In Acceptance?

I woke up in acceptance.  I went to bed with a strange man sleeping on the sofa.

Yesterday morning I found myself explaining what made me happy to a large group of men.   I said, “I know when I’m happy because I don’t want to change anything.   I don’t want to change the way I feel with drugs or sex or shopping.  I don’t want to change where I live or rearrange my apartment.   I am just happy with things the way they are right now.”

Lunch with Eric at the Mercantile on Sunset where we ran into Bryan and his friend Carly Chaikin who is the second lead in the film The Last Song starring Miley Cyrus.  A very sweet girl.   Delicious lunch, lots of fun, I ate duck.

After lunch Eric and I drove to Soho House where we sat on the terrace overlooking Beverly Hills drinking latte-yes I was in a latte state o’mind.

As the day progressed I felt more uncomfortable.    There were practical irritations like: HSBC in the UK had closed my bank account for no apparent reason (apparently my crime was dormancy) with money still in it.   I cannot pay bills, transfer money, now I expect long conversations with random, computer generated Indian customer service advisors that must take place before I get to the bottom of this.

I received another nasty email from a woman claiming that she was at Kristian’s funeral and that my blogged account of it is all lies.  The Mother and Father must be furious that I continue to report how they disrespect our friend in death.   I have spoken to many, many people about the funeral and how Kristian’s boyfriend of SEVEN years was told to stay away, how he is now having to fight the family for what is rightfully his-his share of the property that he and Kristian owned in France and his part of the London property.

By the time I took my nap I was feeling decidedly testy.

Had brief chat with NYC friend who seems eager to go bar hopping/hooking up.  Whatever he has in mind for himself who am I to judge?  He wants to be like all the other gay men with penis privileges.

I tried explaining to him the 12 steps, which was as satisfying as trying to teach a baboon how to knit.


So, a friend of Kristian’s came and took me to dinner-once again at the Mercantile. (I am trying to work my way through their delicious menu.)  We talked about Kristian and I shed a tear.  This was the first person I had actually sat down with since his death rather that being on the phone or random conversations on Face Book with people who had been denied entry to the funeral and had watched in amazement as Kristian’s coffin was dragged into the church, as Kristian’s mother laughed at the funeral, as she made Kristian’s boy friend of SEVEN years feel so uncomfortable at the wake he had organized he left rather than them.

As we left the restaurant I bumped into a good-looking strawberry blonde man with huge arms.   He introduced himself and we exchanged numbers.  Later that night the strawberry blond man came over and we talked until 3am.  It turns out that he is a porn performer who wants to get out of the porn performer business.  I told him that I would introduce him to Jennie.  I looked at his work on-line.  Getting fucked by men with names like Xavier and Brett.   Eagerly blowing other men with huge arms.  I thought that maybe my NYC friend would like to hook up with him at a bar.

It was good to talk to him about my own relationship with pornography.

I felt comfortable with him.  We were not about to have a conversation about God, he did not have a complicated story.  He told me about the men he had dated.  The life he has.  He looked tired so I told him he could stay over.  I hid my gold watch.  He slept on the sofa.

Earthquake the following day.  I lay in bed as it rumbled through town.  Dinner with Anna at Canele on Glendale Blvd.  Excellent roast lamb and equally delicious roast vegetables.   Met delightful Amanda and delightful Daniel.


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6 replies on “In Acceptance?”

you sound sober! cant wait to meet you in person one day. maybe you can come to sf to see mike albo’s show on may 5,6 or 7? i can take you to meet some groups of people where we can talk about acceptance and some nice lattes!

I tried writing about being happy and happiness but I was having a lot of trouble putting it all into words. You definitely hit the nail on the head. I feel the happiest when I don’t worry, when I’m in the moment and taking the world in around me.


Sorry about the banking issue. Yes, dormancy, apparently, is a shunning offense with banks. It almost happened to me. Was told to transfer $5 or so at least once a month to show “activity”?! You would think that they would be grateful not to have to generate statements — which they don’t do if nothing has changed, month to month — even if they are paperless. LOL

I know it sounds sappy, as you are quite rightly pissed off, but don’t visualize more aggravation in straightening everything out. My standby, when I feel like I’m about to pitch down a scary rabbit hole into a strange, strange corporate world of “Catch 22” — like, when it’s Thursday, “Well, if you had called Tuesday, we would have been able to accommodate you but since you didn’t, the soonest appointment we can give you is….” Had I known that I needed to do it Tuesday, I would have called on Tuesday. Does one think that I LIKE to make my life inconvenient? — is the mantra “Piece of cake. Easy as pie.” Relentlessly. In the face of all contrariness. I iterate and reiterate, “Piece of cake. Easy as pie.” Works for moving, new job, blind date, whatever. It keeps at bay daydreams of getting a big revolver & doing what Elvis did to the TV. Oh, yes, MetalRabbit has a big nasty temper & rabbits have big feet (metaphorically) to jump up and down and stomp… and maybe throw in a little jive. 😉

I am so sorry about the on-going negativity from third parties about Kristian’s funeral. The only thing I can’t understand is why his boyfriend would let himself be driven away from the funeral and a wake HE ORGANIZED, unless it was because he had the decency & graciousness to want to avoid a contretemps in front of the media that must have been in attendance, since Kristian had been a media personality. Since this seems to be getting uglier & uglier, maybe he should take his story of mistreatment by Kristian’s “family” – and if any word should be in quotes to indicate the irony, it’s that one — to the media. Maybe the media Klieg lights would send the rats scurrying back to their holes or at least make them come to an equitable settlement — for Stephen — to avoid adverse publicity. Then again, it might be fighting fire by pouring gasoline on the flames…. I wish Stephen all the best.

Please don’t let ignorant third parties get your goat. Er…, so to speak. I found that as I was becoming aware of being co-dependent and realizing that it was a choice, the less drama I wanted to deal with in my life. I know that some people love drama and live their lives like a piece of high theater but I found that I want to strive for equilibrium. The wake-up call for me was when I found myself miserable because of someone else’s on-going issues, about to be in tears at work at the injustice of it all… and I had been having a perfectly nice day. It’s not that I don’t care anymore; it’s just that I’m not going to let someone else’s trauma send my psychic sailboat onto a reef. Unless I live their life, I can’t fix their problems, and my being upset isn’t going to change anything for good or ill. We have to fix ourselves. Period. I can give support but empathizing to the point of distraction is just plain counter-productive for everyone involved. And unfortunately, some people, consciously or unconsciously, are psychic vampires. They just suck the energy right out of you and then… they’re fine, and you’re drained. Sad.

Stay safe in the land of rumbling earth. May the angels keep you, ‘Lil Dog and all the extended family that you’ve chosen to be in your life, safe as houses in heaven.



Perhaps the difficulty some have with the truth of what happened at the funeral is about denial of what is such an awful thing to to face honestly, the crime of parents rejecting their own child. Then the child dies. The situation is so painful to redeem.

I’m heartened to read you have a hearty appetite, for food, friends and for helping when you can. That’s your real account in life, and it isn’t dormant.

(I’ve been taking photos in the rain, and posting them with -eek- POETRY.)

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