Categories
Health Malibu

February

Madness, when it comes upon me is a grueling mystery to solve.  For months now I have been gripped with what started out merely as a broken heart.

When one begins to feel the onset of ones own brand of insanity it is always impossible to make sense of the confusing depth and range of emotions.

In the midst of the maelstrom it all feels so incredibly real.  Yet, as we are well aware, once sanity returns:  FEELINGS are not FACTS.

Regardless of how and why I experienced such a destructive wave of emotion I could only wait, as one does, for the storm to end.

It was galling that I had not suffered a comparable emotional torment for many years, fourteen in fact.  As you have read on these pages, when I first got sober I had the same misery, the same terrible sense of powerlessness that has overwhelmed me every day since last January.

There is no way to prepare for such misery.  One can only pray that it passes.  That it passes swiftly and without too much damage being inflicted on either myself or others.

I have learned so much these last few months.  Learned the very good and the very bad about myself.   It is so incredibly lonely when one is gripped by such furious indignation.

After the storm inevitably there is the wreckage.  After the storm, picking up the pieces of everything that has been smashed and knowing that it is impossible to mend what is so utterly broken.

Salvaging first and foremost ones dignity.

On this occasion I know that I have done irreparable damage to myself.  I used to have hope and I no longer do.  The reserve of hope that I was born with is exhausted.

In many ways I have been returned to that moment last January before we met when I had everything to look forward to.  It is now up to me to start again.  Start building, start a positive dialogue with myself that may include some sort of sanctuary.

My body is wrecked from these past few months.  Fighting, fighting, fighting.

Fighting what was growing inside me, fighting the feelings, fighting my true intentions to be a good and better person.

I have no idea what comes next.  I know in my heart, in the pit of my stomach, in my soul…that I will never attempt to have another relationship.  I seem truly incapable of that basic human connection and unable to deal with the associated feelings of inadequacy that swamp me once I meet any person I value.

I dare not take that risk.

I know that all familiar avenues others take for granted are now closed to me.

When I was a child, the only way I could express my fury at the world was to smash everything in my room.  Everything I held dear.   It was my only option.  There was nowhere to run, no place to hide.

And what of him?

Well, I hope and pray that he is already living a wonderful life, that he has great and extraordinary beauty ahead of him.  I know that he is capable of things I can only dream about.  I finally expunged his name from this blog and worked hard to uncouple him from me in the virtual ether.  His ‘bit of fun’ turned into a nightmare for us both but I am determined to forgive him…the alternative will merely drag me into further insanity.

He is not the problem.  He must be part of the solution.

If I am truly over this catastrophe then I must love him as much as I must love the unfair world around me.  He is a stranger now.  He will remain a stranger.

For what once felt so beautiful, as I predicted, must now be an inconsequential blip.

To this end I must accept any and all of my own shortcomings.  I must see my part in this drama.  Own my part in it.

I must let God take back the reigns.

There are other more important lessons to learn, adventures to be had…but I will not learn any of them unless I can truly forgive.

Categories
art Health Rehab

Therapy

I spent the past few days in therapy.  I have a cold.  Therapy and a cold.   A brutal combination.

I didn’t really feel like doing anything yesterday.  I just hung around at home.  Then, rather dumbly, decided to go to Wholefoods on Union Square.  It was packed.  I bought spicy meatballs.  I bought white chocolate.

I sent the more completed treatment (with notes) off to London.  The more I think about it the more I want to shoot it there and not in NYC.

I am going on a road trip this weekend.  Driving to Buffalo.

Dan and I had dinner out last night.  As we were leaving the restaurant he pointed to an MLK quote written in chalk on a blackboard.

I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”

I have been dragging a big bag of hate around with me since I received that childish email this summer.  A bag of hate bound up with cancer, shame, resentment..fear.

My hate and my cancer were inextricably linked.  My hate for him.

I am trying to love.  Trying to forgive.  Not Jake, he’s just a silly symptom.  I am trying to forgive my dad for all the terrible things he did to me.  Once again.  That old chestnut.  How am I going to survive this legacy?

One more day.

The effects of childhood abuse can have more severe consequences for a gay man.  A sizeable number of all people who are abused in childhood have extreme difficulty regulating their emotions as adults.

The effects of sexual activity, regardless of the child’s desire or participation are significant and damaging.  A child is quite capable of strong sexual feelings but incapable of handling the emotional aftermath of such feelings.

Survivors of violent childhood abuse are complicated to say the least.

[wpvideo nxdGsTmp]

Categories
Health

A Legitimate Family

Still sparkling!  Last day in Whitstable.

Have no plans for tonight and happily so.

My friend Blair drove 30 miles from Wingham to take me to breakfast.  We hadn’t seen each other for 20 years and pretty much picked up from where we left off.  It was really wonderful to see him.  He’s still married to his wife and has three kids.  After breakfast we went shopping for his boy’s 18th birthday.

Blair reads my blog and told me to stop moaning so much.  It was funny and heart warming..he said, “I know that’s not you..”  Which is true..I have not been myself for some considerable time.

Honestly, I think that the Sex Rehab programme/experience really went to my head.

I changed in many ways after I left the show..some good…some bad.  The limited fame and attention, the intoxicating buzz I had every day whilst being filmed…and then the crazed fan who I thought might love me.

With the all clear comes the ALL CLEAR!!

Blair and I wandered up the High Street.  I must have chatted with 20 people of varying ages.  Each of them asked what I was up to and if I was happy…some of them read this..so they knew LOADS.  One of my favorite Dengate boys (rugby player) and his sweet infant stopped me outside Budgens and  warmly greeted me.

I always feel so honoured to have these people in my life.

Something really has shifted.

I got caught up in something peculiarly Hollywood.  I got caught up in the inconsequential periphery of the industry and the unhealthy effects and lost my way.  Now I have to put that all to rest and own up to some glorious mistaken identity.

We watched a bad TV documentary about Michael Jackson last night and the various fixers and characters around him..of course I know the real players in that story and none of them were in the show.  The guys who make the real money, make the real decisions.  It was fascinating to see how the documentary maker had the wool pulled over his eyes..yet, it’s true that the bigger the family you belong to in LA the more likely you are to get on.  SAA, AA..Scientology etc. each a legitimate family for the waifs and strays washed up on the west coast.

My legitimate family is here in Whitstable.  They can and do absorb the greater part of my ego.   I am sitting with Georgina at the B&B trying to repair her tumble drier.  Does that seem absurd?  That this makes me happy?

I missed my nephews birthday party because I was sick with this flu.

New Years Resolution Number One:  Don’t write blog until I have completed a stiff walk up a steep hill.

I bought two new hats:

 

Congratulations to Tanya Sarne and Wendy Dagworthy..my new OBE friends.

Happy New Year Everyone!

Categories
Health Rant

Invincible

There have indeed been months of worry and a pervading sense of doom.   Liberated from all of this…I feel invincible.

Emotionally, physically and spiritually life has been particularly nasty.

Now, unencumbered with either fear of imminent death, financial insecurity due to exceptional sales of art and my recommitment to a more sober life (without internet obsessions) I will fight what ever I need to fight to make my life comfortable and fair.

I will step out of the shadows and into the light.

I promise you all that the next man I let into my bedroom will be treated like a whore.  The next man I let into my heart will be treated like the king I expect him to be.

No more half measures.  No more wasted tears.  No more.

I will never again let a liar and a thief rampage through my life expecting him to value what he is given.   I would rather be alone than suffer another fool.  Diminishing returns are not my thang.

Monkey man on my back.   A crazed fan who thought he knew me from seeing me on the TV and was appalled by who I actually am.  Even how old I am.  Oh, God…thank you for delivering me from him.  There are occasions when no amount of forgiveness will do.

As for going back home to LA?  I sent a picture of my cock and sack to my worst enemies and told them to expect me home soon.    I let them know that they might have been wishing for a different outcome but their prayers failed.

That includes you…my Westchester readers.  Go fuck yourselves.

The first thing that needs to happen?   The house comes off the market.

The second thing that happens?   I make my next movie.  Try stopping me.

The third thing that happens?  I move back to NYC .

If I ever see his ugly mug again?  I will chase him up the street like the cheap crook he is.  God didn’t give me a second chance to get weak..he gave me a second chance to make my dreams come true.

I do not need a man to make me whole.  I am whole.  I am strong.  I do not need to love a man to make me feel complete, nor do I feel lonely when I am alone.

I have never needed anyone but quite by chance I have you…the people who read this and make me feel better, connected…thank you…again…thank you.  The people who only met me on the TV, the people who know me for real…the people who opened their houses and their hearts during this most terrible few months.

I left school when I was 16.  I did everything I could to survive-including not sleeping with every man who promised me a dream.   My greatest adventures are still to come.

Did you like the picture of me and the Picasso?  I thought that sitting below a $35, 000, 000 picture would give you a clue to where I can sit when I put my mind to it.

Categories
Health

Let’s Start Again Shall we?

Laying in my bed with this fever..seems like a bad time to start cleaning house but that’s what I find myself doing.

As the New Year approaches we all attempt to make changes in our lives, commit or recommit to breaking old habits and focus on what we know is good for us.

Looking back at this eventful year…wasn’t it just?  Of course I think about you-know-who but how I think about him must change.

Already I am wondering why a man I knew for so little time and spent even less real-time became so bloody important to me.

That’s a question I need answering with the help of a therapist.

I can dress it up as a huge romance..or I can tell it as it is…two addicts clinging onto one another for safety.   So few words to describe something that has bugged me all year.

My abandonment issues, separation angsiety…all makes sense.

Jake lingers in my nutty mind because in March I will be carrying the can for the both of us in court.

As irritable as I am about the court date..March 25th (I will be really pissed as the date approaches) I am in the sort of mood where if I were a King I would be pardoning all manner of prisoners.   The prisoner I am pardoning today..is me.  I deleted my Manhunt account, my Adam 4 Adam account and lastly..my Gaydar account.    I must say..it’s a tremendous relief.

All I have to recommit to is my porn problem…which is not as bad as it was but still figures in my fantasy life.

The great thing about AA or SAA or any 12 step programme is that we can always start again.  You know as well as I do how topsy-turvy everything has been these past few months..how thrown off course I have been.

Wandering up the High Street today, a light rain on my face, even though I am really sick..I felt happy.  Incredibly at ease with everything.

I am not in competition with anyone.  Not for a better time, not for a bigger house, not for more money or a better job.  I have quite enough of everything.  I always have.

You know, I am going to tell you something:  I have been praying hard for Jake to be okay.  Praying for his career, his love life, for adventure and peace of mind.

Would I want to be him?  No.  Would I have wanted his life thus far?  No.  Instead of hating him I have been getting some perspective.  Sure, I wasted a great deal of time on that young man, and it feels like not much has been learned..but I am sure that as time passes I will think differently about that.

I can see that not many people anywhere, how ever rich they are..are very happy.  On the face of it Jake had everything a young man could possibly want but just pick at the surface and there’s nothing there.   Happiness is so elusive for so many.  The folks I know here in Whitstable are especially grumpy.   They drink too much, they feel trapped, they are ignorant of so much…yet they live in harmony.

I sometimes wonder if it would have been better for Jake to stay in the closet..if you want to call it that.   They were happy together.  They were soul mates.  He just wanted a bit of cock on occasions…or did he?  For as much as he dismissed what he wanted from me as a ‘bit of fun’, I know for sure that he wants to be loved.

I never really understood what it was about his Father or Mother that made him lie to them.  Were they hideously judgemental?  Homophobic?  Unlikely as his dad is a psychiatrist.  Most probably they are as entitled as he is.  What happened to little Jake?  Precious Jake?

I chatted with someone Jake knew at University last week.  I asked if it was a particularly macho anti-gay university…as Jake had described it.  My friend laughed out loud..he said that it was like going to the Castro in San Francisco.   Ithaca is a private upstate liberal arts college.

He must have lied to me all the time.

He must have been really unhappy.  I hope he gets happier.

Hanging with Tom the other day…he’s happy…his wife and kid seem happy too.  That’s something to aspire to.  I have always wanted the mince-pie, brocade and topiary sort of comfort he has and then I look around and see that I already have it.

As you may have noticed…the blog didn’t go private because there doesn’t seem to be a way on WordPress for me to do that.  Oh well.

BTW, it’s that time of year again where I get to vote for who will win this years BAFTA for best film, director, etc.   I realized, as I was voting for the best male actor, that I knew every one of them personally and had slept with two of them.

Strange but true.

Categories
Health

Beastly Influenza

It’s quite a chore this nasty flu bug.   I couldn’t sleep a wink all night…my skin felt as if it were being burned from my flesh, my eye balls bursting out of my skull, sweat pouring from brow and pits.

Then, at dawn, the temperature abated and I was left floating in a semi daze on my damp bed.  The Little Dog looking closely at my face as if I wasn’t anyone he knew.

My hosts and I all fell at the same fence so spent today in our rooms.  I made my way out of the house to buy thick pea and bacon soup from Dave’s Deli on Harbour Street.   The dog crapped outside The Oyster Co.   I broke all my rules and bought some linctus for my throat and cough.

Ed called…rather miserable that I couldn’t meet him in town.  Charlie called to discuss our trip to Sundance.   Can’t wait.  Gabe emailed to rearrange my trip to Florence.

Wondered what I would do for NYE as this flu will take a few days to shift.   No Florence until the 3rd January.    I have never had a dud NYE in sobriety..really hope this isn’t the first.   Can you imagine it?   A raging fever watching Susan Boyle on YouTube.  Happy New Year!

Got to sleep now…got to sleep.

Categories
Health

Hospital

There is something unbelievably comforting about being admitted to a hospital.

I walk through the door and hand my will and my life over to you.  You, in this instance, is Dr Eddy… a wonderful surgeon.

I said, as he was checking my testes, “Well. at least I get my balls played with…”  which, of course, he must hear a million times a year from anxious men willing a joke out of a miserable situation.

Tested testes, blood tests, more scans…I hand my will and my life over to you Kent and Canterbury Hospital.

This wouldn’t be the first time.  After our car accident, when I was a kid, I stayed in the very same hospital for 5 weeks with major head injuries.   It must have been very traumatic for my Mother to have seen me smashed to pieces at the edge of the road..after having lost the big dog like that..what must it have been like to see your own child covered in blood?

Being in hospital is like returning to the womb…like taking heroin.

Georgina drove me to Canterbury and on the way home we  stopped in Tankerton where we had a wonderful lunch at JoJo‘s.  Croque Monsieur.

Georgina waited for me in one of the long hospital corridors and a man in a wheel chair asked her to help him take a pee.  She declined his offer.

Yesterday I drove to Calais and dropped the car at the ferry terminal saving me $500 in fees.  I sat on the boat and marveled at how ugly and badly dressed everyone was.  On the way there I ate a sandwich and on the way back I ate fish and chips.

On the train home I met a really beautiful twenty year old blonde boy who took one look at my pink shoes and..well, he knew what the story was/is.  Anyway, bright as a button, cheeky chappy decorator who I may see later on in the year when he gets back from Australia.   I love men like him.

Somebody else, spotting my pink shoes, called me a homo.  I began to think vengeful thoughts..then I met the blonde man and things took a turn for the better.

Categories
Gay Health

Shoreditch House

‎”During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.” –George Orwell

Sitting high above Shoreditch listening to German film producers discuss the “Vest Village”.

A beautiful black girl is swimming in the pool.

I am drinking coffee, eating poached eggs and listening to Haydn’s cello concerto.

It is a beautifully gray London day.  The bitterness has vanished, no longer raw…swept out of the city northward to snowy Scotland.

As per all of the subscribe requests.  When I go private on the 21st I think you will be prompted by the site to apply etc.  I’ve no idea…does anyone else know?

Last night student demonstrators separated the royal cars from their out riders and scared the poor Duchess of Cornwall.  Good pictures on BBC website.  Nasty old cow.

I have spent the past few days in Worcester with Tim and my God daughter Immy.   Drove up North after a busy Wednesday in London.   I had lunch with Edward (a new collectible) and Andrei my young friend who is currently studying political science at Cambridge.  Andrei is not gay but has been voted his colleges GLBT representative.  How is that for inclusive?

I met Andrei on a train when he was 17.  Of course he wants to make film but has decided, very sensibly, to go to film school when he is 30-when he has something to say.

After our lunch we met Charlie in Soho who was very impressed with Andrei but not so with Edward who he had met three times before but Edward never remembered.

Edward flies to NYC today.  Startlingly handsome, intelligent, elegantly dressed and really enjoying his young gay life.

Edward has just turned 24 years old.

He is being flown to NYC by a rich American he met briefly at a party last weekend.

Remember those days?

Thank you Freddy for doing the same when I was a little younger than Edward.

After lunch/tea I drove to Chelsea to be formally charged with Common Assault.

The kids who I had the screaming fit with this summer after Jake’s iPod went missing (he lost it in a drunken black out)…anyway, those kids refused to drop the charges so I will have to go to court and deal with it.

Any fine I may pay I will sue Jake for half of.

Sex Rehab is showing on British TV so I am beginning to have people come up to me here.  It’s fun.  Not as intimidating as I thought it might be.

Worcester is a pretty cathedral town in the Midlands.  I am sure that it very pretty in the summer.  Nowhere in England looks that good on a miserable wet winter evening.  Had a great time with Tim.  He seems to be getting on very well after his triple heart bypass.

Andrei

Last night I met Edward for a quick drink in Soho and then manhunt date number 19 turns up.  A BEAUTIFUL french man with green eyes.  We quickly made our way to Shoreditch to his ex council apartment and fucked for a very long time.  One of the better parts of my inheritance from Jake.  My new-found ability to fuck.

We fucked and fucked and fucked.

I still think about Jake when I fuck.

We had a really amazing time.  This morning he asked if I wanted to see him again.  I said yes but I meant no.  He knew what I meant.

Hospital on Tuesday morning.  Not thinking about it.  9.45am.

[wpvideo zsVySzB8]

Categories
Health

Ear Bar

Joe and I would go get dinner (usually steak) and very drunk in the Ear Bar on Spring Street.

Originally called the Bear bar..renamed when the B fell off.  One of the oldest existing taverns in the United States and one of the few existing examples of Federal architecture in New York.

I have wanted to get very drunk these past few nights.  I have wanted to blot out everything in my fucking pea brain with a huge amount of wine and beer.

Marc bought a bottle of Montepulciano to drink with the pheasant.  It smelt divine.

Woke up feeling so sad.

I am in Whitstable until Thursday then I have to get up and make a move.  Must go stately home hopping.   Must see the insides of huge and beautiful homes smelling of nutmeg and fir.  Must sit by roaring fires.  Must flay myself socially once again.

I am so disappointed.  So sad.  even though I know he isn’t sometimes I think I can hear him calling out to me in the night and I wake up and I think I can’t ignore him..he might need me.

Everything is just fine in Los Angeles CA.  Ashley called yesterday after her jaunt with Christina Aguilera’s husband in Miami.   I can’t wait to see her, speak with her properly about everything.

Up and down on this fucking roller coaster.  Up and down.

Categories
Health

one decaf cafe

Carol cooked rabbit stew last night and I lit a huge fire.  Too huge.  I love lighting fires.  Do you remember the particularly scary fire I lit at Caroline Conran’s haunted house Bettiscombe Manor in Dorset?  That amazingly beautiful house known as the house of the screaming scull.

There is a skull in the attic that must never leave the house..ever.

I was so scared by the ghosts at night I crawled into another guests bed with him in it.

Anyway, I built such a huge fire at Bettiscombe I  nearly burned the place down.  That could have been a very embarrassing weekend.  They all went for a walk and I dragged logs from the stable into the great hall and set them alight.  Bad move.

Lunch with Charlie at the Ivy Club.  Beautiful man sitting with his parents admired my new hair cut.  Gave me his number.  Wait for the wound to heal before we go down that route.

Bumped into Michael White.  Has he has a stroke?

Charlie really likes the film.  Everybody seems to.

We discussed Obama, he thought that I was being too tough on him.  Really?

Now we need to make the bloody film.

Dog took a huge dump in Greek Street.  No bags.  I ran away.  Bad dog owner.  Lingers on my conscience.

Really enjoying being here.  Love the snow.  Saw my friend Jess for breakfast.  Had my hair shaved and beard trimmed in Soho.  Same guy who cut it this summer.

I love listening to BBC Radio 4 whilst driving.  The languid newsmen and women, the snippy new conservative politicians as eager as hungry rodents.   They want to change everything.  ‘Fix’ everything from higher education fees to alcohol consumption.

Let’s imagine a world where the chronically inebriated are charged for all expenses incurred when arrested or injured due to drinking/drugging.

If these drunken liggers had to pay money for time spent unnecessarily in emergency rooms or police cells, pay for hospital staff or expensive police overtime you’d see an immediate shift away from the sort of hard-drinking, thuggish Friday/Saturday night behaviour this government and the rest of us wants stamping on hard asap.

Slags sliding around in stilettos in their own vomit.  Breaking their ankles.

PAY FOR IT!

Slags and Chavs.

The drive to London through heavy snow and the equally treacherous drive home totally exhausted me.  I probably shouldn’t be so eager to be this energetic.

The drive over snowy Black Heath was particularly beautiful.

Hey, I want you to know a few things about me:  I am charismatic, invincible, intelligent, creative, sophisticated, handsome, sensitive and the polar opposite of all the above.