*a glimpse into the life of a 3rd ward hustler, who might be a little off in the head
On Sunday afternoon I was at Publix making some groceries, and I bought 5 $2 Loteria lottery scratch offs. When I scratched, I hit $20. I drive back to Publix, not to cash in my money but to buy $40 of Loteria tickets. At the crib, I scratch and hit 3 or 4 small wins, totaling $46. I return to Publix, not to cash in my winnings, but to buy more. This time I buy 50 of the $2 Loteria tickets and 20 $5 20x pay scratch offs. I’m gettin’ ready to blow up, 3rd ward Magnolia ya heard? I start to scratch, and scratch, and scratch, and I gots nothing. I horrifically won $8 on $100 of the Loteria tickets. I move on to the 20x pay, I know they gonna win for sure. I scratch and scratch and scratch, this is some bullcorn. I win $22 on the $100 of 20x tickets. My $200 investment has netted me $30…and my child support is due! They gonna have to garnish my wage again :(
I found these VHS tapes in the dumpster behind the Metro Thrift Store. I was walking the dogs, not just randomly digging through garbage. O Brother, Where Art Thou? and As Good As It Gets are both classics, in fact one of my catch phrases that I say to whoever is in earshot (while looking around at my shabby office or apartment and shaking my head) is “What if this is as good as it gets?”
I am giving these treasures to my beautiful young friend Melissa, for 2 reasons:
1. She has a VCR, like a unicorn
2. I try not to dig too far into her past, but she is 25 years old and has never seen E.T. or Forrest Gump or any movies all human beings, and babies, have seen. She will love George Clooney and Jack Nicholson in these roles, I’m kinda like a gay cultural attache or sumthin’…next week, I’ll train my 20-something year-old girlfriends on poppers
*I almost got a Brussels Griffon after seeing Verdell
My Wagon Wheel flea market purchases:
A raccoon $4
8 travel size and 1 regular toothpaste $3
dented tortilla Pringles 50 cents
hot cinnamon sugar almonds $3
canvas/painting in a good frame, to be provided to one of my emerging artists to paint over $5
CVS generic Tylenol 50 cents
Red sunglasses $1 (I think they Versace)
Their Grandpa just lost his wife of 63 years, and their elderly dog had recently died as well. If this doesn’t make you shed a tear, you’re a terrorist, kill yourself, dead
atlanta, gay, inspirational, LGBT, lifestyle, love, Neil Gaiman, perspective, point of view, queer, relationships, romance, trust your dreams trust your heart and trust your story, what dreams may come
I dream, big bright vivid detailed dreams. I almost always remember my dreams when I wake, or my dream is so intense or troubling or happy that it wakes me with it’s intensity. After Katrina I had nightmares about New Orleans for years, that we were drowning, that we didn’t escape. Thankfully, I no longer have those nightmares, but they have been replaced with a recurring dream that show no signs of ending. My dream co-star was my ex for a few years, but he has now been replaced by my current dream guy Tom. Tom and I are in New Orleans, during Katrina, and we are in standing water. Though I should be frantic, I’m not, because I have Tom and he will take care of me. He has Cricket under one arm and Squeak under the other, and together we wade out of the city. It’s not lost on me that in my dream Tom has the two most precious things in the world to me in his arms, and that instead of worrying I am reassured. I have had this dream at least 10 times in the past month, and it always ends with our rescue. I understand that this is not about Katrina, it’s my dream of being rescued, of being safe and secure and loved. There is a full moon tonight, and the dogs and I are all restless. I will almost certainly be dreaming about Tom in a few short hours, and I will be safe and happy. I am willing to do almost anything to have him truly love me, in my waking dream, not just in sleepy time.
*I posted this at around 11 p.m. last night. I then decided I would message Tom on facebook,mainly to make sure he saw the post. I type his name in and he doesn’t pop up. I look at our message history and it says I cannot start a conversation with him. He has unfriended me. I have given up my apartment and I am applying for jobs in Atlanta based at least partially on him, getting to know him, falling in love with him, I have such big plans, I am so hopeful. It all comes crashing down on me. I had imagined him as being so sweet and kind and a true gentleman…you sir are no gentleman. It’s my fault for creating an obviously incorrect idea of him, I wanted him to be my knight in shining armor, instead he is an old and sad stereotype…like me.
I cry a little and don’t sleep much. When I do fall asleep, I don’t dream of Tom rescuing me, and I don’t dream of Katrina. I have another stress dream that I have had numerous times over the years. I am in the woods with the dogs, and there is a bear. Cricket and Squeak get away from me, running off toward the bear. I then understand that the bear has killed them, and there is nothing I can do to help them. I wake up crying, and reach for my babies, to make sure they are okay. I fall back asleep, crying, understanding there is nothing I can do to help me.
In the beginning there was House music
And House music had its own groove
And from this groove came the groove of all grooves
When one day some DJ’s declared
“Let this House be progressive”
And progressive house was born
I have my highs, and I have my lows. This week I have been exceptionally lonely and prone to cry. My friend and co-worker Mike is in a training class, so I was volunteered to take one of his children for a psychiatric evaluation and psychotropic medication consult. Jenny (not her real name) is almost 4 years old, a chunky little nugget with pigtails and that raspy voice that some little kids have. When I pick her up at the daycare at the crack of dawn I am informed she hasn’t had breakfast, but we are running late so there is no time to stop. We get to the doctor’s office and wait, and wait, and wait. Jenny never gets cross, or pouts, or whines. I get in the floor and we play house, then she cooks me some food in the kitchen, then we color, then we are farmers with all of her animals, then she plays games on my phone until it dies. She knows we are going to McDonald’s and asks when we can leave every 5 minutes. At 11:45 I finally complain, and then I’m asked to bring Jenny back “around 1:30″ because the doctor has a mandatory staffing and she can’t be seen until then.
We go to McDonald’s, where Jenny gets a Happy Meal, quickly making her cheeseburger, fries, apples and Sprite disappear. My little nugget has a few of my chicken nuggets as well. Not-her-case-manager buys us ice cream cones AND chocolate chip cookies, with me praising her for being such a good girl. When we return to the doctor’s office Jenny draws a picture of us, and then I show her a picture of my dogs and she draws them as well. She is still happy, laughing, playing…such a good girl! The doctor finally sees us at 3 p.m., and Jenny has her meltdown shortly after. She yells and cries and runs in and out of people’s offices. I explain to the doctor that she hadn’t had her nap and that she was tired and cranky. I have a bag of toys in my trunk and am forced to promise to give her three of them if she will stop running away from me, stop yelling and get in the car. Once she is seat-belted in and digging through the toys (choosing Stitch, the Cookie Monster and a meerkat) she is fine and happy again. As we near her foster home, she asks me if I am staying for dinner. I say No, I have to go home to my puppies. She asks if I will come in and play with her for “just a few minutes” because now we are best friends. My heart, which she already had, melts. Of course I do go inside and play Barbies with her for about 15 minutes, garnering a quizzical look from the 60-year old foster mother. I don’t care, I just smile and play with her dolls, because she has made me happy today, with her continued good mood and positive energy. I might be crying a little as I write this, but they are happy tears, given to me by a precious little one, a chunky little angel :)
“Such a perfect day, you made me forget myself…I thought I was someone else, someone good”
Special Jury Prize at Sundance
introducing Tessa Thompson
Professor: I read your entire 15 page unsolicited treatise on why Gremlins is actually about white suburban fear of black culture
Tessa Thompson: What, that Gremlins are loud, talk in slang, are addicted to fried chicken and freak out when you get their hair wet?
animals, atlanta, best gay blog, buy John's book on Amazon, Cricket the French Bulldog, culture, dating, french bulldog, funny, gay, gay blog, humor, interior design, Konichiwa Bitches, Lesbian, LGBT, Outrageous Interiors, pets, pop culture, queer, relationships, Squeak the Boston Terrier, Tampa Bay, the struggle is real
The Struggle is Real Ya’ll…Konichiwa Bitches
I am flawed, hopefully not fatally so. I am no longer young, and that makes me not as attractive, to most. I don’t make very much money, and haven’t lived up to my potential. But I’m empathetic, and kind, and dogs and children unfailingly like me. I still have the capacity to love. I have to believe that someone is out there for me, someone who will love the less-than-perfect me, someone who will see that I’m the same boy I used to be.
She Photographed Herself Everyday For A Year. This just looked like another one of those videos where someone takes a picture of themselves every day of the year, but by the end you realize it was something much different.
The family’s daughter had been away at college for 2 years, and this schnauzer was so happy to see her again! Another example of why I love dogs more than just about anything :)