‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Yes, this is the title of an excellent film from back in the 80’s but it has also become my mantra before my “BFF” Joey comes out to Scottsdale, AZ. God love him for leaving Boston to travel to the cultural wasteland of Arizona for 32 hours of visitation with me. It means a lot but truthfully, I can’t say for sure that even I would do it, if the roles were reversed.

No matter how one looks at the situation, we are long overdue for a visit. We keep each other in check and I think both of us have been pacing the edge of that proverbial cliff for some time. Things have become bottled up and abnormal stress levels have come into our lives. Not surprisingly, we view these concerns in a completely separate, opposite manner. Issues around aging have become a factor for each of us in different ways. We are both doing what we must do to ‘get by’ but, I don’t think either one of us are in authentically happy places right now. I will know more soon enough.

There is an undeniable white elephant to deal with as well and that is that somehow, all of the motivation and determination to find a home in Boston has come to a crawl. It is a conversation that mom, Joey and I will have to have together. The irony is that it works for all of us simply because we are friends. No matter what, I will always be the “child” to my mother. But Joey is the perfect mediator for times like these so I will certainly take advantage of the opportunity.

What I know for sure is that by the time Joey has boarded the plane back to Boston, he will have smacked me around, given me a jab, an upper cut and a bucket of ice water. (Metaphorically speaking…) Trust and believe that I will have had a very similar effect on him. It is our duty to one another in a way. He and I are well aware of how important these visits are. 

Surprisingly, I have the impression that my mom is more excited to see him than even I am. I am glad for that because Joey has a tremendous effect on her. She gets a spark back and seems lighter on her feet in a way. Perhaps it is because he represents change and all the great things that invariably she is striving toward at the moment.

Right now, as I sit here, I know Joey will be here in a couple of days and I can tell you that I sense that something is going to happen during his time here. I foresee a monumental shift, a change in mind or a revelation that will affect the plans that have already been made. I know it. I feel it and truth be told. It doesn’t terrify me. It instead, makes me question the skills I have developed to manage change and adaptation.

'Aging; how it affects my psyche?...my vanity?...my attractions?'

Friday, February 28, 2014

Someone once told me that for gay men, life is over at 30. That aging is more difficult for the gay community than it is for actresses aging in Hollywood.  Though I feel that both these statements are gross exaggerations, they do have a small ring of truth to them.

Personally, I am learning to accept aging in a mature way and at a reasonably good pace. I work hard at staying healthy, in shape and I am happy with the way I look. I enjoy working out and these days, I seem to be doing it more for me rather than for someone else. In the past, I don’t think I would have been able to say that.

My hair began thinning when I was 22. I only recently began to embrace my ‘Jason Stathom’ look in the past year or so. The rough look seems to work for me though. The lines that have begun to develop around my eyes; the quintessential laugh lines… I like them. People have always said that I have ‘old eyes’; intense and even hard – so perhaps I am catching up. As far as my body goes, it is better now than it was ten or even 15 years ago. It’s muscular, flexible, linear in composition. I have a gymnast’s build. I am doing alright for 33. I will be released when I am 37 so I hope to feel the same then as I do now.

As a gay man over 30, I know that for a long time, my attractions were driven by my penis. I was incredibly visual, physical, almost carnal. I could care less if guys could piece together basic sentences. Today though, I am still visual – but in different ways. I have now also incorporated more character and emotional traits into my attraction draws. I can tell the difference between simply being attracted to the fantasy of being with someone versus the authentic person.

Things that get my attention? I love men, masculine men who know their way around a football game, who are comfortable in jeans and baseball hats etc., but are still capable of navigating through this season’s Tom Ford line. I prefer men that go easy on their manscaping. (Grooming is great, but going completely hairless is visually awkward to me… just saying.) I am drawn to men who stay in shape and know how to challenge me mentally.

Typically I look at whether I see myself waking up next to them in the morning; could I trust him, share life and have those wonderful, comfortable silences with him.

Since I lean toward the masculine spectrum, it will always get my attention when a man is powerful enough to tell me “No” and actually get my consideration. I am not exactly sure what that means, but it works more or less.

There you have it; my simple, perhaps impossible list of attractions.

'A Not So Typical Mother-Son Relationship'

Monday, January 13, 2014
 
This past Saturday, I was on the phone with my mom talking about my biological father. This is a chapter of our lives from 30 years ago and I think both of us realized the ride we have been on since then.
In the beginning, I idolized her. She was beautiful, popular, stylish, strong and rebellious in her own right. I was clearly her little man. She raised me as an adult and as a best friend. When I look back, I think it worked for us. At the same time though, I was still able to take heed when she was putting on the proverbial “mother” hat.

As she developed a relationship with the man I was to call my father, I still came first in everything. When he died, it served to reaffirm the bond that she and I had.

When it came to acceptance, she was the best. She supported my modeling, my homosexuality and whatever else I chose to do. We socialized together regularly in comingled social circles as well as individually and it worked.

Coming to prison changed the dynamic in ways that made the both of us admit that some things became pretty difficult. It was no longer a team effort. I needed her, but could no longer be there for her. At the time, I was too stunned at my circumstances to truly realize what my incarceration had done. Over the years though, it has become clear that she stopped living her life, almost as if she had come to prison with me. She immersed herself in her work and has remained there since. Sometimes the pressure, and yes, the guilt of that is too much for me to bear. On a rare occasion, I can motivate her to go out and do something. When she does, she shops for clothes and shoes but unfortunately goes nowhere to wear them.

She has refused to leave Arizona until I am released and that – is final.

Understand that the realization of this only began to sink in about 4 years ago. It was at that time that I began to see a change in roles. It was as if my maturity had skyrocketed and I evolved metaphysically into a parental position. The irony in this is that I have had to readjust my behavior, my expectations etc..

I try to think how our lives would be if I hadn’t come to prison because I know this incarceration has had such an impact on our relationship.

I see her now at visit and she is still beautiful, strong, popular stylish and rebellious. Behind the designer shades though, her eyes are sad and tired. That is from my doing, I am no longer her little man. I am her incarcerated son; her child. It took 33 years to form that aspect of our relationship.

The Man in the Mirror

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

‘The man in the Mirror’

As I stood shirtless before one the many bathroom mirrors this morning, brushing my teeth and washing the sleep off of my face, I locked eyes with myself. I began to quickly analyze the man I have become.

I am older now, but in a good way. There is no mistaking me for a boy, or somebody in their 20’s. I feel as though I am a handsome man, but that could be because I am surrounded by men who have not taken good care of themselves in life. I have an impenetrable look that can be taken as cold or intimidating. Over the years, the color of my eyes have become lighter and yet, they appear to be almost lonely. There is no denying that I have secrets which I guard very closely. I maneuver throughout each day as if I am completely unaffected by all that goes on around me. But it is all a lie. I have simply become an excellent actor.

The honest truth is that over the past year or so, I have become so good at keeping up appearances that even my friends and family think that I am “okay”. Really, I have just become tired of complaining or talking about my ‘stuff’. I am the only one who can work on me, so I do that on my own. I have chosen this.

I am incredibly driven physically and determined mentally to be the best David that I can be. For now, that means baby steps for me. Again, I have chosen this.

There is so much good within me, but I repress that here. I have developed the ability to know the difference between right and wrong, truth and a lie, reality and fantasy. I am a positive thinking man in a negative thinking environment.  I feel dirty all of the time. It feels like there is a permanent layer of filth upon my skin; a layer of drugs, deceit, grime and rotting teeth. A layer that I will never be able to escape until the day I walk away from this place.

My tattoos tell a story in the mirror reflection. They are bold and unique; rebellious but beautiful. They are both telling and secretive. Soon, my shirt will hide them again and, as I slide my glasses upon my face, the real David will also slide back inside for safe keeping.

Alone, but safe.

That is my man in the mirror.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Wednesday, January 1, 2014
 
I would have done this yesterday but I was pretty much asleep by the time the ball dropped in Times Square. The last New Year’s Eve that I actually celebrated was in 2000, the millennium and the memory of that is still very much alive with me. I will hold onto that until I am allowed the opportunity to make new memories. 

So 2014 means that I now officially have 4 more years to go before completing my sentence. There really is light at the end of this journey for me. Now I am eligible to be moved to a minimum custody level prison if the administration believes I would be productive there.

It also means that I have now spent 12 years behind wire fences and barbed wire.

Enough Said.

Like so many others, I did make some New Year resolutions. I usually keep them to myself so that if I break one, nobody knows about it and therefore, can’t say anything. Still, I decided to share them this year and what better way to do that than here, with my readers?

DAVID’S NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

 

1. BE MORE TOLERANT: I would really like to be more tolerant to others. I go up and down with this at times and, as often is the case, it is completely mood driven. I need to be more even keeled and consistent.
2. BE KINDER TO MYSELF: For those who know me well, I can be a mixed bag. I am however, very self-critical in ways that make me seem crazy. The majority of it is physical changes i.e.; loss of hair, lines in the face, body changes. The problem is that time didn’t stop simply because I came to prison. I subconsciously blame my physical changes on my incarceration and therefore, view them as negatives. That way of thinking does me no good. It is not healthy and certainly not kind.
3. BE FUTURE DRIVEN:It’s so easy for people in prison to give up on the future because we to worry about simply surviving every minute of every day. Sometimes planning next week seems premature – so we don’t. For me, the future has been a “yeah, whatever…” topic because it has always seemed so far away.  I mean, why plan – if I could be killed tomorrow or beaten up so badly that I can’t carry out basic daily functions? These are the ‘what if?’ things that I never share with the people closest to me because I don’t want to worry them. But they are always in the back of my mind though. Every years that passes, is a year I do not have to do again though so I need to make some serious decisions for my future. It’s time.

With that said, I wish everyone a very Happy 2014! Take care of yourselves and do your best to find honor in all that you do!

When the past comes back, it is not always a bad thing; "The ‘What ifs’ are interesting to think about though."

Thursday, February 14, 2013

My ex partner and I have always sporadically been in contact since our break up. He is a good man who was supportive of me, but the demise of our relationship was twofold; we both made mistakes along the way and the accident was seemingly, the icing on the cake. Initially our communication was confusing for me because our love and memories complicated things. Now though, I believe we are in a really good place. He is a friend and that simple, yet powerful fact surprises me. The very fact that we have a history and have been able to see one another evolve, grow and become better versions of ourselves adds to that bond.

The past year or so, we have been in more steady contact and he has been out to visit a few times. He is relocating to NYC next week from San Francisco for a new job and I am thrilled for him. This coming Saturday will likely be the last time I will see him for a good while, so I am looking forward to that for sure.

As I was speaking to him on the phone yesterday, he asked; “Do you think if the accident had not happened that we’d be doing the whole marriage and kids thing?” I paused and then said that I didn’t think so because I would have inevitably messed things up between the two of us. I stated that it’s quite possible that if not for the accident, that ha and I might not even be in contact at all. After a period of silence, he agreed. Again, I have no idea where my life would be or what I’d be doing if I was not here. I do not harp on those possibilities… The ‘What ifs’ are interesting to think about though.

Right now, today, all I think about is what’s to come. That is what gives me peace of mind. This life is not ‘it’ for me, but if not for it, well, I have no idea where I’d be. Is that something to be thankful for?

Time stops for no one; "Looking ahead is really all I can do now.."

Monday, December 24, 2012

Things have been okay for the past couple of days. It very well could be the calm before the storm, but perhaps not. I am hoping that not too many attempt making ‘hooch’ (prison alcohol) for New Year’s Eve. That whole thing typically turns out badly. All I can do is wait and see. As you can imagine, an environment filled with drunken, testosterone storming inmates, especially those who have brains the size of a fruit fly… is not a good thing. Most of us end up running for cover.

It’s hard for me to believe that 2013 is almost here. It’s bittersweet to know that I have chipped away so many years of this sentence. Looking back is not easy because it’s insane when I consider all that I have been through. Looking ahead is really all I can do now. I have basically five years left on my sentence but I can still vividly remember day 1 of it. I doubt I will ever forget it. I know that I should feel lucky for having made it this far, but I do not. I truly feel that it has nothing to do with luck. It has everything to do with how successful one can be at adapting and playing the ‘game’.

Then I will look over the wall and see John. I try to imagine being in his shoes. How would I feel having a release date of 2038?

I wonder how I would handle that?

A thought provoking visit with mom; "It was a reality check for both of us."

Monday, December 24, 2012, Christmas Eve morning

My visit with mom yesterday was good. We actually talked about the blog a lot and she began to ask if I would consider writing a book. I informed her that if I quit my job, then I could dedicate myself to that, but that I had no idea who would want to read a book about this stuff. But then again, I do realize that there is a genuine interest of what really goes on in here, so maybe I should think more seriously about it. (If any of you have any thoughts or comments on this prospect, please feel free to share them…)

As usual, mom asked me if I still loved Marc, my ex. I told her that I do not love him anymore but that I will always care for him. He was, and is, the only man that I have ever truly been ‘in love’ with, so he will always play a role within my thoughts.  There is no escaping that simple fact. If I could take back things from that time; things I did, things I didn’t do, then I would. Mom however, has always loved Marc and until I meet someone else in the future, she will continue to always revert back to him. I have grown to accept it for what it is.

As I was sitting across from her though, I came to a very real and visceral awareness. I suddenly became very aware that my mom is no longer that alive, energetic and vivacious 51 year old woman that I left behind when I came to prison. It is quite possible that because I see her so often, I simply have not noticed or taken the time to really see her. Yesterday however, I truly saw her. I’ll candidly admit, it scared me a little. The years have changed us both and as much as we both would like to stop time, we cannot.  In any case, it was a reality check for both of us. That realization was a tough pill to swallow. When I came back to my dorm, I headed to the bathroom to once again look in the mirror. The reflection was that of a 32 year old man. I gave him a nod and went back to my cubicle.

Aging is Physical 1st, Psychological 2nd; "Things have changed."

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

So, this morning as I was shaving in the bathroom, I had reality hit me in the face like a sledgehammer. I hate when this happens. My shirt was off and somehow, I began to focus on my torso and face. I studied myself with great intensity. Things have changed. I shave my head now. I used to have beautiful hair. The wrinkles around my eyes are longer and much more pronounced. My eyes appear to be lighter and for some reason, much more walnut, or honey in color.

My body however, has never been in such great physical shape. Every muscle is alive and defined. The tattoos on my body are all Asian in theme and strategically placed to work with the musculature of my body. I love it, yet it feels almost foreign to me. The feeling is hard to explain.

I definitely look older though. Just how much older? I do not know. I still see me, but a very different version. I can’t help but to wonder; will I age much more by the time I get out of here, or not? Will this place preserve me like some person laying lifeless in a morgue, or will I get out looking weathered and beaten as so many people do? I am altogether saddened by the very thought of that. It’s not that I am concerned about the physical appearance in itself… it’s more that the change in my appearance, signifies that time has passed. It is time that I have lost.