** I think it's time for all creative souls to step forward. Make art, teach art, give art share your soul. see if that is what it will take to help stabilize what going on in the world today. November 2016
I’m a Humanist and a Buddhist and I meditate when I can, hey no one is perfect. I’m also a thinking man. I spend a lot of time in my head. I’m trying to grow into the man I would be the most proud of. I really like the guy I am but hey who can’t be better. Loving human kind for a sensitive man like me has proven to be more difficult than I could have thought. I have not given up, I just strengthen my mission.
I’m a good conversationalist and a better kisser. I'm a Photographer, Artist, Painter, Poet, short story writer, good cook and baker. So art and Music hold major place cards in my life.
I have a wonderful Partner who is supportive and inspiring. A nicer and sweeter man I could not have imagined. His name is Herschell
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Maybe I said, feeling skeptical, why me, isn’t Jamey James your solid? Yeah, for sure but he broke his arm skating a bowl last week. Besides he hates SD. Only because he got panted at a party and he wasn’t wearing any skivvies and the whole party laughed at him, said Del. Well I can see that being a problem, I said.
OK I say again why me? It’s not like I knew these guys that well.
They claimed to have decided I was cool during a “sitch” when someone offered me a couple of joints right in front of them.
People are always offering me drugs for free or a cheaper price. What blew their minds is what I did next. I thanked the dude and as soon as he walked away, I turned to them, “Do you guys want this Primo?” They looked at me sideways and said, “Why do you want to sell it”, and “How much?” I shook my head, and I just gave it them to them.
Now this was LA so they wanted to know, what was the catch?
I said, “No catch. I don’t want it. I don’t smoke”.
“You don’t smoke this?”
“I don’t smoke anything”.
“Why not? Are you in recovery or is it against your religion?” one of them said.
“Nope, you may find this hard to believe, but I am allergic to weed in all its forms”.
They just looked at me like I had fallen from the sky-I was not used to this look yet. I only found out I was allergic about a year ago at a Parliament Funkadelic concert. People were high before they got there. Let’s just say I had a blast that ended the night in the emergency room. So Del and Kelly took the joints. Later they said it was good stuff and they would owe me one. I forgot all about it, but after that they were always super cool with me. It must have really been some good stuff.
So like I said when they asked if I wanted to go I said, maybe. I thought a trip out of LA, sun and fun with two chilled out potheads, “Coolness!” It was a three day trip so they could surf the swell and party all night, and that’s just what they did. I would have to pay for my part, so I knew my funds would be thin when I got back to Hollywood, but if the trip was fun it would be worth it.
We drove there in a classic VW van that they had borrowed from a friend. I found out that they were only a little older than me. I was 15, Kelly was 18, and Del was 17 and half. Both Del and I had fake IDs to get us into any club. Mine was better than Del’s, it helps when you have sex with the guy who makes them. He called it a master piece. Del’s ID said he was Jewish and 23 years old. Three young guys driving to SD in a surfer van would not raise anyone’s eye in ’78. When they picked me up at freakin’ 5:30 in the morning, I hadn’t even had a chance to get to sleep from the previous night. To me, it seemed like we got down to SD really fast, mostly because I slept all the way there. When I woke up they said we would be there in: 30 minutes.
I asked, “Where will we stay on the beach or what?” Kelly told me they had a friend who lived on the beach and he said we could crash there. “All of us or just you two?”, I asked. “No we called and he said if you’re cool with us, you’re cool with him”.
I had a backup plan if they were messing with me. We pulled up to this funky beach house and I told myself to just chill out and give it a chance. We all jumped out, and I started walking towards the shack when Del said “where you going bud?” then he pointed up the street. I looked and saw a sweet two story modern concrete house with a Merc in the driveway. I exhaled to myself and caught up to the guys. It was Kelly’s mother’s high school boyfriend’s place. He was also a surfer named Trent Bostrum. I never heard of him, I rarely follow sports. He competed all around the world. He hurt his shoulder and was rehabbing for this month. He was not my flavor but I can see why people would find him gorgeous. Slim Surfer type, dark tanned with red and blonde hair and green eyes. He was nice to me right from the jump, coolness. He had only three bedrooms, so I offered to sleep on the couch or in the van. It was hot in SD; I would have slept on the back deck. Trent said I could have his bedroom and he would sleep on the fold-out couch. I said I couldn’t take the bed of a guy who was being so nice to let me stay. He said no biggy Brah. I said, Fully, Brah? And he gave me the sign that it was all solid. The three of them had beers and I had the best home-made fruit juice I had ever tasted. Trent had learned how to make it in Tahiti.
Kelly and Del hit the beach and Trent and I took his custom made long-boards out for a skate. We also went to the store and picked up some steaks and more beer. Trent was surprised that I could actually ride. I just laughed. Before we bought the grub we had to do a little shredding. Everywhere we went people were saying hi to Trent. It was his city and he was one of their Kings. We had a great time and Trent’s board was sweet. He said he had it made in Hawaii. When we finally made it to the supermarket it was still early evening. Trent picked out the steaks, beer and a bucket load of fruit for more punch. I insisted on chipping in $40, he took the $20’s and shoved one down the back of my shorts. I tried to be butch all day but I screamed like a girl. He just laughed with the girl at the counter. We skated back to his place just as the Sun was going down.
There was going to be a party tonight. I went to chill out for a bit in Trent’s room. I noticed the side wall was frosted glass. I thought it was kind of cool until I heard water running and then a saw a naked male body on the other side of the glass. As soon as saw it was Del, I left the room and went into the kitchen to help with the food and stuff. Trent handed me a $20 and a $10. “Kelly owes you $10 more”. I just said, “Oh cool”, and wondered “what’s Trent playing at he only took $20 from me at the store and he paid for the rest”. He gave me a keep it low look. We ate the steaks and a potato thing I made from what Trent had around. After that Kelly and Del cleaned up as Trent and I sat on the roof watching the sea get darker and darker. People arrived about an hour later. While on the roof, I thanked Trent for being cool. He gave his typical, “No problem little Brah”. I think he liked the fact that I was not all ga-ga over the fact that he was a famous surfer like Kelly and Del.
I thought everybody at the party would be older than me, but there were a few really young faces in the small crowd. Before the party got going real good, I gave the guys about four ounces of weed that I had been keeping to help pay for my part of the gas on the trip. They looked so happy, I thought they were going to scream. Pot heads are so odd and predictable. I told them to give Trent a joint or two for letting us stay. They said good idea. Then the guys were totally scoping on some local chicks. They were the only ones there who knew that I was gay. At first these two girls, who said they went to the local high school, kept saying hi every time they passed me. I played it too cool and went and sat in the corner on the deck on three gigantic bean bags stacked on top of each other. I was next to the window so I could also see in. Trent came by to check on me and a few others brought me stuff to drink and talked to me. I had been to lots of parties before, but there was always something special about a beach party; the sound on the party and the ocean waves mixing, and the way the ocean smell drifts past you from time to time.
We stayed for two more days and started back on Monday right after the guys came in from the last morning run. Trent and I skated to the coffee shop for some morning brew. I put lots of milk and sugar in mine just like a kid. I didn’t even try to hide it. I guess after that weekend, I felt comfortable around Trent. As we skated back he said I could stay or come back any time I wanted. He also told me there were keys on the right side under the deck. I said I bet everybody around here knows that. He stopped skating and looked kind of hurt, “No way man, only three people know where the extra keys are. And two of them don’t live in this country”. I apologized for offending him. He said he could tell, I was real people and that is why he told me and not Del and Kelly, and that I should keep this to myself. “Coolness”, I said. On the drive home, I said to the guys that I wanted to go for hamburgers half way home. They said cool and started recapping all the girls they had met and what they did. I went to sleep, “ugh” straight guys. We arrived back in Hollywood late afternoon; I thanked the guys for a choice trip. I grabbed my stuff and started looking for my Hollywood Homies.
I couldn’t find any of my people, so I stashed my stuff in my usual place and set out to make some money. I went to our work spot, but there were two cop cars there. Ricky and Spunk were smashed face down on the car hoods with their too short shorts and their candy showing from the back. I asked Davey what was the D (drama)? He said the Cops were Newbies who were trying to show them a lesson when Ricky said something smart to Spunk about one of the cops having nothing better to do than mess with them. So I headed to Vine St. behind Paramount Studios where the Latin boys hung out, hoping someone would want something different.
The first hour with the Mariposa masculinos was kind of slow. They were cool enough. I just didn’t like that most of them claimed to be straight. Some had kids and wives and girlfriends. They almost always claimed they had to do it. I just thought there had to be a better way for them to make money. They were often so upset about what we did that they would get overly drunk or high to deal with their own actions.
I almost thought I was not on the menu this night, when a black convertible pulled up with a black guy driving. Hmm, did he want directions or maybe to ask me to get someone for him. This happened from time to time. In this part of LA (what would later turn into West Hollywood), black men seldom picked a black hustler for a trick. I’m not saying it never happened, but it was rare for me. I once had a good looking Black man pick me up only to not be able to do anything, claiming I looked like his little brother. If that were true, maybe that’s why he picked me in the first place? He tried for the remainder of his time to talk me out of hustling. I laughed and said if he wanted to be my benefactor I would consider it. He looked shocked, and I wondered if it was because I knew the word “benefactor” or that I would be so bold to ask. He dropped the issue.
But this night when I walked past the car, the guy gave me the look that said it’s all about you man. When I walked up to his car window, he looked as hungry as a starving man. That is just the way I liked them. Then I was in control, while his dick drained all the good sense out of him. I asked, “What’s shaken?” Trying to sound cool and older, I was not sure if being 15 would be a turn on for this guy. I did my usual checks to make sure he wasn’t a cop or crazier than I needed. I looked over at the guys I knew standing behind me to see if anyone had any objection or additions. They gave the cool sign. We made our arrangement; he wanted some hard dick down his throat in the worst way. I guess I was all he wanted and more. He agreed to the price and the instruction. We went to the spot behind the run down motel next to the freeway. It was over in about a half hour in total. Not that I was quick I could make it last as long as needed, but he blew his load all over the back window and back seat. I got my money up front as always and after he gave me an extra $20 spot. I was $50 richer and I was feeling better about the night and looking forward to my next trick. The next one came and went with a $25 hand job, easy for a young pro such as myself. The next hour was dry as the one after it. I decided to change venues and go over to Orange St., where the blond guys hung out. Sometimes I could get a double with John-John or Big Will. We liked each other enough for that to be OK and not weird. I walked past Hunter’s or Old Hound dogs as we called it. It was a young hustler bar that was held together by the need of older men to be around young boys. It was a bit much even for me. I went in there once to use the bathroom, and it felt like they could smell my 13 years through the heavy smoke and cologne. It always bothered me that my youth was what most drew a man sometimes. But tonight as a walked by, I saw Taylor. He was standing in the open door with four Cocksucker shots in hand. (Butterscotch schnapps and Bailey's with a whiskey topper) As soon as he saw me he called me over to have a shot. I had saved Taylor from a “hot shot” (bad heroin) once and when he could remember he was eternally grateful. I asked about the shots. He said some old man is buying drinks for everyone. I rarely drank at this time, but I knew what it did to numb me to the world and how far it went to make me seem less weird to the street people I met. I didn’t smoke (anything); I didn’t shoot (anything) or snort mostly anything. I hated beer and some hard alcohol. So if not for the occasional obsessive pill knowledge (thanks mom), I would have been a straight laced freak on the street. I even preferred not to curse unless the situation called for it. So Taylor gave me maybe my second or third Cocksucker shot in my whole life. It was warm going down and melted me loose in just the right way. It was sweet so I kind of liked it. I kissed Taylor on the cheek and wished him a great night and off I went to hang with the Blond boys. It was a little odd to me that they liked to pull together on one street like that, but I guess it worked for them. I heard that you could only work there regularly if you were a natural blond, not a bottle beauty. Like I said before being the opposite worked OK for a select few. Thank you very much.
When I looked across the street at Shakey’s Pizza there was a whole family of blonds coming out of the pizza place, if they only knew how close they were to having some freak snatch up one of their two teenage blond sons. I frowned to myself at the image of the kids disappearing into the night with some muscle daddy freak. I stopped at the corner to see who was out. I saw John-John and but not big Will. Maybe that was Miss Tina’s twin brother Gaby over there. Oh I did not want to do a double with a junky like Gaby. You can never tell what he would be up to next and tricks were a bit unpredictable as it was without some odd junky behavior thrown in. Maybe Gaby would introduce me around to some of the more stable guys. I was standing there on the corner trying to make out the guys in the middle of the block without looking like a scary black kid. All of the sudden, someone grabbed me from the back and lifted me up. I hated that stuff and I was always scared so I had my box-cutter in my hand right away waiting to see who it was and what they were going to do. I heard the giant man laugh and he was not hurting me just lifting me off the ground. Whoever it was he better put me down quick. I turned around and saw Big Will. This white boy was the poster child for corn-fed mid-western lad. He stood 6’8” and not really an ounce of fat. He liked me because we were both from the Mid-west. Will was as blond as wheat and so fair skinned he glowed at night. Sometimes he was a bit too rambunctious for me like tonight. I exchanged a weary what’s happening with his super smiley hey Buddy. I put my box-cutter away. I told him I was looking for work over here tonight. He sounded open to a little two on one action and then started introducing me to some other cool guys. Jamie, Kyle, Chris and some guy called Blue (if you get around blond hustlers someone will be called Blue, ugh!) They all seemed cool enough. With someone like Big Will backing you they would no doubt let you in. Just as I was trying to find out who knew who, a long black limo pulled up. This was not too uncommon, sometimes kids rented limos and cruised to strip or some weak ass movie star on his way down got the itch. So we were aware but not pressed, never pressed.
So the night was going good, when Miss Tina Mac a.k.a. Terry (never to be used) showed up on Santa Monica Blvd. Dressed in her usual evening before work wear, a basic black dress to the knee, black patent leather pumps, a string of pearls and her hair pulled back to a tasteful bun with a diamond hair pin stuck in it. You see Miss Thing was a working Show Girl. She started out here in the trenches with us, and then she worked her way up to a performing career and only an occasional trick, if they were VSP (very special piece). She would always show up on the scene with lots of hugs and kisses. Miss Tina Mac always said she felt more comfortable around us boys than any commoners. I don’t think she was legendary yet, but she would be someday we were all sure of it.
This evening Miss Tina needed an escort over to Orange Drive where the blonde boys hung out. Any of us young guys would have been happy to walk with her, but at the moment we were all working. I had pulled two tricks already and tonight Jamal was getting on my last good nerve. Usually he and I were cool, but never tight. So I decided to speak up and volunteer.
She seemed pleased, “I can always count on you to come to the aid of a lady”.
“It would be my pleasure Miss”, I opted for Miss, thinking it made her seem young and fresh and she was somewhat
I was dressed well enough that night that she felt OK to take my arm and we were off. I liked Miss Tina Mac because she treated all of us better than most drag personas we came across. Sometimes she would come and get one of us to help her carry coffee or hot chocolate back for the rest of us or she would take one or two of her favorites out for a meal. I being lucky and smart in life, worked hard to be one of those people. I had an in, because Rainbow is my girl and her friend does Miss Tina’s hair. Apparently, they said nice things about me when my name came up. I always felt I was lucky that way, but people said that it was not luck, but the way I carried myself. It took me years to understand what they meant. I always said that my great grandmother raised me well. She is still alive but far away, so I look up to the sky and say a little thank you to her for all she tried to do in the short time I lived with her.
So Miss Tina and I started walking down Santa Monica Blvd. I always let her set the tone. If she wanted to talk she would or if she just wanted to be quite that was OK too. If she really felt comfortable that you could represent yourself well and not embarrass her she would ask if it was OK if we stop off at someone’s place from her never-ending list of really good friends. Unless I’m pressed I will say fine by me. Around Miss Tina I tried to be more like her; “Never Bothered and Never Pressed.”
This evening she said, “Hey T, do you mind if we stop by a girlfriend’s house to pick up a necklace of mine she borrowed?”
“Fine by me”, I said and she smiled and squeezed my arm closer.
Miss Tina’s friend lived in a regular looking apartment on the third floor. The door looked metal and made a hollow sound when I knocked on it for Miss Tina. As we waited, I thought to myself, “This could be boring or very nice”. Miss Tina would never let an evil queen of any sort have at the boys that escorted her. Well, maybe if they deserved it for not living up to her standards. I was most definitely not one of those boys. I knew how to act even around impolite ladies of the manly varieties. The door opened and a five foot tall, extra dark chocolate lady with a pink and red flowered scarf covering beer can size pink plastic rollers. Her night wrap was a red silk Chinese dressing gown with fuzzy red mules. Topping off this wild vision there were bright green contacts staring at me like I was the wrong dinner that was already two hours late but will have to do.
Miss Tina broke her spell by saying, “Cleo! Cleopatra Destiny Williams! Do you hear me talking to you girl? Or would you prefer your given name? - Snap out of it Miss Thing”.
Cleo shot back, “How you doing girl? You know I was waitin’ for you. Get in here; you know I don’t entertain on the front step”.
All the time she was eyeing me like I was a taste or a thief or a tasty thief, I couldn’t tell.
Miss Tina Mac saw this and said, “Cleo this is my escort for the evening Mr.” (I was about to jump in and help her out, no one but my closest of close knew my last name) “Mr. Ted Kingston”.
I looked shocked for a split second, while Miss Tina snuck a wink at me, “and your hostess in this beautiful place is none other than the Devine Miss Cleopatra Williams”.
I smiled “Not Cleopatra Destiny Williams? I always feel when you meet a lady of stature for the first time one should be properly introduced”. I took her hand and kissed it. They both giggled like school girls.
“Girl and he’s only fourteen, can you stand it and he was raised right by somebody”.
Miss Cleo looked me over again, “Are you sure? My girlfriend Sara has a son who is about 14 and he is nothing like this one. What is your name again?”
“Ted, Miss Williams”, I said pouring it on thick, “But most people around here call me T or TK”.
She frowned,” That’s enough with that Miss Williams stuff, you can call me Cleo”.
Miss Tina smiled, “You must be something T, because usually Cleo don’t care for chocolate, she says it breaks her out in a rash.”
“Shut up girl this young man is sweet”. “Why is he spending time with a wanna be Lady like you?”
I smiled at the obvious tease between good friends.
“T was sweet enough to volunteer to escort me over to Orange Drive to see if Gabrielle is there before my show”.
“Damn girl, you are still chasing that no account brother of yours? He just takes and takes and won’t change. I admire you for keeping up with family but you know how I feel about Gabby”.
“Cleo. I know, I know girl, but what can I do, he’s my twin?”
“I know girl but dam”.
As always if you get two close drag queens together and you are not Trade or a Mark they will from time to time forget you are there and that was usually fine with me. Chat-chat and giggle-giggle they went on for about fifteen minutes. I started to look around at Cleo’s place; it was nicer than I thought; no gold or animal prints or feathers which are the usual feature in most drag personas apartments. It was tasteful beyond what I had come to expect from my time out on the Boulevard. More like the houses of some of my high school friends. Miss La Joy might even feel OK being in this place, well maybe even with these two ladies. I laughed to myself at making my mother sound like a Drag Queen. She would have given me such a look.
“T…..T, hello that is what you’re called, right?”, said Cleo; pulling me away from thinking about my family, something that I seemed to be doing a lot lately.
“Yes Empress? How may I help you?” I smiled a sly smile. I think Miss Cleo actually blushed. She’s as dark as me so it was hard to tell. But being a Pro she recovered quickly.
“Child no one dozes off in this place but me. Are you on something?”
“No Cleo I’m not, well not at the moment. I was admiring your beautiful apartment.”
“I was talking to my sister and she said you have a nice home with parent and all and you choose to come out here and stay with the children on the streets. Is that true?”
“Well I guess it is a nice home but it was never my home. There was a certain Hell there that you either live through or leave. I chose to leave. The nice home, Lady Tina speaks of, is for my mother and her husband.”
“Oh did they kick you out?” asks Miss Tina.
“No. I think I am almost always welcome if I follow their rules”.
“Was that the problem?” asks Miss Cleo, “were you one of those mannish little black boys. Always getting into trouble?”
“Not really, I am as you see me here. I was raised to be a gentleman.”
“Look little man put it down sharply. Why are you living on the street with the riff raff, when you could be at a nice fuckin’ home with your brothers and sisters?”
“Hmm, OK, I don’t usually discuss my business like this but since you asked so nicely I’ll reveal. I have only been in California for four years; I started out in Springfield, Missouri (leaving out being born in Detroit, Michigan) I lived there with my great grandmother”.
The ladies looked at me oddly. “You knew your great grandmother? I barely knew both of my grandmothers”, said Cleo.
Miss Tina said, “I knew both of my grandmothers, my mother’s mother was a total B-I. She hated my father for being with my mother and I and my twin always reminded her of him so she hated us too”.
Cleo looked at her as if to say, “Shut up bitch this is not your story hour”.
Miss Tina stopped talking and said “please continue T”, and then rolled her eyes at Cleo.
“Well my great grandmother raised my grandmother, my mother and me. She had 11 kids. My grandmother was the second oldest but didn’t have a kid until her twenties which was kind of different for that family; usually the girls had babies early and often. She didn’t want to be tied down with my mother, so she begged her mother and father to take care of her daughter. They agreed if she worked and sent money home to help. So my mother grew up with her uncles and aunts. When she got PG she gave me to the lady who raised her because she didn’t want kids either”.
“Damn!” said Cleo, “that’s cold”.
“Well even colder when you know she didn’t even bring me home from the hospital, my great grandmother and great grandfather did. My Mother also had her tubes tied so she would not make that mistake again. So because it started looking bad that she would leave her only child with her aging grandmother, she brought me to California with her current husband. She only told him after they were married that she could not have any new children with him. That house is their reality; mine had to be somewhere else. This is just a road to find it”.
“Why don’t you go back to your great grandmother’s house?” said Miss Tina.
“Well she would have me in a minute but she was so good to me I don’t want to be a burden to her or anyone”.
“Girl did I tell you he goes to school and has an A+ average”, said Miss Tina.
I smiled at her and said, “I guess I’m going to have to tighten my security. How do you know so much about me?”
“Yeah girl how do you know all his business?” asked Cleo.
“I have been asking around ever since we met last year at that dance in Plumber Park. This guy threw down! He peeed for it all. Really girl, not like the tired dancers we see at the shows around here. No girl T gets down, like he’s trained or something”.
They both looked at me, like well?
I said, “I know a step or two. Thank you, Miss Tina for your kind words”.
Cleo looked at me and said, “Why do you talk like that? Half white and half black, but black from somewhere nice. Where is this nice home, Baldwin Hills?”
“No, in Long Beach”, I lied (they can’t know everything).
“I bet it’s in the rich part, your mother’s some kind of rich socialite Bitch, right?”
“Nope, she’s just the regular kind”.
We all laughed.
After about a half hour later Miss Tina asked for the necklace that she had lent to Cleo supposedly for a hot date. We made our way to the door and as I shook the hand of Ms. Cleopatra Destiny Williams and thanked her for a wonderful evening. She said it was her pleasure and I could come by anytime. Even though her smile was genuine I knew already that this was not really true, it was the evening. If you were not a very good friend or the #1 lover of a lady such as Cleo or Miss Tina you should wait to be directly invited to their home or you surely would get read.
As Miss Tina and I walked away arm and arm I was sure my ears would be burning when they saw each other again. Most likely after Miss Tina Mac’s midnight show. I walked Miss Tina over to Orange Drive to the original destination. We found he twin brother Gabby she wanted to check in on. I never noticed how much they looked alike. If her brother wasn’t such a junky they could’ve done a great brother-sister act. After she finished, I returned Miss Tina to the back door of the Gold room. She offered me a chance to come in and wait with her while she got ready and to see her show. I had to decline; the call of the Riff Raff as Cleo put it, was getting louder every minute. She smiled and hugged me tight saying thank you and she thought Cleo really liked me. After about a block away I stuck my hand into my back pocket and pulled out a $20.00, I guess Miss Tina Mac still has fast hands.
What a lady.
My smile lit up all the streets as I walked back to my people.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
A lighter shade of red
The color of some folk’s cheeks
The name of a wonderful singer, and the code name for one of the tough Gangsters in Reservoir Dogs
The color of many, many flowers and really cool coral
It’s a great color for spring and after the 80’s I thought most men would understand that just wearing it would not question their masculinity.
I remember a few years ago, a mid level rapper Camron, wore a pink dipped outfit [t-shirt, pants, hat and shoes] including pink diamonds. This guy was a known lady’s man and a somewhat tough guy and people still gave him a hard time. While his fans came around quickly, it took a lot of press discussion before the media let go of it and some people still call his sexuality in to question.
Today I sit in coffee shop surrounded by good natured people of all kinds. I’m wearing light pink dress shirt with a pink t-shirt underneath and blue jeans. I have had more women walk past to either smile or comment on how much they like the color of my shirt. One woman brought her nice but sad husband over to say see that men can wear pink. [Underline and not look funny] I have been wearing this color since I was in fourth grade, when my Mom washed a red shirt of mine in with the whites, isn’t that always the way it starts. My Aunt managed to save most of the white clothes but the red was lost for good. She threw it away and I rescued it. I wore to school, they called me Pinky Tuscadero from the Happy Days TV show and said “pink, pink you know you stink”. So then I only wore it on the weekends. My friends didn’t care what I wore and my relatives thought I was being different [code name]. When I got to the 7th grade I went to a car show with my cousins. I’ve never really been into cars my whole life. I’ve only really liked two cars completely, an old school Porsche and a VW Carmengia. They were both at this car show. Being me, I talked about them to anyone who would listen. One of my wonderful Uncles bought me a silver Porsche 911 toy car. I loved it so much, I took it to school. To one up me, another kid had his parents buy him a silk BMW shirt. So I asked my powers that were for a Porsche shirt, my Mom found one and she was so happy when she brought it home. I opened the bag and it was a hot pink silk shirt with a silver Porsche 911 on the back. I wanted to cry. Pinky all over again, But I wore it on Monday anyway. Dam the torpedoes and full steam ahead and all that. I got to school and everyone thought it was the coolest shirt, I had worried for nothing. After that even more, I wore what I wanted to wear. Now I’m a grown gay man so the rules are different, besides dark skin black men look good in pink. lol
So summer is just about here, so fellas show the ladies that you are a free thinker and don so pink. If you are not that bold start with a t-shirt or a dress shirt. Ladies you know what to do, right? T
Some words from a professional- http://www.mensflair.com/
Spring is a time to consider these little wardrobes-within-a-wardrobe; as the weather warms, and the waistcoats are put away, the tie takes centre stage in the ensemble once more. There is, to my mind, no quintessential ‘spring tie’; there are ties one would wear in this period one would never wear in autumn or winter, but there isn’t a definitive stretch of silk that every man should own for spring, but merely ideas; combinations and contrasts. For example, spring is a time for colour variation. Not that autumn and winter tones need, or indeed should be colourless rather that, like Mother Nature herself, the vividity of the tones should be carefully considered.
The glory of Spring’s natural beauty has inspired musicians and poets to songs and sonnets. The wonderful energy and majesty of a tiny but brilliant zest-coloured flower sprouting from the fields gives one’s mind a little lift; it’s remarkably stimulating and rousing. A similar satisfaction can be derived from careful colour selection – you’d be surprised how a little consideration can give you such pleasing results.
The most eyecatching colour mixing can only occur when coloured shirts are used – white shirts are indeed smart and have the crisp, fresh elegance of a spring, but for the brighter, lighter ties of spring, the expanse of white tends to dilute the tones rather unhappily. Spring should be a time to expand your collection of coloured shirts; light blues, royal blues, ivy greens, daffodil yellow, salmon pinks. I would plump for smaller checks and stripes for the full colour effect and also because loud checks and stripes, with even louder ties, are dreadfully mismatched.
Salmon pink is a glorious colour to employ at springtime and has excellent adaptability; working very well with buff, grey or navy suits. Ties can be either brash and playful – light blue, or lemon and cream striped, or a little more conservative (but no less impressive) – grass green or navy polka dot. I think a light grey suit, salmon pink shirt and navy polka dot tie is complete Spring chic.
The Big Blue
Most chaps are more than willing to break from the monotony of white-shirted wardrobes at anytime of year with a mid to light blue number, but when the sunny, warm days of mid-Spring are here, and the sky seems somehow bluer, it’s time to consider a more intense indigo; a big blue. Such a shirt works well with a range of ties, though arguably the range is smaller than that of a lighter shirt; salmon pinks, grass greens and sky blues match well.
Pinks, purples and even oranges and yellows are often considered feminine colours. Turquoise is regularly regarded to have that jewel-like brightness that only a woman can be seen in. However, using feminine colours in moderation alongside male classics such as school blazer grey, navy blue, black and racing green will dilute the acidic effect they can often have. Playing merry hell with such colours will lead to the ice-cream-Florida-retirement-home sartorial disaster; I learned my lesson long ago about being too ‘brave’ in this regard.
Monday, May 11, 2009
From the book "Fresh from the Rotten tree" working title
In two weeks it will be m 13th birthday.
I started the day on the couch of a friend of one of my new friends. His name is Ben but he told me at least 200 times that he wants to be called Colt, but I knew from the first night I met him. I started the minute I met him. The problem is when he meets new people he says, Hi my name is Ben, but I like to be called Colt. Most new people still call him Ben or Benny or Benji. The last two he really hates.
So I met Colt when I was at my cousin Rich’s Apartment here in Hollywood after I ran away from home. Yeah that right I ran away from home before I turned 13 well 12 to be closer to the truth. But running away from home is a whole other story. I’m sure I’ll get to it sooner or later.
It’s 6am Saturday morning and I lay here on a once nice beige couch, beer and soda stained and smelling very lightly of piss. It belongs to what seems like a nice but worn out lady with 3 kids, 1 of which woke me up with her night terrors. She was screaming that the man was coming to get her. I wondered who that could be. I bet I don’t really want to know.
So I sit here thinking about my stupid 13th birthday. I know most boys my age are thinking about new bikes and what they will do on their summer vacation. That is the least of my thoughts. I’m out on the street because my cousin who I ran to because he was the only cool outsider in the family. I was only at his place a few weeks. He always told me if I needed anything just call. He seemed to understand me before I did. He had to go and get himself arrested for drug possession and intent to sell. He knew it was coming so he gave me a wad of cash to eat and take care of myself. He said he would be gone for about two years. I hid the money and a note for emergencies in a secrete spot in my ever present backpack. A kid with a backpack never calls attention.
So here I am thinking about my first birthday away from home. There is usually a party and at least two cakes. This year I’ll be lucky to get anything more than a Happy Birthday and some dufus wanting to spank me 13 times. I seriously hate that junk.
It’s two weeks from today, maybe I’ll spend it at the beach and I love the thought of that. I’ll use some of the money my cousin left me. He has been gone 4 months so far. I’m only spending it when I have to. I guess I can splurge a little. The tricks we turn keep us in food and a place for a night. The others buy drugs with some of the money. My cousin must have told them not to offer my any, because they never do and when someone else does they get all protective. That’s cool because I don’t really like drugs. I haven’t done many tricks many tricks by myself. The guys try and look out for me as much as possible, they often feel like the big brother I never had.
Today we’re going to Long Beach to pick up some clothes for our girl Rainbow. Her name is Anne, but because of her multicolored hair everyone calls her Rainbow. OK since I’ve introduced you to two of the crew you might as well meet the rest.
There is Colt; he is the oldest at 17.
Kenny is 15,
De De or Daphnie is almost 15,
Tim is 14 but looks 19 and calls himself Trouble.
Rainbow is 16 and her sister Sarah, who sometimes goes by Sahara like the desert, she is rarely around, I think because she’s a hard core junky she is 20. I’m the youngest I go by Ted, not Theodore and never Teddy and for sure not Teddybear, ugh!! As I said I will be 13 soon.
Before you get all upset no one forced me to turn tricks with men. I did it so I would not have to beg for anything from my cousin or the guys. That’s what they did to get money so hey when in Rome.
I had just come out to my parents’ right before my 12th birthday and after the initial shock they acted like I hadn’t said word one. They still won’t talk about it. What ev’.
So I get up from the couch, thankful that it’s not the sidewalk I slept on two days ago. Ms. Brenda said I could clean up in the morning. So I folded my blanket and sheet like a good house guest and quietly found the bathroom just past the kitchen. As I washed my face in the sink I think is this my new life, sleeping with men for money and couch surfing with people I don’t know? We’ll see. I have already changed a little. I don’t like showers because twice already men have just come into the shower with me. I didn’t ask them to. One guy got it and when I asked him to wait until I was finished he said, Who the fuck do you think you are lil’ bit? I’ll kill you right here and wash what’s let down the drain. So I let him stay. He was old and ugly, maybe 30 or 35. I rinsed off and started to get out. He grabbed me by the back of my neck and pushed me against the slimy tile wall. I had my back to him but I could feel him shaking and grunting behind me. I thought OK wait and see what’s going to happen before you react. What would I do,
nothing? He was way bigger and tougher than me. Just encase I clenched my butt muscles tight. Then I felt him shutter and I felt something warm and wet on my back, GROSS! He leaned close to my ear. That’s a jail house welcome, he said. I must have looked totally freaked and mad at the same time. He looked me right in the eye as I washed off my backside. I wasn’t going to fuck you I’m not some kind of pervert. What? I got out and dried off and walked in the bedroom and saw my cousin’s buddy Big Dex. It was this girl’s crash pad so I was surprised to Big Dex. He could see I was mad and asked what happened, I told him. He told me to get dressed and left the room. [Why do people feel the need to tell you stuff you’re already doing?] I heard yelling from the other room and then quiet. I was very naive to some things then. So I finished dressing and repacked my backpack. When I came out of the back bedroom I saw Dex talking to Ms. Gina. She quickly apologized to me for what happened. Trying to be grown, I thanked her for the use of her shower and towel, but I was still freaked.
Dex and I walked out and across the street to his car. I asked Dex did he do something that I should thank him for. Dex smiled a big toothy face spreading smile and said, Noooo not me. (I have already found Dex to be a super nice guy as far as I’m concerned.) I’m guessing in other situations he’s a killer. I know he carries a gun. He loves my cousin Rich more than cooked food and that’s saying something. Big Dex is 6’8” and I’m guessing close to 300lbs of mostly muscle. His dad is a large black bouncer at a club in NYC and his mom is a Chinese exotic dancer. Black & Chinese is an interesting mix.
I washed my body with the end of a towel and brushed my teeth. As I got close to the living room I could hear the TV. I see the oldest of Ms. Brenda’s 3 kids Robert. He is watching cartoons and eating cereal. He asked if it was OK if he watched the TV. I said Hey I’m a guest in your home go ahead. My Great Grand Mother taught me well. He smiled and goes in the kitchen and returns with a big bowel and some milk. He said, do you like Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch? I said, Does the Cap’n have a boat? He smiled and poured me a bowel. Here is a kid only 3 years younger than me and he is sharing his prize cereal with me. I got I was touched. So I got down on carpet right next to him for some prime Saturday morning ‘toon watching. Before Ms. Brenda and the other two got up we already had watched some Transformers, Tom and Jerry hour and Bugs and friends. I thanked her for the couch and the use of her bathroom. I thanked Robert for the cereal. Ms Brenda’s eyebrow went up. What kind of cereal did he give you? Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch. She smiled and said Snoopy must like you, he never shares his Special Cap’n Crunch with anyone, not even his sister or brother. I looked at him and bowed dramatically and thanked him again. Before I left Ms. Brenda was smiling so I guess it was not too bad that I was there. As I left I made a mental note to buy Robert a jumbo size box of his favorite cereal and some flowers for his mother as a thank you.
Now to find the guys.
This dream is odd only because it has my Great Aunt's husband- James Porter Hughes in it.
My dreams are often like this so that part is not that strange.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
In the dream we kind of ran into each other at a party that is already getting fuzzy as I write this. I was at what felt like a college party and it seemed out of time, like it was from the 70’s or half 70’s half 2009. But it was held in these hotel bungalows that were light blue and white outside and avocado green, yellow and orange inside. There were maybe 8 rows of 20. There was music, dancing, talking and people looking and stuff on a modern computer.
I woke up on a sofa got stretched and grabbed my hat and jacket off the door and went outside and started walking. You know how when you’re in a dream and you’re going one way and end up another. That’s what happened and I ran into my Great Uncle, James Porter Hughes, again from the party last night. We all called him Uncle Porter. That was set way before I came along. We were both dressed in cool kind of I-Spy suits with hats and Sunglasses. Then we were looking for something but I didn’t really know what it was. I just went along with the search. Then we got in a car and went to a house and Uncle Porter did most of the talking. It seemed like this was his adventure and I was just along for support and for some reason that was fine. We talked with the woman there and then her kids. He got what he could out of them and we went outside and sat at a picnic style table in the open field next to the house we came out of. There were people playing softball/touch football and bad mitten. The some little kids came over to ask if we were the men looking for (blank). He said maybe, what do you know about (blank)? They said not much (blank) used to come here but now doesn’t. He smiled at them and they went and played right next to the table. Then these 4 or 5 guys came over. They were like people from the deep American South, clichés really old red running shorts or overhauls with torn t-shirts only one had shoes. I didn’t feel like we were even in the US for some reason. As the one talked to us I noticed the others doing what seemed like circus tricks. The smaller one would jump on the bigger ones back whilst he was bent over with his back flat and then the bigger one would crouch low and jump throwing the smaller one up high in the air who would alternately flip or flatten at the highest part. The other one or two walked on their hands and did back-flips over and over. About that time I remember I had seen small odd shaped Bees there and they came into focus again. So I and the kids and the latter two of the country tumblers were aware of the bees the other were not as much. The guy being thrown in the air only had on these loose red running shorts from the 80’s and some kind of ball hugging underwear. I say this because his balls were hanging out of his shorts and they were the size of a California grapefruit. No one seemed to notice but me, typical, just typical. He was about 4 foot tall and very tight framed. His junk popping out like that didn’t seem to bother him at all. As I tried to dodge the bees that were stinging me on the arms as I watched the pale dirty white muscular acrobats. My Great Uncle Porter questioned the leader who was about 4foot 5inches tall and looked in the face to be about 50 years old but his body, skin and actions seemed more like 25 years old. He would talk whilst walking on his hands then doing flips off the table. Great Uncle Porter got what he wanted from them, writing in his small leather note book all the time and we left. We were back at the bungalows and talking to a cleaning woman who let us into one bungalow that lead to another and another. We found drunken naked people lying around and who pointed us this way and that. Then we step out of a door and over a guy laying on the steps. We were out on a hill top vista that wasn’t there before, looking past the back of a Catholic shrine in white marble and red brick. Then he said he remembered this view of the mountain across the way that had waterfalls and three peaks. On the right side of the shrine with the ladies and two stern looking priests there was a path that lead down the back of a large concrete and brown brick stage. My Uncle Porter said it was one of his favorite parts of this part of Copenhagen, Denmark. As we came around to the front I saw a large band of Asian guys playing jazz and spread out a crossed the length of this brick, surrounded bandstand. It was easily the length of a football field. There were people every were drinking, talking and listening to those cool cats playing really great music. We crossed right below the stage and my Uncle Porter was digging it. But he moved us forward and I started sliding faster between the crowed. It’s just something I can usually do when I need to. I realized I had lost him in the crowd. I turned around and looked for him. I started to feel a little panicky and looked in every direction. I could feel my heart racing and I woke up.
One of the odd parts about this dream to me is I didn’t really like this particular uncle and I don’t remember James Porter Hughes every being that cool. We never hung out and I often dreaded going anywhere with him because he was mostly a serious person who believed in work and pleasing white people whom he felt he owed something to. He was the Husband of my Mother Aunt, which makes him my Great Uncle. He died around 1998 or 2001. I had Uncles whom I liked a whole lot more than him, why come to me in a dream? He has four kids of his own and a wife. What the hell were we looking for? It seem like we were hired to do this. I feel it might have been a book.