Thursday, July 31, 2008


The trap of the senses.
It leads me down all sorts of paths-
Cheesy, salty, sweet, sour or spicy,
hunger could lead to them all
in the middle of the night
I awake with the pang,
my thighs digress as
the nighttime function
known as sleep
turns all calories into fat.

The pangs of the belly
howl when I am depressed-
leading to an empty hollow need
that is only temporarily
filled by food.
Leaving me feeling worse.
Somedays I want
to not be hungry,
to not be a slave
to my body.

Like love we all
need food to survive.
Just one more trait
that makes us at one
with the animals
that surround us.
I fast like Gandhi
to overcome the sensual satisfaction
that is food.
But hunger-

"the end"

Depressed Angels.

Wandering above the buildings
in the night sky.
the pain of the planet
has reached the other realms.
The Angels cry
over the new york city skyline.
The darkness below
has swept their love away,
attached to this pain,
there is nothing,
on this earth plane
that can heal the depressed angels.
But still they wonder
when love is coming
to save each another.
Fly, angels, fly.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

I Digress

Seattle Coffee Shop
drunken caffeine addicted
still missing you in this
city of my childhood dreams
I Pray to the light
to take me out of this place
and bring me home
to a place called heaven
or New York or both....
...I digress.

I am 35 and I feel about 2.
sometimes the inside of me
is not so pretty...
...I digress.

She needs me,
cross out the S
whenever your in doubt
cross out the S...
....I digress.

He needs me,
gone with the S.
She needs me,
is she both inside?
....I digress.

It's driving me crazy,
the passion I possess.
Gone with the wind can't save me.
...I fucking digress.

I love you.
I didn't cripple you did I?
...I digress.

In this forest,
I am the hungry lion.
you are the meat of my soul,
the bread of my chest...
...I digress.

I want to let you go,
but I can't.
Something in my soul
won't let me.
In my chest,
in my chest,
I shall not rest
until you eat of
the bread of my chest.
...I digress.

Sunday, July 27, 2008


Sitting around in my green day boxer briefs,
wishing I was married,
tied down at my port of call.
I know that in these underpants
was not what you wanted,
too bad I could not see
what you needed
was this huge cock
I have inside of me.

Ever since I was little,
I felt like a boy,
it made my father angry
but my mother it destroyed.
She made fun of me,
till I could not believe,
in the beautiful being
I had inside of me.

I know I am not alone,
many parents are homophobic,
truth be told,
but I was born this way
to learn some hard lessons
through a love I cannot avoid.

If you only knew
how long we have been together,
it is easy to understand,
why I need your touch on earth
more than just in heaven.

The End.

De-fucking-pression all around.

Just like my economy,
I am de-pressed.
The price of gas has made it impossible for me to travel places with my car. Which is fine with me because I would rather not pollute WA with my fumes. But all the traveling I have done in the past 2 months has depleted my savings and when all my good friends hang out 45 minutes from Seattle-it can get frustrating.

Everything has gone up in price. My bank account has caught up with inflation, I am feeling the pains of a country in the middle of an economic depression. We can thank war for that and we can thank Bush for it too.

My goal is to get out of Seattle and move to New York City. It seems like getting back to NYC has been my goal for decades. The one goal that alludes and escapes me. I know I will make it there someday. It was my dream to move to Seattle when I was a kid and I made that one come true with hard work and patience. But my depression has gotten me down and I don't want to leave the house. The last 6 months have been really hard for me. I have never been this depressed in my life. Maybe I have always been this down but all the drugs and cigarettes must have covered it up. Now I definitely know that drugs just prolong your suffering but there was a time when I had no choice, the pain was to great. At least now I have the strength to know what it is inside of me that hurts. Things go deep and your pain is not only from this lifetime but all the ones before. Boy does it hurt not being with you. It fucking kills.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Head in my Hands

Head in my Hands.
Losing my patience,
The nightmare of this life,
Slowly coming true.
I am in hell.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

To Whom it May concern-



Without you.


Without you.


Without you.

Social Security.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Without you.


Post....Traumatic......Stress. Think about those 3 words for a second. Post (meaning after).....Traumatic (what your actions did to me)...Stress (the explosion of a star). When I think about the deep friendship and love we had, damn you know, no one acts the way you do. Those deep resentments you hold, the deep blame you feel, the envy-all of this holds you back and makes you sick. There is a great book out there called You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay. This lady healed herself from cancer by changing her mental patterns and thoughts. I read this book many times and the one big thing I learned is that all negative thought patterns lead to physical illness. One of the causes of cancer is deep hidden resentments. Think about all those people in your life that caused unnecessary pain in your life. There were a lot and you deserved none of it. Each one of those people and circumstances need to be let go and destroyed for good or you will never find peace, you will never find sobriety. TRUE happiness is out there, just like the truth. You will never find it until you let go of those things that hold you back. Somethings take a long time, but every little bit of work you do helps a great deal, believe me I know.

There are somethings that still hold me back even though I have been working on them for many, many years. But those things are rare and they have to do with you. I don't understand you, I really don't. I thought I had problems communicating but damn some people are worse off than I am. The pain of the silence, the pain of your issues, the pain of your promises, the pain of your "real" last name being in the fucking garbage can, the pain of the talent you tossed away for the false belief that he completed you(????) when in actuality it was I that completed you. Obviously he completed you as much as heroin is good for you, which is not at all, or you would not have gotten divorced. Throwing away your best friend (the person you really loved), throwing away our future because of the false belief that he completed you is the cruelest joke of the 20th century. He gave you nothing! He was so jealous of your real talent that he had to dumb you down to make him feel better about himself. I love your mom so much for pushing you into divorcing him because he is/was the biggest fucking junkie loser I have ever met. He turned you into something fucking awful, something that you were trying not to become and that was a junkie and what you had to do in order to get your fix.

I am sorry my cock is not real, but you know what? My silicone cock fucking rules. It never gets soft, it is not going to get you pregnant and I can fuck for hours with it and I mean hours. When I think about why you put me in the garbage can it makes me want to slit my wrists. I am sorry I was not born and raised in New York City also. I am sorry I was not some sexually experienced nymph. Actually I had only a tiny bit of sexual experience and it was a biggest source of pain for me growing up.
Thanks so very much.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Monday = blah.

Went to a hardcore show yesterday at my scene's collective known as The Viaduct. These awesome kids got together and opened this amazing venue in the vein of ABC No Rio and Gilman St. in California. Basically it is an all ages venue with no alcohol (but a slew of dive bars nearby) and no asshole club owner telling us what we can and cannot do. It works because most of the kids that work there and run it are straight edge. We also police ourselves. Stopping people from putting the club in danger of being shut down. We pride ourselves on being positive but strict on dumb people doing dumb things. I love this place and if it was in Seattle I would volunteer there all the time. It is in Tacoma WA which is about a 45 minute drive from Seattle (without traffic).

My friends from CT, a band named Hostage Calm played on Sunday. I was excited to see them again. 3 times this year is a treat. I saw them once in Jan in Queens when I was back east for the holidays, once at Rain Fest and then yesterday. Seeing them and being near them makes me closer to home and closer to the one I love. I wish I could of jumped in their van and stowed away for the east coast. They were on tour with a band from Mass called The Effort. The Effort are one of the best newer hardcore straightedge bands out there today. With songs about wanting to change yourself for the betterment of humanity, hardcore today is much different than the hardcore of the past. I cannot exactly put it into words but today's hardcore is sung by an even more aware and positive youth. I love it. One of the reasons I do not exactly fit into the norms of punk rock society is because my main goal in life is not drinking and that is ok. I know my punk brothers and sisters will catch up and ride the posi straight edge hardcore wave. You don't have to be edge to be positive. Soul control, who also played yesterday, from RI are another spiritual hardcore band. I love it. Bands are really stepping up the spiritual content and this makes me happy. Vanguard, one of my favorite local bands, headlined and did not disappoint. This band rocks my world so hard. I am so glad that I stumbled into this hardcore scene.

I went to three shows in a row and now on Monday I am pretty spent. I would love to lay around on my couch all day thinking of my love and rocking out with my blankets, but I have stupid posters to pick up and put up. I still might just lay around though. Being your own boss rules but I am still the girl with her head in her hands wondering what went wrong. I really, really just want one thing--------------------------------and that is------------------------------
to be with--------------------------------------------------------------you.

Fuck---good night cruel world.
Tonight I hold you in my blanket.

the end.

Sunday, July 20, 2008


I am so tired of missing you,
every day,
every week,
every hour,
how did I get into this mess?

I am so tired of being alone,
every day,
every week,
every hour,
all this pain I try to suppress.

there is no one good enough
or talented enough,
or sober enough,
or cute enough,
to make me stop loving you.

If I was a guy,
we would all ready be married.
that rips me up inside
like all those broken mirrors and ripped up pictures
I have been thrown away.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

I just want to say.......

I just want to say
I fucking love you,
please have a nice day.
here's to the rest of my life.

Hardcore shows all weekend.
I shall be thinking of you,
when I am driving to Tacoma.
There is so much yet to do.

I have pretty patience,
take your time my dear.
just know when your in pain,
love will wipe away that fear.

I am going crazy,
I think I might explode
I am sorry for my mistakes,
those things I can't dispose.

Second chances are what I need,
you see these things-
my words are the ones that bleed
from the arrow of your Sagittarius sting.

the end.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Feb 2008 Cafe Vita, Seattle Wa.

Day 1

Not in the Lower East Side, thinking about Nico, of course. Nothing changes. I just hope that in 20 years I am still not paying for those mistakes I made that early March evening when the moon was just right but I had too much wine and to this day I still wonder why wine made me act that way.

I still make mistakes.
I am such a sour puss.
When will my lonely days be over?
When will my sailor come home?
Does he even know how much I miss him.
I find a classic film to watch, it takes the blues away.
I wish she was here too. Her breasts dangling the way they do.
As a matter of fact I would love to grind her while he does me from behind, the three of us coming the way we do when we're watching porn and I am about to bust.

I am very much into a polygamous state of awareness, it makes me want to buy a better harness.
"The better to do you with" I said as I mounted her with my purple and blue silicone cock. Hanging around the sex shops, looking for that one mechanical orgasm to take me out of this lonely boredom I have contracted like an STD. This monster she made of me, this false sense of being. Leaving me with nothing but a useless lie.

So many couples walk by. I am alone because I am shy. Online disasters and a broken telephone ring. I was voted most out going in high school but I cannot get laid because I am shy and stuck in another lifetime, another era when she was a he and he married his sweetheart. Life was so much simpler back then.

Day 2

I got the vibrator blues. Sometimes those things were meant for two.

It is nice out again today, though a little colder than yesterday, the rain held off which let to some furious bike riding. I love the planet Earth, with all it's wars, pain, anger, hate and greed. But Love, art, film-others that share these passions-make my travels on this planet worth the pain and aggravation that being in the body brings.

I want to take my pants off and stroke my clit for you. I am in my dirty thirties so baby you know I want to fuck. This masquerade that we all play. A desperate struggle going on inside of us. Damn this lesbian sitting next to me is so ugly it is making me sick to have to look in her direction, helping me to lose my erection. She probably would not be so ugly on the outside if she was not so ugly on the inside. Accept yourself bitch before your looks turn me to stone. Your inside mirrors the look on your face, a reflection of truth on the outside for all those to see.

My bike is so awesome, it makes me horny so I go for a ride. Away from this ugly girl and her false sense of pride.

Ride punk rock, ride.


It was the safest spot I could think of, being homeless in New York City is not a safe thing, but sleeping on roof tops with a few other homeless punk rockers makes for good company under the stars.

I wanted to savior these moments but I knew the addiction that put me there was going to be the reason I had to leave. Hands down, the New York City skyline is the best ceiling I ever slept under. I am great full that heroin gave me the opportunity to experience the worldly feeling of sleeping on a rooftop in the heart of New York City.

It was a pretty awesome feeling and one of many good times that heroin would give me before I had to give her up. Now every moment without heroin is as good as that moment under the New York City skyline of stars.

Being clean from heroin for over 6 years feels really awesome. I suffered for many years and I can finally say that heroin and I have parted ways for good. I don't miss it, not one bit do I feel sorry for giving it up. Besides quitting cigarettes, it was the best thing I ever did for my body. Moving to Seattle saved me. Being out here not able to relapse, I had to work through many of the issues that led me to my addictions. It was painful work but the strategic move I made out west made the difference, so did my awesome counselor.

I still have work to do. But I imagine there will always be work to do. Life goes on and I am ready to move back east whenever the wind blows me in that direction. I could stay in Seattle, I like it here, but there seems to be no love here for me. I have been here for 4 years and I have not met anyone besides some insane herpes filled alcoholics and men that spend all of their time at bars drinking. That is no fun because I do not drink. I do not mind people drinking, as long as it is not their goal in life to get drunk. Smoking cigarettes does not bother me. I like the smell and the taste of it in someone's kiss and as long as I don't pick it up again, I am fine with my lovers smoking.

I pray to divine mother to take me back under her ceiling. I promise not to make the same silly, stupid mistakes. I promise to use water based lube and I promise to sexually express myself.

I pray to divine mother to take me back under her ceiling before mine falls in on me during the great seattle earthquake of the 21st century. (save my paintings...please)

thank you

It's ok and who cares.

No one ever calls me.
I am not sure why I have no good friends
that care enough to call or write a text
but it's ok. I am my karma.
I don't belong here anyway.
There's only one place that I truly belong
and that is home in her arms.
Home on the planet Earth is where ever
her arms rest themselves at night.
Until I make it there or to New York City,
where there are others waiting for me,
my soul will be on a restless journey to nowhere.

The bugs bite at any spare part
of your body
that is in the open.
My karma is all I have-
man, woman, deer or crow,
my love for you has been passed around
from one lifetime
to the next.

Have Heart and we will make it to the goal.
The life we want to live is possible
through all the pain, frustration and hope
there is always a pot of gold at the end
of the self-forgiveness rainbow.

Thursday, July 17, 2008


I know you feel like a widow
and at times I feel dead.
All those times i left you for
a uniform and a garden of stone.
War is Hell!
It rips apart our souls.
Be against all war.
This pain is from a past life,
can't you feel it?
Whether I am the lovelorn medieval messenger or
the civil war soldier,
I still remember flowers in your hair
and the knights I contest to defend your honor.
The senselessness of death in this ever painful journey
gives me the vision of a love
as strong as the spark that creates us.
These bodies do not last,
but my love for you does.
I just cannot help myself.

the end.

A Love....

A Love...

I want to take care of you
when you're sick.
Be there when your sad.
Have fun and share in all the joy you've had.

A Love stronger than the
stone that made up that grave,
the one with the pretty flowers
that you stood in front of,
all those many, many years ago.

A Love stronger than a diamond
from a past life lover
that you just cannot forget,
though in this lifetime
we find our selves full of regret.

A Love stronger than fear,
more potent than anger,
the love the world was created from,
this is what I Have found within myself.

A Love I give to you,
with all my heart,
before the world,
blows itself apart.


Going down on the sun.

The sun goes down on
another day,
another month,
another year,
another lifetime
filled with sunrises and sunsets.

In Seattle where the sun sets late in the summer,
we have more clouds than sun,
but I came to Seattle to let the rain wash away my pain.

The Sun still goes down behind those clouds,
whether we can see it or not.
There is something to be said in Love being in everything
just like the sun being out even though it is raining or cloudy or
I am upset about my regrets in New York City
under the moon where she called me her angel.

When the sun went down was when I made the most mistakes
with you but I was lost and young and scared of myself
thanks to my mom and all those mean things she said
as the sun went down on another day in small town hell.

The sun is always going down on me,
the sun is always going down on me,
Nico the sun is always going down on me.

the end.

A Classic.

When I need you
I just close my eyes and I am with you
And all that I so want to give you
Its only a heartbeat away

When I need love
I hold out my hands and I touch love
I never knew there was so much love
Keeping me warm night and day

Miles and miles of empty space in between us
The telephone cant take the place of your smile
But you know I wont be traveling forever
Its cold out, but hold out, and do I like I do
When I need you
I just close my eyes and I am with you
And all that I so wanna give you babe
Its only a heartbeat away

Its not easy when the road is your driver
Honey thats a heavy load that we bear
But you know I wont be traveling a lifetime
Its cold out but hold out and do like I do
Oh, I need you

When I need love
I hold out my hands and I touch love
I never knew there was so much love
Keeping me warm night and day

When I need you
I just close my eyes
And you're right here by my side
Keeping me warm night and day

I just hold out my hands
I just hold out my hand
And I am with you darling
Yes, I am with you darling
All I wanna give you
Its only a heartbeat away
Oh I need you darling

Sung by some white dude with an afro, Leo Sayer, and remade by a big voiced lady for soft rock stations. But for some reason I have this song in my head constantly....go figure. I was never a big fan of this song but now I am.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Let it be.

Let it Be.

Let the flags unfurl as we march toward victory.
Let me be who I am constantly.
Let me hear the sound of her calling my name.
Let me run from the demons that have told their lies to me.
Let me lie down in the field next to my love.
Let me never look back.
Let me never forget,
who I am,
where I am from
what I believe.
Let it be.
Just let it fucking be.

July 2008

Be Your Own Float or Tattoos make me feel better.

It started on Friday. Seattle Gay Pride weekend 2008. The beginning for me was work, putting up flyers for random rock shows and Bend It, Seattle's awesome DIY Pride alternative. As usual anger erupted inside of me at the 15 dollar cover charge the only lesbian and dyke bar in Seattle was taking from people to be able to hang out there. I wanted to stand outside the fence with a picket sign protesting the alcohol fueled destruction wrought by the beer companies and their-"we support pride" banners. But instead I downed 4 shots of espresso at Cafe Vita and started a discussion with 2 lesbians sitting at a table about how pissed off I am about alcohol fueled pride and the cost of admission to the only girl bar in town.
"Alcohol is never good for any community!" I yelled as I walked off with my usual have a nice day attitude, but really inside I wanted to cry or tear down the fences of the Wold Rose's beer "garden" of self destruction and drunk girls grabbing at my cock.

On Saturday I was suppose to get a tattoo of FDR (Franklin Delano Roosevelt) on my ass but when I made the appointment I did not realize that it was pride weekend and if I got a tattoo on my ass I could not ride my bike in the parade because of the healing process. But I decided to use the appointment time anyway to get a tattoo I had always wanted to get-the name of my one true love. I had done a series of things in an attempt to get over it, many of them painful regrets including ripped up pictures, rings thrown off of cliffs and a painting destroyed. Nothing helped. Images of my artistic partner on the phone telling me she loved me more than him. Leaving me barren and alone 120 miles east of where we use to live alone but together every second in our hearts, in our minds and sometimes in our bed.

Almost 3 years of silence after that last phone call I find her one day in New York City only to come to the awful realization that now she hated me and blamed me for all the pain created after I left her in New York City. Although she was clean and sober, I could tell that she still suffered from my many regrets and the unrequited love between us. Even her husband realized this and tried to tell her to be happy that I was back and that she needed me. But the blame, pain and anger was all too deep and too much to bear. Things fell apart really quickly. I could not deal with the pain of her hate and the lost love between us. The last thing she said to me was "I hope you OD" as I was ejected from her life. Cut to 12 years later, she is now divorced and I am still in love with her. She sent me an email 6 months ago telling me that she still has parental issues. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I guess it is hard to be Jewish and queer even at 39. Her mom does not want her to be a lesbian and really she isn't. It is only my birth in female body that enhances her queer side. She told me straight out 15 years ago that she wished I was a guy, even though she is bi-sexual, sex with a woman and being in love with a woman is two different things. If her mom supported and respected her sexuality, I imagine things would be different. The lack of acceptance her mom gives her sexuality is silently tearing her apart and actually it is killing me. She told me many times in 1993 that we were going to be together when we were older and that it was the waiting that sucked. I still hang onto these words because it has been 15 years, I still love her and I cannot find someone else to love. It feels like our karma to be together but the bridge across forever sometimes takes a long time to bring you together with your soul twin.

So it was pride weekend and finally I got her name tattooed on my arm. The pain of the needles felt awesome on my arm as the name of the love of my existence was engraved in black for everyone to see. I am happy because I finally have gay pride. I am not ashamed to love who I love anymore. She is on my mind everyday. We were going to be famous with our little public access show that put us in Sassy Magazine and was 1 rated for 6 months on MNN cable out of New York City. Since then I have not met anyone that I connect with on a creative level and it tears me apart everyday.

With her name proudly written across my arm for all time, on Sunday I decided to ride my bike and be my own float for the parade. With my blue strap on sticking out of my pants I rode proud to be a gender rebel, proud to be who I am-queer and in love with an awesome girl even if she is afraid to love me back, even if she hates me, I cannot help but love her unconditionally. I finally felt complete gay pride and self love. It was a long time coming.

I felt a few demons being destroyed as I weaved in and out of the other floats on my bike, throwing out TCM (Turner Classic Movies) stickers to the crowd. No longer am I afraid to let everyone know this mask of pain I have worn for so long. As life goes on, I will be my own float through this parade we call life on the planet Earth. Even if she is not by my side, I will forever wear this tattoo with pride.

The End.

Monday, July 14, 2008

My Head.

My Head.

My Head is a book full of knowledge,
all other points are mute.

My Head is a snake full of poison,
I strike you down with my tongue.

My Head is a cauldron of spells,
I magically make you appear.

My Head is a child full of nightmares,
you don't want to go there.

My Head is full of History,
my stock makes the market crash.

My head has a mind
and my words are my weapons.

My Head is a revolution filled with
martyrs whose day has finally come.

My Head is a TV channel full of
memories in black and white.

My Head is a heart filled with reincarnation,
with these rings I have wed.

My Head is a book full of knowledge,
all other points are mute.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

I write therefore I am.

There were times in New York City when I knew I was destined to be a writer. But those times were painful comedy. Funny to those reading about it, but when it is happening to me it hurts like hell.

Even as I was stumbling along making mistakes that would end up causing mountains of pain, I knew it was all going to be written about. To be able to understand it's place in history was an undeniable fact.

There were times when I would purposely make decisions that would enhance my life in order to fit it all into literary history. Making my life a better read by the outrageous choices I was making on a daily basis. All in the name of poetry and the unrequited mystery of love.

Intimacy is not always about sex. Writing is not always about poetry. Sometimes writing is the only way to know you are really alive. As if we are all ghost writing our spirit for a greater understanding of humanity and our lives on planet Earth.

Everyday with the one you love is intimate. It is only love that makes us breath and makes us work. Loves makes us believe in things bigger than the limitations we face in our bodies. I write for these reasons. I write to take away the pain. Nothing is as good as when we are writing together- the history of our lives, the history of our love.

Someday they will know just how I feel. This is why I am a writer. The greatest intimate moment I ever had that makes me the writer I am is the day I realized what I loved in you is what I have in myself.

the end (for now).

Inner Vision

Inner Vision

My fields of Victory
Shine so bright.
Amazing Grace
you came to me.
These fields of war
so dark,
so loud.
We take comfort in the dead,
all around us.
Amazing grace
all around.
Divine Mother-
in this lifetime
I can see


Saturday, July 12, 2008

Down on my Knees

Down On My Knees

If addiction was offically labeled a disease,
I would go down on my knees.

If all the wars could end,
I would go down on my knees.

If the Kennedy brothers were still alive,
I would go down on my knees.

If all the dead soldiers could come back from World War Two,
I would go down on my knees.

If all the pain and suffering of this world could be healed,
I would go down on my knees.

If I could go back in time and fix my mistakes with you,
I would go down on my knees.

But until those days come to pass,
I will die on my feet,
so you can watch me rise,
with all the things I carry-
the painful memories of you.

Identifying Marks

Another Bent writing assignment.


Identifying Marks

9 in all.
Letters T C M, lower left arm inside.
Skull and Crossbones with Droogie hat, lower left arm inside.
Lion as seen in Scottish Flag, lower right arm.
Name "Nico" above lion, lower right arm.
Punk rocker in Flames throwing Molotov Cocktail, lower right arm inside.
Name "Kim punk rock", upper right arm.
Symbol from the comic book character "Spawn", Upper Left arm.
Stick Figure with arm raised, Upper Left arm.
Giant X as seen in the TV show The X Files, Lower Back.

Shaved Head
Blue Eyes
Nose Ring
"Barbell" style earrings.

small mole on upper right torso between the right breast and arm pit.

Last seen walking up Pike St. toward Madison Market in Capitol Hill wearing camouflaged pants and black hooded sweatshirt with white writing.
Subject was also carrying a "messenger" style bag with an image of Brandon Lee from the movie The Crow.

If seen please call:



That last line gets em every time--big laughs.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Mischa's Scar

Ok enough about my depressingly awesome punkrock life. Here is a short piece I wrote. I am taking a writing class called Bent. It is basically a class for people that consider themselves gay,bi-sexual,trans, etc. Basically if you are queer in anyway you can take this class. I love it and it is saving me from writers block. I am going to post almost all of the stuff I write for this class because frankly I am proud of what I have written so far. I call this one Mischa's Scar and it is about my ex-girlfriend who I met online in the X-Files chat room during the spring semester of 1999. She is from Vienna Austria and moved here to be with me in the spring of 2000. We had a long distance relationship online and through the phone for almost 6 months before we even met in person. She came to visit me in the fall of 99 with her mom. At that time I was really in the middle of my heroin addiction. She knew about it and wanted to help me. At the time she was one of those co-dependents with a savior complex so when I finally got clean she left me for some chick with a coke problem. Actually they are still together, as far as I know they moved back to Vienna Austria.

We ended up being together for 3 years. She helped me get clean and move to New Haven but when she walked out I suffered a 3 month relapse because the whole time I was clean I was not getting counseling and that ended up to be my undoing. But after that I started an intensive counseling program and I have been clean from heroin ever since. I would have almost 8 years if it was not for those 3 months, so technically I have been clean since august 2002 but I had a year and a half clean time before that.

Anyway without further adieu I present to you Misha's Scar.


She pressed the cigarette into her flesh. It sizzled and burned with the satisfaction of pain. Once the burn was in place she moved the cigarette to the next empty space on her arm, creating a checker board of cigarette burns on the young skin of her youth.She did this to feel the pain. 9 burns in a pattern. It made me sick to look at and I scolded her for it.

"Why did you do that?" I asked her. She just shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Right away I knew it was not my fault. I had not done or said anything to cause this insane moment of self mutilation. I decided right there and then that I was not going to pay for her choice, but the scar that was left disgusted me. Now I would have to live the next few months, the next few years with that scar. Reminding me of my heroin addiction and the pain it caused without even meaning to.

We had only just begun our journey but I knew she had to be handled with kid gloves. Her fragile state shocked me. She was the one who was suppose to be strong. I was the heroin addict mess that needed to be nurtured and cared for. I knew right then that my 28 year old issues were too much for her 19 year old head and I wished we had not started this relationship.

Even though she was going to save my life, I felt like I was going to ruin hers. Now she was going to have a souvenir her whole life because of a bad decision, a painful moment and a relationship that was meant to go bad from the beginning. These fragile hearts that we have within our chests break without much help from the world around us. Mischa's scar will always remind me of how fragile we can be.

The End


Thursday, July 10, 2008


It is unlike me to be depressed all the time. I do not have depression. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is very different then depression or any of the rest of the mental illness disorders. But this year I have been pretty damn sad for the most part. This is suppose to be my year. The Chinese lunar year of the Rat. I am a Rat. Even though things seem to be moving along ok with my film and TV career, there is always more that I can do, but it gets harder and harder to do alone without any support from anywhere. My parents they're supportive but they are also 3000 miles away and only became supportive after the TCM piece about me was filmed. Most of my life I suffered without the emotional support of my parents, which I know I am not alone with.

I need you. I need you so much that I toss, turn and sleep all day. My emotional pain makes me feel as if I am being bombed from above. My soul constantly crouching in the corner with my head covered by an old army helmet. All in all I am fucking depressed. I have been single for 6 years and within that time I have not met one person that I wanted to even date. Being in seattle where there are hella queer girls you would think that it would be easy to meet someone, even if it was a guy since it seems straight girls are rare where I live, but I have not met anyone. The few people I have met since I moved to seattle that I had a connection with were either dirty as fuck with herpes or other random STD's, or a total insane alcoholic or drug addict, or they were just totally insane or they have a girlfriend all ready. I am not exaggerating either. This is the truth. I actually saw the girl with the STD's today and whenever I see her I run the other fucking way. An STD is not what I need or desire to get. It is too bad this girl did not take care of herself, but unfortunately she is disgusting and I am so glad that we did not sleep together because it almost happened 3 times but something always stopped me,thankfully. She never even told me until way later that she was dirty down under.

I am so tired of being alone. Out of the past 15 years only 3 years were spent in some kind of relationship but only because I have been in love with the same person for shall I say it, 1000's and 1000's of years factoring in all those past lives.
The bottom line is I am so fucking depressed because I need to not be alone anymore, I need my karma, I need you and it is not just going to go away. My empty, lonely life is coming to a point were things have to change or divine mother is going to take me out of the game somehow because I cannot go on the way I am anymore. Alone time is alone time but this is ridiculous.

In Spirit Memoriam.

Have you ever had someone in your life that you went so deep with that you could communicate in spirit, without a phone, or body or email? Well I do and to be honest, it is driving me nuts. Telling me you love me in spirit is a really nice thing to hear, but when it comes down to not being able to hear it for real in body or on the phone or in an email, that shit can become painful and one can start to question their sanity. I can understand if the person who is doing the spiritual communicating is dead but when you have a body here on the planet, there is no time like the present to take control of your life and communicate using the vehicle you are in, the one known as your body. If you have something to say----say it, as long as it is honest and true to what your heart feels. Anything other than that is a lie.

I am not complaining mind you. I would rather hear the words I love you in spirit then not at all but life is short and life is precious, just ask those that have lost ones that they love to death. If I could really write how I am feeling right now there is probably only one person out there that would know what I am talking about. Anyway I could die today. I could get hit by a bus or car while I am putting up posters in Capitol Hill, there have been many near misses that I am not proud of. I definitely need to pay attention more when I am out there postering. All I am saying is that I deserve more before I leave this life. I work my fucking ass off. Even with my post traumatic stress I am able to do what needs to be done so that I can eat and buy a hardcore record but living without love from another person in my life sucks especially when you hear in spirit all the time that your loved. I hate my fucking life.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

The Gits, the year 1993 and my own private brokeback mountain.

The Gits were a female fronted band from Seattle in the early 90's. In 1993 I was living in New York City and working at the Continental on St. Marks and 3rd in the east village. One night while hanging out video taping my friends band on my night off a man approached me and asked me if I taped bands a lot and if I knew a lot about female fronted bands in New York City. It happened that I did tape bands all the time and I did know a lot about female fronted bands at that time in New York. The year was 1993.

The guy introduced himself as a music supervisor from Hollywood who was in town doing research on female fronted bands for a major motion picture and he needed an assistant while he was in town to run the camera and make the bands feel more comfortable. He figured if he had a female punkrocker riot grrl on his team, the
girls would open up. He wanted me to be there for a bunch of different interviews but I only did two of them . 1993 was the technological dark ages compared to now. If I had a cell phone back then I might not of missed one of the interviews we were suppose to do with this band called Magnapop, but such is life. The one important interview of this experience was with the band 7 year Bitch. You see 7 Year Bitch was suppose to be there with The Gits, but because the lead singer was murdered 3 weeks earlier, The Gits were no longer a part of the interview and 7 Year Bitch were here by themselves. Right away their manager told us that the girls were very, very upset over Mia's death but were still up to do the interview. So we made our way to an empty hotel room were the interview took place. As soon as the band met me I felt as if I had known them for years. Some kind of powerfully deep energy entered me that day. The interview was basically them opening their heart about Mia and how Mia was the one that got them to be a band in the first place. It was a deep interview. The whole time I felt as if a part of Mia's spirit entered me and when I look back on how I looked back then, I was a miniature version of Mia Zapata when she had her dreadlocks. I became friends with the members of 7 Year bitch and later that night I met them at the Knitting Factory and we shared some beers while Val Agnew, the drummer from 7 Year cried on my shoulder over the loss of Mia Zapata.

I saw the girls in 7 Year a few times after that, once in the fall of 93 when they played a NYC show which I got on tape and to this day I am working on getting it transfered to DVD. Anyway I had my own drama going on that year and it was not until 94 when The Gits entered my life again in the form of their posthumous Enter the Conquering Chicken LP. From that time on Mia was an angel to me. Since I was suppose to meet her until this disgusting inhuman brute took her away from this life, she came to me anyway in the form of a guiding angel.... but more as a friend. Through her music, my dreams and my super natural life, I did meet Mia. I know that if we did meet that day when we were suppose to, I might have fallen hard for this soulful punkrock angel that might of cradled me in her arms with the light of her friendship and love. Somehow we go deep. Her spirit spent a good deal of time with me, when there were others that needed her more I imagine. But I know for a fact that her spirit guided me and gave me strength through many hard times during the 90's and through much of my heroin addiction during the last few years of the 20th century.

Anyway now there is a movie about Mia and The Gits. I saw it for the first time in 2005 at the Seattle International Film Festival (SIFF) and it was then that i met the band, finally, and caught up with my old friends from 7 Year Bitch. It meant a lot to me that the remaining members of the band remembered the interview they were suppose to have. It was an amazing 2 days and I will never, ever forget those 2 after parties.

Now finally in 2008 the movie is being offically released on DVD and in theaters. Tonight was the official Seattle premiere with one of the film makers speaking and one more after party at The Comet Tavern here in Capitol Hill, which was the last place Mia was seen 15 years ago today, July 7th. I went and was a guest of the Producer which meant a lot to me. The after party was nice, but not near as fun as the ones in 2005. Those parties need a blog for themselves alone!

The Gits will always mean a lot to me. I will always love Mia Zapata and the friendship that was taken from me before it even started. I look forward to my friendship with Steve the drummer. I am hoping to do something creative with him sometime in the future. We both have a lot to work out creatively from the year 1993. I know for a fact that I never got over events in my own life from that year, in a way I understand how they feel, I had something taken from me too. But that is another story.

For more info goto:

to listen to some songs now goto:

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Everyday is like Sunday

Today is Sunday. Last night I drove to Olympia to go see Have Heart and Verse for their second Washington state date. I took pictures this time and I am going to post them up on here later tonight. Many of them came out blurry. I desperately need a better camera for live action shots. The 6 mega pixel Kodak camera I got was a b-day gift from my mom and dad a few years ago. I like it but not for taking live action band shots, but it is better than nothing and I have taken some amazing pictures with this camera.

A friend of mine started a clothing line called Actual Pain. I went to the line unveiling today at this awesome store called Winner's Circle. In exchange for putting up some posters for this shop, I was given a 3 of a kind Actual Pain hoodie that was priced at 100 dollars. I am stoked about it mostly because it came with a set of 5 pins that are only found on the hoodies. The back of it has a giant spider wrapping it's legs around a cross with the word "CHINGON" written above it. Chingon means bad mother fucker in Spanish.

All in all, today was a good day.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Getting off my chest the things we carry

This post is meant to be an explanation of some of my previous blogs. Although Have Heart came up with the album title "the things we carry", I have always had the wisdom to see the things that I have carried in this life and the ones before it. There are some things that I have gotten off my chest through emails or blogs that have made the things I carry a little bit lighter. I would rather get things off my chest and let them go for good in the form of a public blog or private email then take them out on someone I love in the future. But there are a few things that even though I talk about them, will not just go away. Sometimes you need other people to fix the things that happened or the things they did if even if it is in the form of an apology or in the form of understanding or even in the form of a tearful hug, things from the past can be washed away with three simple words- I Love You.

My previous blog is an example of me getting things off my chest. I did not want to carry around those thoughts on the marriage of my sweet love anymore. I definitely feel better about it, but the pain of the loss of the person that was more than my best friend, more than my creative partner and more than the person I was in love with still hurts everyday. It has been 15 years and I still cannot let go of a love that is never ending, a love that was not able to spread its wings and fly, a love that was suppressed because of the homophobic nature of our parents. This is the reason for me getting her name tattooed on my arm. When it was being done it felt so good. I had always wanted to do it and now it is finally done. I am constantly getting compliments on it even though it is just a name but the letters are special and it really, really looks fucking cool. It also healed up good.

This band Ruiner has a shirt that says-Bottom Line Ruiner Fuck you. Well to end this blog I am going to steal that line but tweak it.

Bottom Line
Loves you.

thanks for reading.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Mulder and Scully and/or The Things We Carry

I fucking love the X-Files. That TV show was my friend through thick and thin. I can definitely relate to that show more than most people will ever even relate to their kids. Some of the spiritual, metaphysical and unexplained things that happened in that TV show have happened to me and I must thank Chris Carter and all involved in that show because if it was not for some of those episodes I might have ended up in a loony bin for a long time. Hell if it was happening to Mulder and Scully then I knew everything was going to be ok and that I was not crazy.

Now that another movie is coming out I am definitely beyond stoked. I will actually hit up the premiere in Seattle when it happens and I never, never, never goto the movie theater. I cannot stand 95 percent of new films made today. I would rather watch Casablanca about a million times before I see the latest George Clooney bomb.

Anyway this blog is not really about the X-Files, even though I am watching my favorite season on DVD as I write this (6) and Gillian Anderson and I have the same birthday (August 9th) which I always thought was pretty damn deep. I also never ever saw the last ever episode that ended season 9. I just obviously did not want it to end and could not even watch that last episode, but before the movie comes out I will definitely buy season 9 and watch the last ever televised new X-Files episode that played on Fox TV.

But like I said before this blog was not suppose to be about the X-Files. This blog was about getting something off my chest. Since it has been published I realized that I did not want to insult the person I was talking about. So since it has probably been read by the person I wanted to read it, I am taking the last half of this blog down. Lets leave it to Mulder and Scully to investigate the mess we made out of our lives.

Blessed be your soul on the planet.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

The Taste of the Floor

Pat Flynn gets all the credit for this one.
It is funny how sometimes someone will write a song that is about a moment in your life or a feeling or a pain or just regularly how you feel. There have been some amazing bands this century that have written songs that have basically been a reflection of my heart and soul. It leads me to believe that the oneness that I have been learning about and trying to live is so real that it is beyond our understanding.

Anyway this song called Taste of the Floor is on Have Heart's new record called Songs to Scream at the Sun. The whole album is just chock full of songs that I can relate to, but this one in particular makes me scream it at the sun.

These lyrics remind me of someone I love very much that I just cannot forget. Pat might as well of been an angel on my shoulder for him to write this song. It really means a lot to me and when Have Heart just played it he dedicated it to Punk Rock Kim and everyone else that feels the loss of someone they love deeply. That shit meant a lot to me!

The Taste of The Floor
by Have Heart
words by Patrick Flynn

The Taste of the Floor reminds me of the skin
that leaves me in oceans of my soul
without a shore

So alone
So we'll Hold
those barren bodies
bereft of any soul
to get back what
the "middle of the nights" stole:
the forgotten feeling of feeling whole

but the loneliness
of our togetherness
creates an empty nest
for the emptiness
freezing in this chest.

so can you make me feel good?
Make me feel complete?
help me return to a dream of a love
worth more than
dirt and meat.

If you want to hear this song buy the new CD from Have Heart at or hit up I tunes on July 8th to buy this song.


Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Music is Everything

Music is everything and has constantly saved my life time and time again. Especially since 2000 and on music has played a main part in my existence. Here are a list of hardcore, punk or whatever bands that have saved my life these last few years especially. I highly recommend that you check each and everyone of these bands on myspace.

Go it Alone
Sinking Ships
Have Heart
At Half Mast
Hostage Calm/At All Costs
Blue Monday
Miles Away
Get the Most
Soul Control
The Effort
The First Step
The Answer
Stop At Nothing
Never Looking Back
The Gits
The Pist
The Rakes Progress
D Generation
The Carrier
I Object
Tear it Up
Think I care
I Rise
3 Doors Down
Face to Face
Live (as always)
Tori Amos for keeping me in touch with my feminine side.
The Midnight Creeps
the Unseen
Reaching Forward
and the list goes on and on and on.

The only time I am not thinking about my sadness is when I am at hardcore show. For some reason when I am there it is like all the pain, sadness, regret and lost love that has been plaguing me for 15 years fades away. But usually after a show I cannot sleep and home becomes a den of remembrance and longing for that feeling I have missed for so long-the same pain that the show numbed becomes amplified in the after show crash. That feeling of home I long for and I am not talking about the place I was born or grew up in.

Music is the drug that makes me forget my pain for just a second, while I am screaming the lyrics to the sun and anyone else who will listen because I know that when the song ends the pain still remains.

Music really is fucking everything.


Gay Pride Seattle 2008

I was my own float for the pride parade this year in seattle. I rode my bike up and down in between the floats throwing out TCM stickers with my blue cock from one of my strap ons sticking out from the zipper of my punker shorts.

Even though I am not very good at being queer, it was a good day and I am learning to be true to the gender rebel that I am.

Here's to the struggle, here's to the end.

Images of You

Images of You
Current mood: sad
Category: Life

I cannot get you out of my heart, mind and spirit. All I have left are these images that are not suppose to be painful. Nobody knows my sorrow, nobody knows my pain. At the end of the day, I still have the clown's sad face painted on and I am here to say it is not a mask. I feel sad all the time about us. I have been sad since 1994 and I have searched everywhere for the key to unlock me from this painful prison. I have looked within and I have looked without--nothing but pain in sight. When I go within I see our past lives flooding my mind like a killer tsunami, when I look without I just see all the love that is not for me.
I am in a holding pattern over the airport of life. No one understands how everything has been ripped apart. I wish I could go back in time with a handful of tape and glue, to put together again the life that we wanted.
I sit here alone, haunted by these images of you from this life and the 16,000 lifetimes we lived before. Sometimes I wish there was a war that would wipe me out like all the times before, this time I need it.

Fuck these images in my mind.
Tearing me apart.
Leaving pieces of us everywhere I go,
when you need me, just follow the trail of blood and pain and those images of you all ripped up in my mind.