Archive for February, 2013

15
Feb
13

A Day in the Life of Love

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It’s Valentines Day. I’m single, sarcastic, spiritual and stoned. So of course it turns into quite an interesting day 🙂

Let’s see:
Morning hike to work, pulling a successful webinar out of my ass, car drama and a superhero big brother, words with a friend, power ballad naked karaoke for one, helping a buddy test out his new sex sling, and double stuff Oreos with my evil twin while watching Sex and the City episodes? Yes, please!

I might be going to bed alone, but I’m quite a sexy valentine to have. I might even put the moves on myself…

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13
Feb
13

Thoughts on the A Train

In preparation for a friend’s birthday party, whose theme was celebrating personal transformations, I wrote this piece. Having agreed last minute to MC this event (I was in NyC for work coincidentally), I wanted to come prepared to share as the invitation requested. A transformation of either the past,the present or the future. The party was a celebration in 3 Acts – quite an intimate and engaging community building event. But I’d expect no less from the one of a kind host 🙂

Jammed into a Saturday night crowded A train, armed with my Holiday Inn Express pen and pad, trying my best to look cool and prepared for East Coast winter – I scribbled. A current transformation; to embrace my spirituality and sensuality in the same breath and not as isolated sides of a torn and searching soul. Embracing that both are at my core. Of course, this was prompted by the irritation (and rejection) I was feeling from my, well, um hook up apps. I had been on the road 7 days at this point with no booty. Criminal, right?

It is rare that I recite something raw, but I didn’t have time to edit – so herein lies the first draft version I shared under the candlelight in Birthday Act 2. Of corse I can start more easily trapped in rhyme, but it opens up towards the middle…when I got a seat on the train 🙂

……….

As I’ve begun to explore my inner freak,
I’ve assumed my spiritual future would be less than bleak.

That God is nowhere to be found
As I find pleasure round after round…

The Preacher’s Son that deep inside
Is being forced to duck and hide.

And it’s frustrated me time after time
To encourage everyone’s exploration, except for mine.

Stuck between the rock and hard place Of Spiritual and Freak.
Yet feeling a divine voice remind me that I, am unique.

I know a secret I’m all too glad to share,
My Divine Spirit follows me everywhere.

She doesn’t sit idly by waiting to be praised,
Or sit in judgment as many of us were taught as we were raised.

But when your brain is so forcefully taught that something is real –
I becomes easier and easier to ignore what your spirit feels.
And easier and easier to incorrectly name
The source, of that increasing shame.

Is it that I dare to love someone with anatomy like me?
That I believe love can exist in couples of more than 3?
Or that I have church in unlikely places
And find the beauty in those we should deny embraces?

Perhaps you find it blasphemous when
I denounce the saint who loves the sinner but hates the sin.
An ethical slut. A holy fuck.

A mind warped freak that believes in both grace and luck.
Doomed as an outcast from the stylish yet incredulous boxes of saints and sinners alike.
Searching for a community that won’t reject me for loving God or loving man.
I’ve yet to find it.

Amazed, by all the distance we create
In our convenient technological ways to stay close.

Do I really need to know that 250 men within 5 miles of me only fuck white guys?
O hate fate, fems, brown folks (even being brown themselves)
Or have a crazy definition of masculinity?
That my looking for something “more” Is offensive?
That my compliments are insulting?
That I’m your exception because I “don’t even look black!”

It is easy to internalize this wall of hate and return it.
But who, then, will teach the baby gays what fucking social skills are?

Dick sucking isn’t dirty, but wanting to laugh with you is.
Flogging you free of your childhood trauma isn’t as controversial as wanting to know your name.
Loving you because that’s my choice, not because you have to earn it. That’s crazy of me?

My sexuality scares my religious community.
My compassion scares my dating pool.
Where then do I go?
Where do morality and ethics exist in this lonely place?

How do I get the holy roller to embrace their freak
And the slut to nurture his spirit?

By being the sexiest fucking martyr you ever met.
By taking that confusion, misplaced fear and hate,
And returning it with love.
Compassion.
And good sex.

By remembering, always remembering
That I am not alone in this lonely space
Just aware.

And committing to reflect the beauty I see in you,
No matter now ugly you know yourself to be.
Now that’s hot.