Seeing Red
July 21st, 2004A new gem has been added to the crown that New York City wears as it rules over all other cities in the world: a new Target just opened in Brooklyn! I fucking hate leaving the island but dammit, I just LOOOOOVE Target so damn much. I will get dressed @ 9pm and board the A train down there to buy a 12pak of PopTarts for $2 (damn near everything @ Target costs $2). Anyway, they actually threw an opening party for the new store last night and my ass somehow weasled an invite (gotta get yourself, gotta get yourself, gotta get yourself connected) and although I host some serious Manhattan hateration/holleration in this dancerie for the outer boroughs, I got my vaccines, packed some bread and water, and braved the journey out there… got there late but it was still awesome. There was press coverage, free concessions (I love those 50 cent gooey Target brownies), I think there was a band at one point, and there were bonafide celebs all over the place. I saw a Gyllenhaal and nearly cried! Chloe Sevigny, who I keep trying to really like but never end up actually liking, was also there and I think a few of those annoying Heatherette kids, too — not actual fashion frontpeople, but like the hanger-ons. You know, the social-climbing tag-along ones who are 20yrs old but wanna kick it like they were there for all the “glamorous” drugged-out clubdays of early-90′s NYC? I just don’t get the cute factor of what they’re about. And no, I didn’t just watch Party Monster and suddenly try to think I’m an expert on the subject. I remember when the Michael Alig shit was happening all over the nation cuz the clubkids were all over TV — Geraldo, Jenny Jones, Rolanda, you name it — glittered-up fools were coming out of the woodwark, taking animal tranquilizers and talking about what a party life really is (i.e. Richie Rich with those fucking roller skates and those striped Pipi Longstocking tights). I remember that shit for real, ok. Whatever. Back to topic. The marketing masterminds @ Target are slick mofos —- throwing an buzzworthy Opening Party? Fucking great. I’m not sure how often I’ll go to Brooklyn just for Target (ok, probably never) but it was fun to check it out once. I bought a pair of black furry slippers to wear around the house, but I’m sure Mo will get to them before I do, dammit.
In the wake of all this heavy shit, I got a much-needed cellular blast of fresh air from my favorite foul-mouthed cohort Melissa yesterday afternoon before work. It’s nice when phone tag games finally pay off with actual CONTACT. I’ve been seeing her great big Girls Behaving Badly ads all over the backend of Manhattan buses for the past week, so I had to clown her ass about it. She walked me through the recent antics in her world as of late (“Fuck YOU, Leslie!”) and as always dished me a little bit of reality tv inner circle gossip (if only I was allowed to share, man) — and dude, we’re still pissed as hell about not making the cut as panelists on I Love the 90′s but as God is our witness we prevail, we prevail. It just means the upcoming audioposts will be better for ya’ll to enjoy. 
It was awesome to hear from her, the time just flew by and it put a big bounce in my othwerwise overextended afternoon at work. Oh, I did get some ill freebies via a sales rep from that Art of Shaving store, though. That junk is pimpass DELUXE-type shit. Seriously, I feel like P.Diddy with this fine skin so fresh and so clean.
UPDATE: TARGET PHOTOS!
I just found out there’s a Target just 10 minutes up from my house! It’s perfect cuz I was just thinking how badly I needed to go stockup on useless-but-essential shit, and the Queens Mall location is just so far away. This one is just one stop off the 1 train into the Bronx @ 225th St, so I’ll be bringing my gat and mexican accent with me. And maybe some crack, too, cuz I hear that’s how they do it in the Boogie Down. Shit, winners, $2 PopTarts are about to cost me my life.
Tattoo
July 19th, 2004This morning I started some of the prep work for when I begin Radiation Therapy in 2 weeks. I hadn’t slept well the night before and woke up with a horrible headache, even Mo was grouchy. I finally rolled out of bed and cabbed it to the hospital, just cuz I knew if I’d be a broken man if I had to sit on a crowded train down to Columbus Circle and spend my morning in a ragged hospital gown.
The technician and I did this thing called “mapping” where basically I lie there naked while total strangers watch and they program the big scary machines in the room to recognize my body. They also stuck me with a tiny needle and rubbed it with permenant ink to mark the places where they’ll aline the lasers with my body. Yes man, I got fucking tatooed for this shit, 5 random little dots. I always thought that if I one day stumbled upon a thought or idea that inspired me enough to get permenantly inked? it’d be something meaningful or special, or you know, something I fucking chose. Not a damn little period that looks like I dropped am uncapped Bic on myself — I actually keep licking my finger and rubbing them, out of habit, just thinking I’ll wipe them away. Whatever, they’re supposed to make this whole process that much more smooth once we begin anyway, so I just gotta go with the flow. Not something I’ve ever been good at doing. The first thing I do when all this is over is get these tat’s removed and throw all my radiation-worn underwear into the Hudson river. Yes, I went to H&M and bought a whole new batch just to wear for this ordeal. Some people might want to keep these things as little reminders of what they’ve been through… not my ass. I want them GONE.
As I was lying on the table this morning with my gown pulled up and my balls clamped in a protective sphere, instructed to lay still and only able to just stare up at the ceiling, a lot of heavy belated shit really just started to sink in with me. My good buddy Lori just lost her grandmother the other day and had to fly to Atlanta to help the family out with the funeral stuff. I thought about what these next few days will be like for her and how she’ll eventually move past it but every once inawhile get stabbed with this cold pain of not having her grandma here anymore… just what that’s gonna be like for her. It made me think about my spunky grandma in Texas, how she fell a few months ago at church and hasn’t really felt strong again since it happened. About how some of my closest friends seem to have backed away from me during this cancer shit, for whatever discomforted reasons, and my relationships feel so scattered these days. About how Sara at work welled up with tears when I told her why I wear a yellow bracelet (“But you’re only 25…”), how she hugged me when I told her I beat it and now she wears a bracelet to support me. About how badly I still sorta ache for somebody who doesn’t ache back for me. About how little I’ve accomlished in what I originally set out to do with myself in New York. About all the loaded things that have been happening, how months have passed and I’ve just gotten through them, but I haven’t really felt like myself in a long time.
Maybe I’m going through some post-tumor weirdness, or just anxious about starting treatment. Maybe I’m just sick of this heavy stuff on my mind. Maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of a serious headache this morning. Or maybe Melissa’s got it right, and I just I know way too much about them paper gowns lately
Yellow
July 14th, 2004
Yellow is my new favorite color.
There Are No Strings On Me
July 14th, 2004Please take a moment to check the recently updated BIO section of this here site and note the new “special skill” I’ve added to my list of features: CANCER SURVIVOR. 
Turns out we caught it in the very first realm of the very first stage, it’s so textbook easy that it’s almost laughable. No spreading, no contamination, no chemotherapy, and no need for me to freakout about losing my hair and energy. A classic case, not the least bit special or complicated in any way. For ONCE in my life, I’m thrilled to be unextraordinary and mediocre.
Still, I’m not out of the woods just yet. My prognisis finds me @ a near complete cure rate, I’ll be ok with simple observation and occassional blood tests. But I wanna play it smart, so with the support and encouragement of my doctors (I’ve got a straightup medical posse over @ St Lukes-Roosevelt, man) I’ve decided to check into this Radiation scenario. The treatment is minimal — 15 visits, low dosage, takes 20 minutes of my time afterwork and basically puts any doubt to bed forever. This was my choice, cuz I’d rather be safe than sorry and I never want to have to worry that maybe this thing is coming back for me. Also, they’ll give me kickass drugs to balance out any nausea and I’ve never played with narcotics, but this is some luxurious shit, the kind Macy Gray would be begging me for. (I’m kidding). Unlike the rest of what this process has been like, we’ll wait for a few weeks before we begin any of this. I’ve been plowing through this experience, not really taking time to digest most of it, so I could use the time to relax, recoup, and basically just take it easy. Ironically enough, all I want to do is be active now. I’m getting to the gym, I’m in the park more, I’m eating better, taking better care of my skin and teeth and everything — it’s crazy! Well ok, it’s mostly just vanity and free access to places like Allure and Crunch, but whatever. I feel like I’m becoming every damn cliche of an enlightened person who takes a new lease on life… and I fucking love it. I mean, who the hell gets diagnosed with cancer, faces down demons, undergoes a zillion tests, has a tumor removed, and begins recovery in just 2 weeks time? A luckyass punk, that’s who. Believe me, I know how lucky I am. It just feels good to know I’m ok and that, like Pinocchio would say, I got no strings to hold me down.
This is the last you’ll hear about this deep shit for awhile, b/c although it continues to be part of my life? there’s so much else happening that’s worth talking about and experiencing. Like Vh1′s I Love the 90′s, which has me laughing my ass off and screaming, “I know! I know!” Seriously, when I saw Wendy the Snapple Lady staring right back at me, just smiling away, it was like suddenly we were in 1995 again and nothing between us had changed; words cannot describe the love in my heart for that bitch.
Hey, remember that time I had cancer?
HAH!
Manhattan Loverboy
July 14th, 2004I’ve been getting so much shit in my SPAM folder from Paper Magazine this week, and up until today I had no idea why. Turns out, it wasn’t the Subscription/Billing Dept. hounding me like I thought. It was this forgotten blast from my past coming back to haunt me, via the omnipotent evil weblords over @ Gawker and Gothamist.
Just reading that shit makes me laugh my ass off, what a bittersweet refresher. I thought I took it down! I think I placed that ad once upon a bored and horny time, like 3 years ago. It was really fun cuz I was 22yrs old, single, and just starting to embrace my sense of self and learning more about this grown up world of dating and sex and new people. But I don’t remember getting flooded with responses like this last time. I think I had a few random dates through it, actually, before eventually stumbling my way into a deliciously treacherous network of Friends With Benefits — a sad and safe little world I ain’t heading back to anytime soon, no matter how hot this summer gets. [/famous last words]
Look at that picture! I’m such a tool. We’re talking like, Ryan Seacrest-smug here (my Friendster ad isn’t much better, though) and that’s just scurry. I need to go in there and delete that shit. Who the hell would answer an ad like this, and which webmasterbator made it a featured ad? It’s flattering but kind of embarassing… and a little dissappointing. I thought I was desperate for content, man.
I do like the little banner ad above my picture, though. The one for the new Polyphonic Spree album, which I just downloaded today. If I have to sit at the Loser Table, I’m happy to be kickin’ it with those fucking weirdos. God bless their radiant asses.
And I’m Feeling Good
July 9th, 2004“Is it benign?”
“But you’re gonna be ok, right?”
“They said it didn’t spread anywhere, right?”
These are questions NOT to ask somebody who’s dealing with cancer-type shit. They’re the frantic, anxious, and well-meaning worries from someone who cares a lot but they’re not questions that help anyone. Moslty b/c the answers to any of these questions could be NO, and then where are we? What matters (at least to me) right now aren’t the RESULTS of my tests or my medical reports, but how I’m feeling about all of it. If every single test comes back with an uglyass result, that’s gonna hit hard. The “I’m over it” frankness of this post is by no means directed at you guys, in fact, the support and reassurance I’m getting from everybody has been so comforting — THANK YOU! — and it’s kept me from freaking out or doubting myself. It’s just… there’s folks I told about all this shit and it was a really unstable effort cuz I’ve spent the better part of a week being annoyed with their reaction and feeling like I have to reassure them that I’ll be fine. I can’t control what the doctors find or what they tell me, you know? So I can only work with how I feel about it, and right now that’s my damn focus. Feeling good. And I DO!
Yesterday afternoon I went in for some C-scans and damn, that was an ordeal. You gotta drink this nastyass chalky white paste (NOT a milkshake that brings any boys to the yard, man) and let it coat your insides so that everything glows when they can you. I had to drink LOTS of that nastyness,and then they inject you with this liquid that warms your blood and makes stuff taste like rubbing alcohaul, for contrast. The scans were over fast and I spent most of the day flushing everything out of my system, feeling really good actually. I came home and had the best air-conditioned nap. My buddy Mishy came over later with some get-well gifts and we trekked it up to The Cloisters to enjoy the rest of the GORGEOUS day, took the puppy along.
Did I mention I named him? When I was little, my mom used to call my little G.I.Joe’s and figurines my “monitos” — my little toy men. So, I’ve named him Monito. Mo, for short. He likes it, it fits. Mishy brought him a leather dog collar from Switzerland and it fits him like a deep sea diving belt, but it’s adorable. He’s a huge hit everywhere we go. People will say the most random things to a guy holding a cute dog. One woman came running across the street at us, shreiking, and she kissed us both and told me, “God bless you both, chulitos. I believe in you.” 
That was really nice, actually. I believe in me too.
It felt good to just be out walking around (walking soft but still doing it) breathing in fresh air at sunset and just moving forward from the events of this past week. Just being outdoors reminded me that things keep growing and happening around me w/o drama; such a simple concept (and don’t worry, this isn’t me having my After School Special Moment where I realize that life really IS beautiful!) but it was the first reality I’ve embraced lately that hasn’t made me feel alone or scared. Even in all of this, I can’t help but keep seeing how fortunate I’ve been. Things have been happening around me so fast. Less than a week after I first came upon this stuff and I’ve already been diagnosed, operated on, and am working through recovery. That’s AMAZING, and it’d be so much harder to handle if I was this faceless number sitting on a long waiting list while a tumor just hardens in me. But I’m not, I’ve been blessed. HMO wasn’t a hassle, hospital staff was totally reassuring, doctors have given me total attention and call me on my cell to checkup, work has been supportive and understanding, and close friends call and drop in on me to make sure I’m smiling. Everybody’s made me a priority and I think this has been what’s kept me centered.
I’m still waiting on results, and yes things look REALLY positive and upbeat for me (they look GREAT!), but what matters is that I’m doing well. I’m holding it together okay, no huge breakdowns just yet. I’m feeling good, and thank you, Nina Simone, cuz that tune is a damn anthem up in here.
Serious As Cancer
July 5th, 2004I’ve decided to post about something else important happening in my personal life, a pretty serious matter. Some grown folks business, if you will. What the hell is happening on this blog? In my life? I definately don’t like this general dropping of my defenses and fleeting moments of total honesty, but this here site wouldn’t here half as much fun for ya’ll to read if I wasn’t being all dramatic and shit, and really, I never know who reads this stuff or actually connects to any of it. I guess it’s just important for me to talk about some things.
It seems that I’ve got cancer — a “mass” is what they’re calling it, and it’s been sitting inside me quietly for a little while now. I got hit with this just five days ago so I haven’t really had much time to think about it all yet, things are happening fast. Lots of scans and radiology and blood tests and sonograms, I’ve been learning so much stuff this week, like names and words I never thought I’d need to know or say out loud in reference to myself. Learning how my HMO works. Learning how important it is to know you’re healthy, and how unsettling it is to know you might not be. It’s weird… and scary. The kind folks @ St. Luke’s Roosevelt are putting me under tomorrow afternoon and taking this tumor out. This is the first time I’ve ever really been to the hospital, or ever been put under anesthetic, or ever been cut open, or ever faced a health scare, and it’s all really weird to suddenly be 25yrs old and dealing with such grown up changes in my life. Especially when none of them are changes that I chose. I went back and forth over whether or not to even mention this on here (most of my best friends aren’t even in the loop about it — I only found on last Wednesday) but I eventually decided that the most important thing is to talk about it. Cuz it’s my life and it’s really happening and shit man, I have no idea what I’m facing. It’s a little bit terrifying, even though they say this is “good cancer”. I don’t know how Radiation might play out, or Chemo, or whatever. Maybe none of it will, it’s absolutely possible that I may just end up putting the whole thing behind me and never dealing with it again. But it’s here right now and it’s got my thoughts pulsing and my body reacting and it’s just my reality at the moment.
I can’t believe I’m actually going to reference my life to a TV show, but remember when Samantha got cancer on Sex&theCity? how it happened out of nowhere with a strange lump and a few episodes later she was suddenly this cancer survivor? I never really caught that whole storyline, I was kind of like, “What just happened?” That’s what it feels like with this, it’s like I missed something and am in a new episode of my life. I’m not really afraid. There are people out there well into their grown up years are STILL paying back student loans b/c they spent forever going to medical school and learning how cancer works and how to fight it. I’m in good hands. I’m in God’s hands — scoff if you like but hey, it’s the truth. You just go back to what you know when you really need it, I guess, and right now I need a strength bigger than I’m capable of.
This post is fucking overworded and blabbering. I’m gonna be just fine, ya’ll. I’m small but I’m scrappy. I can take life’s heavy blows, and I have many more things to say, do, and aspire to. Some bullshit cancer stuff is not holding me down, taking my pride, oh no, gotta keep on moving and whatnot. You know how we do. Serious as cancer when I say that rythym is a dancer, and also when I ask you winners to pray for me. Say a little one for me around 2pm ok? or just close your eyes and send me what you can. I’m gonna need it.
Randy
July 1st, 2004I saw him last night. He was nervous about meeting me and I was pretty scared about it too, the last time we saw each other (over three months ago) we were both in tears. Now he’s with someone else and I’m still in love with him… so yeah, it was definitely a meeting we were both afraid of. We metup and spent a few hours in the park. It went really well, I was able to let everything in my heart out to him like I always have been able to do. From the day he walked into that hotel lobby and flashed that killer smile to the moments I was with him yesterday, Randy has been the biggest love of my life, he changed everything in my world, and he probably will always have my heart in some way… it was important for me to tell him that. There will always still be something there, at least for me. I’ll always feel lucky that I found him first and proud that he was mine, and he’ll always feel like my Randyboy. He’s a seeker and I think with each new person and experience, he learns more about who he is and who he is searching for, just like all of us. I’m able to know that at least I was special to him, not just another boy learning experience. He explained a lot of things to me yesterday, honest and genuine, and let me cry and held me and kissed me and made this whole thing a lot less hurtful this time around. I think it was something we both needed.
I could litter this post with so much more weepy shit and shove it with so many links to things that he is connected to. And I would. I boast a big game on this here site when it comes to my dating exploits, the boys and the girls and the flirting and whatnot. But the truth is, Randy was so much more to me than I could ever blog about. He’s the one thing I rarely spoke so openly and honestly about, b/c he struck something special inside of me. He made grand pianos crash together and my heart went giddyup every single time (he knows what that means). I’m not sure where he’s off to next in life, but I know I’ll always feel close to him whether or not we’re part of each others destinations. He will always sort of feel like Home to me.
Anyway, I feel better now. For real this time. This aching has held me BOUND for so long. You have no idea. But I’m trying to begin looking forward, I have to. No going back to an old Me, though. I’ve learned too much through this, so I’m shooting for a new one.