What Kind of Person...

What kind of person goes to a party where there will be guaranteed sexual activity in the pool, jacuzzi, steam room and sauna, (not to mention the locker room and bathroom facilities)? Well me of course, but my question was meant to be a little more general and little less specific!

My answer to this question would be emotional unavailable gay men who are looking for other unapologetic homosexuals that share a love for at least two of the following: uninhibited sexuality, recreational drug-use, binge drinking, water-sports of any kind, or the refreshing smell of chlorine. Although it would be impossible to place all these mo’s in a general category, I find their motives to be quite obvious and generalized.

Just like myself, many gay men in NYC find it blasphemous to not partake in the unique and exciting opportunities and experiences that the greatest city in this country offers us. I don’t believe it has anything to do with morality, but rather everything to do with a person’s individual ideology. I believe it’s very important to have as much fun as possible without becoming hazardous to others around you, and my value system places having fun with friends paramount to anything else.

This post seems a bit like I’m trying to rationalize my attendance at this party, but rather it is meant to further explore where I fit in this world, and more specifically in this city. Sometime I feel like I’m on a prolonged vacation, and – in the case of this weekend – the Spring Break I never had. One of my jaded personalities hasn’t quite found it’s niche on this island, and sometimes it makes me feel like just another ordinary transplant. I seem to be continually searching for new portals into a life that may never be mine, stuck on the same level, with other players constantly passing me on the way to beating this game of life.

Should I come to terms with the fact that all that I may ever be is a city boy who conjured up enough ambitious energy to escape the country and is only good at having a good time with friends in both unusual and ordinary ways? Should I accept the fact that I may never be wildly successful or definitively great in the eyes of the world-at-large? I’m not sure, but I have hope that there is a happy-medium; where the extraordinary meets the pleasantly ordinary, where the rich meets the intriguingly economical, where gorgeous meets strangely beautiful, and where exciting meets incredibly lame!

At the end of the day, I think it’s less about gaping the differences between what I am and what I want to be and more about my lack of interest in becoming a grown-up anytime soon. I’m currently rebelling against society’s idea that everyone should start growing up after being in the real world for a few years, whatever the “real world” is.

So until the day I wake up and feel the need (and ability) to change my lifestyle and take on the role of grown-up, bring on the smell of chlorine!

Getting the Ball Rolling

It’s a common idiom in the English language meaning to start something so that it can start making progress, but it’s a foolish thing to do if you’re not ready for what happens after that monumental first push. Although getting the ball rolling is never easy, I believe the most difficult part of the ballgame is keeping the ball rolling and coping with the kinetic energy involved.

I’ll cut to the chase. I want a new job! And if I could afford a therapist, he or she would say I NEED one as well. But there is a problem. I’m a lazy-ass mother fucker that may never think of work as anything other than a J-O-B, a chore, something that keeps me from doing absolutely nothing (which I’m so good at). Some might argue that I have way too much to offer to be so slothful, but it’s hard to find ambition when you have no clue as to what you want your professional future to hold.

Hopefully the ball-and-chain which is my current J-O-B will not continue to take as much toll on my spirit as it has in the past six months. It’s obvious that I have to figure some stuff out, and I’m not sure what the best way to do that is. But for now I’ll try and keep the ball rolling, not knowing the exact direction it’s headed in or what it’s going to take to get it to its destination.

For now I will keep living life as loudly as possible and drinking as much alcohol as needed to make it bearable.

How Long Is a Writer’s Block?

A block is an informal unit of distance popular in the U.S. To an engineer, a block is the average distance between street intersections in the rectangular grid system used in most American cities. To a writer, a block is a devastating phenomenon involving temporary loss of ability to continue writing, usually due to lack of inspiration or creativity.

This is my excuse for not having posted a blog in WAY TOO LONG. And I figure if I’m lacking inspiration and creativity, at least I can write about that! But before getting started, I had to reference Wikipedia for further insight into this phenomenon. Here’s some information I found regarding the origins of this crippling disease I’ve been infected with.

Writer's Block can be closely related to depression and anxiety, two disorders that reflect environmentally-caused or spontaneous changes in the brain's frontal lobe.

Depression and anxiety: CHECK!

Some people would suggest that many working-class writers are sometimes unable to devote themselves to, or concentrate on, their writing because their social and economic circumstances prevent them from doing so.

Less-than-ideal social & economic circumstances: CHECK!

It is widely thought that writer's block is simply part of a natural ebb and flow in the creative process. Author Justina Headley explains in keynote speeches that for her it comes from losing touch with the characters about whom she is writing, and that by discovering who they are again the block disintegrates.

Losing touch with myself and the characters around me: CHECK!

Although there are many excuses for this phenomenon I’m experiencing, I’ve never thought it could develop into a chronic problem.

But there have been cases where writer's block has lasted for years or decades. The most notable example of this in modern literary history was Henry Roth's writer's block which persisted for sixty years and was caused by a combination of depression, political problems, and an unwillingness to confront past problems. This kind of writer's block seems to be quite rare, and most writer's block lasts between an hour and a week.

So, sometimes you have to endure a long block (900ft in Manhattan) and sometimes you only have to walk a short one (only 264ft). I guess the point here is that all blocks come to an end. Interestingly enough, the time between the end of one block and the beginning of another is a dangerous time filled with oncoming traffic and other mentally-disturbed pedestrians. These intersecting forces, which can be thought to conjure up inspiration and creativity, are all that are standing in your way of another trying block.

And don't think for a second that just because I was able to put together this posting means my block is anywhere close to being over. But that's just me being the cynical writer that I am, or am aspiring to be.

P.S. The screen-capture at the top of this post is supposedly of my block (per Google Maps), but I find it interesting that my building seemingly isn't on there (don't be fooled by the green arrow). Just what I need, something else that makes me question my existence!!