Hmmmm

A friend is here to visit. By here I mean in town. A bit of a surprise. I worked for his Aunt out in Boston when I was a bit younger, a bit easier on the eyes. He specifically asked me not to tell certain friends I was visiting because he didn't want any feelings hurt, but he already hurt those friends, so I don't think I'd have mentioned it even if he hadn't asked. I have known him since I was young and pretty (or at least less battered) and since he was a child. He was 12 when we first met. He is someone I have risked everything for, including going into a party in Boston with a baseball bat to bring him out of. How he hated me, until he discovered who and what those people were capable of.

I smell pretty rancid right now. I haven't had the energy to shower in some time. I take baths when ever I can, but you just don't get as clean with a bath. Especially when you have to extend your legs out one end up to the bent knees with your buttocks against that wall of the tub in order to dunk your head beneath the surface and wash your hair. Call my filthy if you must. Water from a shower nozzle actually causes pain, and I lack the energy to stand that long while being inflicted by such pain. So instead it is baths. Baths and "Old Spice" hahaha.

I am getting ready to watch the movie that was originally titled "Pirate Radio" which I am greatly looking forward to. Drinking a Pepsi. My friend Paul wants me to switch to Jones' Apple something. He thinks sugar and caffeine are bad for me. I Love them. As I sit here I am listening to Josh Ritter's The Animal Years.

I am developing a group of middle aged pipe and cigar smoking men on Youtube who follow my videos avidly and comment often. I am not sure if this is more because I am 25, because I don't wear a shirt in a lot of them, or if its the music which ranges from Pearl Jam to The Kingston Trio? Perhaps its just because I am a fellow pipe smoker and age doesn't matter. Have I grown cynical?

I was watching The History Boys Yesterday and couldn't help but wonder if the reason I thought about NOT becoming a History teacher was my fear of becoming like Hector? Not fat, never fat, but old, alone, in a loveless marriage, fondling high school students riding on the back of my old English motorcycle - he rode a Velecette by the way, a LOVELY machine. I don't think I would EVER lay a finger on a student. But I wonder how happy I could be in a job where I was surrounded by temptation of good looking guys approaching adulthood? Still, I feel I would make an excellent teacher, and I am strong willed, and each year I am out of high school the students seem younger and younger, so I believe by the time I am healthy enough to get my degree I should be well out of danger.

Meds!

Well a few things I guess. Made a new video on youtube:



I made it for a friend of mine who I haven't seen in a couple months. I can see a couple old friends starting at the title, yes yes, I borrowed a nickname from the Captain. I promise you all it's well fitting to my friend.


So I saw the doctor's today. The one med goes from 1800mg a day to 2700mg. I can apparently go as high as 3500mg? Not sure. At any rate I should be sound alseep but I had a bit of a nightmare. I really need/want a hug, but I think if anyone tried to touch me right now I'd freak out. I haven't slept since, so I'm pretty hammered.

Supposed to go to a halloween party tonight. I'm going to go as a homeless man, shouldn't be too hard to rig up the costume, I look next to homeless all the time anyways.

Patched a couple more holes in the bastement ceilings, from both the ductwork we removed and from the holes to re-install the steam pipes. God I miss my father.

Mom's birthday is Sunday. I wrote her a letter in the card. Dinner at my brother's Sunday night. Saturday is Halloween, John is going to come over and we are going to work on the Harley.

I think we can have the candy in a bowl in the Garage where we're working, that way the kids can just get the candy and not bug mom. Besides, the doorbell is on the list of things that Dad and I never fixed. Sure the dog will go NUTS but hey...

Anyways, I'm done. I have Smashing Pumpkins going.

Despite all my rage
I'm still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage
I'm still just a rat in a cage
Someone will say what is lost
Will never be saved
Despite all my rage
I'm still just a rat in a CAGE!!!!!!!!!

Tell Me I'm the Only one
Tell me there's no other one
Jesus was an only son
Tell me I'm the chosen one
Jesus was an only son
For You!!!!!!

Despite all my rage
I'm still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage
I'm still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage
I'm still just a rat in a cage
Someone will say what is lost
Will never be saved
Despite all my rage
I'm still just a rat in a CAGE!!!!!!!!!

The rules have changed today (Hey)
I have no place to stay (Hey)
I'm thinking about the subway (Hey)
My love has flown away (Hey)
My tears have come and gone (Hey)
Oh my Lord, I have to roam (Hey)
I have no home (Hey)
I have no home (Hey)


These are words that strike me pretty deep. I'm in an interesting mood, and its 2:30 in the morning, and I'm just so out of it. Weird because the meds are the same and yet they are hitting me really hard.

I found some old pictures of me in a friends Facebook album. Here they are. This isn't vanity, its just amazement at the past.


Here is one with an incredible mess of hair. I don't know if it was before or after Dad's death, probably just before. I believe Brent and I had spent the night working on my Taurus which I sold to my best friend Kyle to drive down to Florida where he would be working for NASA! This would be early June? I had gotten brake cleaner in my eye and was trying to calm the pain it was causing.

A bare white chest with oil soaked arms and a greasy face. You can see what part of me was deep inside the car, and what was covered, in many ways this is a creepy picture the look on face!



Here is one when dad was still alive. I had ridden the Moto Guzzi over to a 3 decker on Chandler Street owned by Brent's mom. That balcony on the second floor is/was one of Brent and My favorite places to just hang out, talk, and watch people walk through their lives.

Actually this is after Dad died. Those were his pants. He bought me that leather jacket so I would be safe. Its one of my prized possessions. The boots... well dad always wore them when he rode bikes. I grew to love them and wear my pair everywhere. Rode cross country in those boots!




I am not one to worry about my hair, but it looks HORRIBLE in this one. That was one of my father's favorite pipes, and the one I at first tried to smoke. That was the beginning of pipes being in all my pictures.




Here's a good shot of the Triton I was building in the basement. How different the room is now. What a MESS! I learned a LOT at MMI and would have rebuilt that bike had I decided to stay with the idea.




Finally two pictures of the Triton when it was just about done, that was a good night, friends hanging out with me in the basement.

I love this one because you can see pictures of Dad in the back as a kid and as a "tough guy"

^ Reminds me of my time in Phoenix. 'Cept if it was the same my friend Zach would be singing it, it'd be Saturday night and there would be half a dozen guys in his apartment sitting around listening to some live music. Those were good times. Zero posted on my myspace today in response to a status I'd posted about the Suzuki missing on 2&3 cylinders. I hadn't thought to check the timing. I'll look into that in the next day or so.

Still working to get the right grease for slicking my hair back. I am contemplating just going back to honest to god gearbox grease which is what I used out in Phoenix. Hahaha, it's proper for what I am going for, and REALLY holds the hair back in that old school style.

I'm going for straight back, without any design to it.
This is how it's going so far, but I need something a bit stronger


It's a far cry from how I looked when I first got home:


I can just picture the people saying "Why the hell!"

or my friend Matt who prefers this:


Which is how I wore it for years.

But for now I am going for that totally shaggy hammered look, which explains the beard and the hair. I will cut neither until at LEAST July. I REALLY want to see how long it will get. Besides, it's not like I'm looking for dates, so the fact that I look like hell and death doesn't really phase me right now =p

Once I go back to looking for dates, and when you consider I haven't in a decade, then I'll clean myself up, shave, get my hair cut back to how it was in that last picture, and whiten my teeth. But by then the motorcycle you saw in the last picture, which looked like this:


Will look like this:


And by that point I will be hopefully looking for a job as a teacher, and will have to trim myself up.

If things had gone according to plan I'd be a History Teacher right now. But when does life EVER go according to plan?

I think back to a post I made today, in response to a thread titled "Sigh" on GTF, which was in response to Ald's saying I had to explain what happened if I wanted sympathy for a friend of mine who OD'd on Heroin. This was my reply:

"I don't see why I need to explain it. When I was in my early teens I hung out with 14 other boys. Now 11 of those boys are dead. 9 of them in the last 3 years.

Adam & Mike were killed
Sam, Frankie, Kevin, and Patrick committed Suicide.
Tim, Mark, Nick, Shawn, and Tom overdosed.

I could explain it again. I have many times in the past. I think I've even stated it publicly on the board. But what it really comes down to is that now 11 of my friends from that time in my life are dead. It's staggering. No you don't know what happened.

We come on this board to talk, to vent, to ramble, to make friends, to be random.

I remember talking to Shawn (former member here) on AIM the night that Sam killed himself. That was the night of Feb 3 2006. I was THERE. I can't say he died in my arms because I dropped him when he began to convulse. Sam was the one of the group who seemed to be making it, a surviver. Captain of his Lacrosse team, head of his class, had a girlfriend.. he was the ONE of us who was Really going to be OK. Then he killed himself.

Then Nick died. 5 of us went to his funeral. We all got coffee after. Kevin told us he'd come up in his last test as HIV+. He shot himself about 2 months later. The other 3 are all dead too.

It's like getting punched in the chest every time someone from that group dies. I keep telling myself that the shit I went through when I'm younger, it can be beat. I can get over it. Eventually I'll be ok again. The nightmares will stop. The fear of being touched will fade away. Maybe someday I'll be comfortable getting a boyfriend again. It won't get me. These doubts are just doubts, the fears are all in the past. They can't hurt me anymore. Its all unfounded.

And then I look... 11 of us are dead. 11 out of 15 of us are dead. Maybe you can't escape it? I didn't expect to live to be 15, surely not 18, no way I'd make it to 21. How I've managed to make it to 25 is still a mystery. It's like fighting a war of attrition. Eventually it wears you down until you either seek comfort in drugs, or you put a bullet in your head."


Sounds a little over dramatic when I read it again, but you know what, thats it. Thats how it's played out. I'm always dulling things down in real life.
How are you doing? Fine.
How's the pain? OK.
Are you all right? Of Course.
Do you need help? No.

Or at least I used to. Now if someone asks how I'm doing I'll try to tell them. I tried to be the strong type. I tried to keep it all inside and it almost killed me. I tried to not trust people and it almost killed me. I tried to overcome the apparent limits of my health and I failed again. Again and again and fucking again. Is it really failure if it's not your fault? It sure as fuck feels like it.

People see what they want to see.

When Mikey found out I'm bisexual - when I TOLD him he wouldn't speak to me for 3 weeks because he saw had always seen gays as fairies. So naturally I MUST have been lying about who I really was all this time. I swear half of my friends expected me to start acting like a classic fag.

When guys I went to high school with see that I am not working, that I have not finished college what do they see? Well now they see a sick guy, because I have started walking with a cane and I LOOK frail, or at least I did when I got home.

When you tell people that you were abused they look at you like you have cancer.


I remember on GTF a kid made a thread about what we do to help the gay community. I said I didn't do much right now, I have to deal with my health, and when I do have time to be an advocate for something I was going to stand up and fight against child porn. He accused me of being a pedo and said why would I fight something like that when I so obviously supported it, being a non teen on a teen forum. God that made me so mad. At least I had friends there who stood up for me instantly. For one I was a teen when I found the place. For two if he KNEW my history he'd know better. For three THINK about that statement. WHY would someone want to fight that, well everyone Should. But why would someone make a point of saying such a thing in a thread of that nature.

I don't know. I should go to sleep. I have been awake for ever.

Oh, here is the camera youtube thing I posted/promised:

Last Night

Last night was a great success. I got to John's house around 6:20PM to find it was at the time just John and Nancy. It was quite pleasant. Later on Tim showed up with his father, then his father left, and man he got tall! Seems like more than a year since I last saw him, he's turning into a fine looking young man. A little while later JJ showed up with his mother. It was good to see her again, it was good to see Dan again too.

The first movie we saw was "Black Cat" a 1934 horror movie. Not bad, not great. Laughable in a lot of places, and a movie you could walk out and miss large parts of and come back and pick up right where you left off.

I went into the living room about a third of the way through for a smoke, by myself - but the room is very well laid out now with the fireplace and dark blue striped(white) wall paper. Antique and old style furnishings, white base boards and trim work. The old full mirror on one wall. It's quite nice. I sat in a high backed chair by the window and smoked my pipe feeling the lord over all creation. So tasteful. So elegant. So Dapper. A proper gentleman. I forgot I was wearing battered jeans and workshirt, and enjoyed my moleskin vest and it was just... wonderful.

I returned again at the end of the movie for another with the same feelings of ease. I was joined briefly the second time by Tim and JJ but they left before I lit the pipe, though there was some laughter, we were beginning to warm back up to each other - I hadn't seen either of them since Thanksgiving 08.

The second movie was "American Werewolf in London" 1981 - directed by John Landis - I have always been a fan of his movies, "The Blues Brothers" gets top billing in my book. It was a splendid film and we watched it almost silently, every so often John would warn of a scary scene and you'd watch Tim get prepared for it on the couch knees up to his chin hands near his eyes.

Following the movie Nancy left, and I was joined by Tim and JJ in the livingroom for my smoke, which was nice.

The next film was "Them!" 1954, a movie about killer giant ants that came about as a result to nuclear testing in the deserts. Always a good film to watch. Though I'm sure terrifying in its day, it is just to be appreciated now for what it once was. JJ and John were both sound asleep and Tim and I were knocking back cans of Pepsi like it was our job. Both of us - tall thin guys - were beginning to shake as a result, him more so because I have about 30 pounds on him.

Pain was beginning to creep up my legs and crush my hands and I was contemplating going home, but both Tim and JJ had been quite insistent that I stay the whole night, John had made up a spare bedroom for me, and I was far from tired - so I decided for better or for worse I would persist.

Them! ended and Tim and I moved to the living room to have a smoke, rather I smoke - he keep company. I quite like the boy, he's 13 now and choosing where to go to high school. He wants to go to the school I went to, all my friends, his brother, his father and uncles, hell John teaches there - its how I first met him, indirectly. His parents want him to take a test for a more deluxe high school in the city which is also a boarding school. Tim would rather be among peers at ours than "the poor kid" at the other. I had forgot how much apprehension there is in going to high school - especially one where your classmates will not follow. So we had a good talk about that, and when I finished my pipe we went back to the den to choose another movie.

Now may I say that I have never really been effected by horror movies. I rarely jump, scream, get un-nerved. (I did get spooked watching "The Ring" but that was because afterwards I had to drive along a resevoire through the woods, at night, to get home). We chose the original "Amityville Horror" 1979. Neither I nor Tim had ever seen it before. Man... BOTH of us spent the movie on the edges of our seats, mouths open, totally creeped out! We're "tough guys" so we'll never admit it in person, but my god...

The movie concluded and we descended back to the living room with JJ who was once again awake. Half way through my smoke the boys went back to the den to find a new movie. When I returned they were watching "Maverick" on TV which they'd never seen - the movie with Mel Gibson and James Garner, not the old TV series with James Garner =p They couldn't decide on a movie. JJ wanted "The Excersist" which Tim and he had never seen. Tim was standing his ground against it. I've seen it a million times and had no interest but would have watched it for Tim if he had wanted to.

I cast a vote for "Interview with a Vampire" which Tim didn't want to watch because he was getting tired finally at 4:30AM. He kept looking to me to make the call and I kept refusing to "It's your night boys, you decide", JJ wanted to watch it because he knew it would keep Tim awake and if Tim went to sleep I was going home. Not out of overt preference to Tim so much as John was out cold, Tim would be out cold, and I had no inclination to stay past that point, staying up with a boy I see twice a year and have little common ground with.

In the end, Tim decided to go to sleep, so I told them they'd have to lock me out, I got my stuff together and they followed me down the stairs. Showed them which switch to throw, and said goodnight! Walked cross to my '86 Olds climbed in, lit the pipe, turned the engine fan on - a toggle switch on the dash - and headed home pretending I was in a movie about my life and the sad music on the radio was the credits.

It really was a wonderful night. Woke up today to a voicemail from John telling me that "I was the hit of the night" and that he was glad I'd stayed so long. It was quite wonderful to hear.

Cameras.

My father. I guess this is going to be as much about him as cameras. Film is one of the things he left me loving. Aren't you amazed? Stupified? I'm not talking about motorcycles. I am talking about film. Film Cameras. They were something he loved, you can see a great many of them here - although I have given one or two away to friends, a Bolex Super 8mm movie camera and a 120mm knockoff of a Rollie.

The camera that I am using now, I am actually in the process of uploading a youtube video of my fiddling with it and loading it for the first time in 5 years... the Retina Automatic III. You see through most of high school and after I used a Retina IIC folding camera which you can see in the above picture (back row - dead center).

This Automatic seen here:

I can't wait to get out there and start taking pictures again. I haven't for a while. Its just not something I can do right now, and there is surely not enough light down here in the basement. There is much to be said for digital cameras - but they are not really cameras, just as cell phones are not really phones. A digital picture is a picture, but it is not a photograph - it lacks the art and style. It lacks the significance - and in my mind it does not capture the soul. There is an art - a loving art to real photography. I am not bashing on those who use digital cameras for fun for for a job, or for their art. I just personally don't believe in it. I am not a hypocrite, they are fast, light, and easy. I use one when I am moving about and I took the above to pictures with them.

Most of these pictures are digital, some of them are not. Some are digital pictures of photographs. An example of a photograph, my Great Great Grandfather, his last name was Blue, and he was a Sheriff out west.


^ Photographs last. That picture is about 120 years old and still looks much as it did when it was taken. THAT is the legacy of a photograph. Incidentally another thing I love - something I did not get from my father is pocket watches. Mom and Dad would give me one every year for Christmas. I love them deeply. This one was a gift of my Uncle John, it IS the watch carried by Blue. It is the watch that was in his pocket in that photograph. An Elgin, key wind, mechanical movement. It still runs, but the hands no longer move - I do not know why.




I MISS my father SO much. The idea that he is really gone is still heavy on my mind, just over 2 years later and I am still in shock. My father... Here is a picture I found of him when he was about 14. With it I have a picture of myself at 14. I have some of his features, though not all of them.


My Computer desktop background gives another view of my thoughts of dad, how much I miss him, always a tribute


I know that I'll need to let go - turn loose of it over time and move forward. But right now with my health, my body, the intense physical pain. I think of Dad always, I loved him so much, I cannot forget him.



I will leave you with something completely different. Richard Thompson's cover of Woodstock - as written by Joni Mitchell. This song as he sings it brings tears to my eyes, and if you watch the video - it brings tears to her eyes as well. This is a song I would like played at my funeral:





Go Now, in Peace & Love. Be Good. Be Free.

Boston Legal

Been watching episodes of "Boston Legal" which truly was one of the best shows on television. In this episode "Juiced" they do something they did a lot in the last season, they came close to breaking the wall between a scripted TV show and the viewers.

Carl Sack: You know, the only show unafraid to have its stars over 50 is "Bo..."...
Carl Sack: Gee, I can't say it.
[- gesturing toward the cameras and the audience - ]
Carl Sack: It would, um, break the wall.

I love it. They used when appropriate old footage from previous movies and actors to describe memories. They even wrote an episode in a previous season based around a TV show William Shatner did in the 50s, where he played a lawyer with another actor as his father. It was an excellent episode.

The writing is incredible. The actors are incredible. The man who plays "Carl Sack" was in Night Court in the 80s playing a sex driven money grubbing bootlick. He was good there. He is GREAT here, playing much the opposite although still very dapper.

Most members of this cast have had great success in both television and in movies. Sometimes it seems it is the show were old Star Trek characters go, one of the leads played "Odo" on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, another - a judge - played Quark on the same series. Denny Crane one of the leads played by William Shatner was of course James T Kirk in every form of Star Trek right up until 2009's Star Trek film.




my hands hurt like hell, the pains swarming again, i'm done for now.

Its not actually Woodstock, I think this was 1970.

Watch Joe Cocker in the first 30 seconds. Just try to contemplate what drugs he was on? Good God, to feel that good! I think my friend Paul is heading over, I have some stuff for his motorcycle, the 2004 Moto Guzzi 750 Breva. Used to be my Moto Guzzi. Greatest bike I ever had. Well greatest modern bike, my 73 Triumph and 78 BMW were both WONDERFUL bikes!

This is my more recent Youtube vid, little bit of motorcycle talk, little bit of music, and some pipe tobacco


I've got my homeless man's beard going on, and my slicked back hair. I'm not shaving till summer time, 'cept over and under the lip hahaha. My beard is growing red like my father's. We are different men though, different experiences. I have tattoos, pop never did that.

Back in Phoenix, pre-tattoo, no beard, more hair



Different pipe, made by the same company, and HORRIBLE tobacco. Thats some of the worst stuff I ever smoked, but at $19 a tin, you smoke everything you've got. In the background you can see a bag from a record store in San Fran - I<3 Records. You can see a picture of my friend Liam who I think the world of. Pictures of the Moto Guzzi, Triumph, Triton, Jack Nicholson on a Harley, lol. Pepsi and Pipe tobacco, my two drugs.

My hair was slicked back with 00 grease. I have 5 gallons of that at Brent's house, its used in old (and I mean OLD) motorcycle gearboxes. We're talking 1955 and back. Considering my dream machine is 1967 though, how old is old?

Here's another one


This is or was not long after I got home from Phoenix. I shaved my head about a month before I came home. You can tell a fair amount about me from my videos, you can get a real idea for what kind of a guy I am. Sometimes words on a page just don't quite cut it.

That stereo is now in the room we started in, my bedroom. I now have a queen size bed, the workbench is just a workbench. The house was built in the 20's here in Worcester. Big old house. Not a standard New Englander when it comes down to it, but its weathered 91 years of New England winters, so there's that.

I'm done for a bit.

Peace!

Another one bites the dust

I just got word that Tom's dead. Since that list was last updated Mike, Shawn, Patrick, Mark, all died. There are only 4 of us left. I want to cry. I want to scream out. I can't. I'm numb. I'm immune.

I have now been diagnosed with 3 syndromes and PTSD. I am 25. I have seen so much death. I have seen so much. 

I tried to go work the phones at SJ tonight to try to raise money for the annual fund. My body locked up before it started. I did get to see a couple old friends from high school though which was cool. 

I'm tired and I feel old as the moon. I don't like this. I don't like feeling like this. I miss being touched. I miss being cuddled. I have not been held by another guy in 10 years. I don't know when again... or if I ever will be again. Tom died from Heroin. Tom died because he was doing porn at the age of 13. I don't even know Tom's real name, and he died not ever knowing mine. Isn't that a kick in the head?

I'm just seeking a shelter from this storm.