get
the more this seems to be true

we are at the mercy of time...
even at the prime age of twenty six
i'm cognizant of that fact

i don't look like i did at eighteen
but the day will come when i'll think to myself
that i don't look like i did at thirty

or at forty
or at fifty
and so on and so on

a life lived wishing for the impossible
is a doomed one

and i don't intend to lead a doomed existence

i believe
that the father and son
each has his own story to tell
his own experiences to discover

we can pass through this world
jogging side by side
surrounded by the lushness of nature

ever changing
ever evolving
ever growing old

but always alert to the fact
that this is our body
our shell

and not at all who we really are
inside...

Flight Down Memory Lane

I stopped.

I stopped because I was procrastinating. Procrastinating to prepare myself for what the day held in store. It was in that moment of stillness that I turned to look out the bedroom window.

From across the alleyway I saw a pigeon sitting in the neighbor's flower pot, just beneath their windowsill. The bird shook its feathers, cooing and cawing. It was an insanely mundane sight. But I was flashed immediately back to my old apartment on Spring Street.

There I stood, an innocent at 23 years old, in the window of my former home, staring slack-jawed at my fire escape as a bird's nest appeared, twig by twig, another branch each day.

Perplexed, amazed, I'd become it's daily watchman. I hadn't yet seen an actual bird touch down. But the proof of her work was incontrovertible. A home was beginning to form.

It was truly a magic day when finally, finally... three tiny eggs arrived.

Over that sparkling summer a million things changed. Only one of which was witnessing the mother bird at last. Some time later, her babies hatched. That was just around the time that Matt arrived. But by Autumn both he and they were gone.

Only Matt returned that next summer, a Graduate from College, for what seemed to be forever... The birds, on the other hand, I never saw again.

It is now 2008 and summer arrives once more. As usual, it's gonna be a scorcher. I say, give me spring for eight months straight if possible. I could wander the streets of Manhattan in these temperate breezes until the end of time.

But as The Byrds themselves sang. "To everything- turn, turn, turn. There is a season- turn, turn, turn."

We all turn. We're turning as a culture. As a country. As a people. Each of us adapts to life's obstacles and barriers in our own way. In essence, each adapts to life itself.

I miss and don't miss that old bird's nest. I miss and don't miss my apartment on Spring Street. I miss and don't miss that time of ultimate innocence.

I'll always miss Matt. But I'm getting to the point where I no longer miss what we had. The destructiveness of being in love with an addict is bafflingly painful. And by the end, he seemed more in love with his addictions than with me.

There is no turning back the clock on life. We can return to streets and cities, but it will never be the same. It's because of this, I think, that we're so lucky for those little reminders, however fleeting or obscure.

A bird. Well, a pigeon I suppose, perching in a neighbor's flower pot. A vast expanse of memories. All mine. Washing in and out on the shore of consciousness, as impermanent as sand, a nest, the flap of a wing, sunlight, memories and life itself.

the month of may...

the month of may
brought house guests
in hordes

mom and dad
lindsey from florida
my brother will & his girlfriend hannah

nearly every weekend
was booked solid with visitors
coming to enjoy these few blissful weeks of spring

luckily we managed to fit a lot in...

opening night of "les liaisons dangereuses" on broadway
cai guo-qiang's show at the guggenheim museum
new york city's AIDS walk
a midnight screening of "sex and the city"
roof parties and loft parties

brunch after brunch
followed by dinner after dinner

and sooo much more

june just won't feel the same without them
it'll be warmer, slower, with just a hint of "empty nest"

but then there's nothing quite like family and friends
to spring you back to life

"sex and the city"

my god

sometimes stories come into our lives
that have the power to move us
beyond comprehension

they take us further
or touch us deeper
than we'd even dreamed possible

why this show?
why these characters?

if you had told me in 1999
that i'd fall in love with four
fictional middle aged women
on an hbo series

one of which was played
by that blonde witch from "hocus pocus"
i'd have said, "um, yeah, sure, I Don't Think Sooo"

but "sex and the city" is so much more
than just fashion or sex

it's the writing
the performances
the truth that's told with humor
and yes, those unbelievable clothes

see this movie
if you're one of the millions who hasn't already

it is sad
and gorgeous
fantastically unrealistic
and inspiring

it's new york

perhaps even a sliver of the heart
that beats in all of us

hardened a bit, but open and raw
always ready for experience
up to any challenge

and madly in love with love

stage fright-mare

i often awake from a dream
aware, nervous
groggy but slightly panicked

the details of the dream are always different
but the scenario remains the same

a theatre, packed
as i stand in the wings of the stage
just peeking out at the crowd

i am about to go on
the costumes, scenery, details of my character and audience size
are never the same

but the reality is
i'm moments from stepping onto that stage
and i feel totally, utterly unprepared

it's a sort of phantom pain
the sensation or memory of a lost limb

i have not been on stage in years
but the dreams are as real as ever

in that time since my last play in 2004
i've worked regularly in commercials & featured work on film
but all the burly crew guys in the world
standing, waiting, watching
can't add up to even a pinch of the anxiety in knowing
that you're about to step before an audience
unsure within yourself

i often wonder about anxiety
what good it does, if any?

the damage caused by that racing heart
the heightened awareness that your shoulders have gone tense
how unavoidably unnecessary it is to pace and sweat

i suppose for some it gets worse the older they get
once the seriousness of life sets in
once a kind of now or never pressure makes itself clear

for me it's lessened greatly
though the dreams persist
and i find myself relishing in the new comfort
within my own skin

dreams, i think, can hold a mirror up
to all the different facets of our lives
reflecting on corners of our deeper selves
we didn't know were there

a dream tells a story
but not necessarily the obvious one

i'm panicked
about to step on stage

but the truth is that i'm not in a play right now
and have never been in one when i WASN'T fully prepared
so the dream is both irrational and untrue

irrational, untrue
but continuous and ultimately unavoidable

because of that
i'm reminding myself to always be prepared
to breathe deeply & take in every moment, especially the scary ones
to be brave
and to never truly fear other people

it's a process
until i lay my head down again

the scar

beware of bathroom doors
at the restaurant park avenue spring

that's all i'm sayin'
before we begin

under different circumstances
filtered through another lens
i'm sure this story could be woven into a witty, self aware fable
about getting up again
when life, quite literally, slaps you cross the face

but i'm not too sure i'm that writer
or if this is even that time

all i know
is that after four stitches and excessive bruising
the area just beside my left eyebrow
is finally beginning to heal

i suppose i should blame marco...
my amazingly talented magician co-worker
who months ago got me phobic
of bathroom door handles

i don't touch them anymore
try not to, anyway
and predominantly because of him
& our detailed conversations about germs

so, as i was leaving this beautiful bathroom
at the restaurant park avenue spring

i gripped the bathroom door handle while still holding the hand towel
then quickly turned to throw the towel into the bin
when suddenly, BAM!
as i turned
i was pounded in the face by an incredibly heavy door

it didn't hurt
adrenaline must have set in

but instantly, blood
everywhere

and little old me
shocked, confused, a bit frightened
tip toeing towards the coat check
hand over face, hunched over
asking for a band aid

looong story short
it took a lot more than a band aid

what it took was a night with my dad in the emergency room
my parents were luckily
(if unfortunately for them)
in town at the time

and then a return to the e.r. five days later
to have the stitches removed
by a bleach blonde hospital employee
who looked almost exactly like matt

as if the entire situation had occurred
so that this exact moment could present itself

i could hear in my head...

"This is what your life could have been..."
"Visiting the hospital to see your doctor boyfriend..."
"Instead of visiting the hospital..."
"To have a surrogate stranger cut thread from your face..."

but, it was sad
because i see a lot of people that remind me of matt
he's almost everywhere to me

but this was a young man
probably just starting out his residency at mount sinai
essentially living the life that matt will never lead

and really
HOW MANY MEN
OVER THE AGE OF TWELVE
STILL HAVE COMPLETELY NATURAL BLEACH BLONDE HAIR?
honestly! maybe fifty?!

so here i am today
still healing

i told you this story wouldn't be funny
but maybe another day i'll tell it differently

that's the beauty of life, i suppose
it can always be remixed, remastered

only we own our pasts

and only we can own the scars that mark them