Tomorrow's Erections

I think the world will breathe a collective sigh of relief tomorrow when the outrageous shenanigans that have been this year's election cycle are finally laid to rest. Any one else feel like tomorrow is a culmination of a series of flaccid erections versus the day nationwide voting happens? I for one am just over it: No matter what happens tomorrow, we still have to wake up on Wednesday as human beings on this earth together. If this election has done nothing more, it truly has divided us as a country, as people, and as a planet.

As a world leader and often seen as the world bully, Americans don't often get to see how we are portrayed and viewed as by the rest of the world. Here in Costa Rica everyone keeps asking me who I voted for. When I was in Europe this summer, it was often a topic of conversation: who will be the next president?

Why do these countries and people care so much about who leads us? Because we so often lead them. The actions of the United States often have direct results thrust upon the rest of the world- whether they like it or not. It is important to remember that whomever we elect will be the sole person on this planet with the ability to anihilate an entire nation off this planet with nuclear weapons. It's important to remember the tone and the rhetoric that the president uses and how words can influence us. And it's important to not forget that our work only really truly begins on November 9.

I mean I will not be moving to Canada as a result of a Trump victory because there will be no Trump victory. Even if there was, what kind of American would I be to just cut and run without staying to fight for what is right? For those threatening the same if Hillary wins, don't you think it's better to stay and hold her/him accountable for their actions?

Again, I won't be going anywhere this January. Not because my candidate will win, because he won't. The DNC, the media, and many outlets in between long ago sabotaged Bernie Sanders from becomming president. Something I will never understand and never condone: what they did in my mind is just shy of treason. They lied, cheated, and stole the election--then got caught doing it. So no, for the first time this election series I guess I can finally admit it: Bernie is not going to be our president. Which is sad and tragic. Bernie is scandal free. His rallies saw attendance records that the likes of Lincoln and Martin Luther King Jr never saw. He raised more money than anyone else's by individual donations from everyday people. He galvanized an entire generation. Today even, Bernie Sanders sits at a 91% approval rating: nearly 40 points higher than any other single politician in Washington. So basically that line about him not being able to win is and always was total garbage and vitriol to guarantee he "failed".

But you see, Bernie didn't fail. As I said before, I'm still here and will be here November 9. The political revolution that Bernie served as a figure head of is still alive and well: just last week we took down a pharmaceutical company that was jacking up prices of life saving medicine to low income families all while making record breaking billion dollar profits. This is not because of Bernie: this is because Bernie's campaign galvanized the nation: good and bad, and awoke sleeping giants in a lot of us not wanting to accept the status quo.

And his political revolution will continue onward under President Hillary Clinton. Not because she really wants to adopt the FEEL THE BERN platform, but because there are those of us willing to hold her to her word and accountable.
IT IS OUR RIGHT, no, OUR DUTY TO CHALLENGE OUR ELECTED OFFICALS, CALL THEM OUT WHEN THEY HAVE DONE WRONG, AND HOLD THEM TO KEEP THE PROMISES THEY MADE ON THE CAMPAIGN TRAIL.I plan on doing this and more under the first woman president, because it shouldn't matter if our leader has a vagina or not: they should be subject to the same scrutiny as anyone else.

I am asking that everyone goes and votes tomorrow, though, too. The best way to change our country is by the power of the pen, be it with words or filling in that oval. I'm not going to tell you WHO to vote for. Believe it or not, as a Green/Democratic Socialist, I can see reasons why people are voting for Trump. I can. He represents change and an anti-Washington appeal to so many people. He talks a big game and doesn't shy away from anything. I think all three of these things are positive attributes to the man, whether it's done behind a screen of bigotry and hate rhetoric or not. I can also see why voting for Trump means voting against Hillary. Let's face facts: the main two reasons that someone like Trump is even this close to the White House is a, because of the media, but b, because half of this country do not like nor trust Hillary Clinton.

I am one of those people. I used to like her. I voted for her in 2008 and still partially view her as the far more qualified candidate to run the office than Barack Obama. But now, not so much. Take her resume and give it to anyone else on the planet and they would have been a shoe-in for the White House. But this lady, shadowed by scandal for most of the last 25 years, can't seem to shake off her negative attributes enough to make folks want to be excited for her as president. I mean, how many of us are voting for her as a vote against Trump?

Again, I won't tell you who to vote for. You can blaim the Bush administration on my 2000 election Nader voting. I'll take that heat, tho I don't deserve it. Every four years the media loves to squash third party candidates without giving them any airtime or support. Beaucage three is harder to control than 2. That's just simple math. That's the logic that made Bernie the ultimate target of sabatoge. This is the same thinking that blaims us third party voters for the Bush years without ever holding the democrats accountable for, gee, the most boring and dullest candidate ever or holding the Clinton's responsibile for gaining the country's mistrust as a result of a series of lies and scandals that lead voters away from Al Gore in the first place. But what if I don't want to live in an oligarchy anymore? What if I want to vote for Jill's stein versus the two least liked candidates to probably ever run for office?

I am proud of my voting history, and I think that should be an important deciding factor: how will you feel about your vote in 20 years time? My first election, as I stated, I voted Nader. I begrudgingly voted for Kerry in 2004 because I drank the koolaid and had the anti-third party trash talking shoved down my throat so hard that I didn't want to be treated like I personally fucked the country over again. In 2008 I voted Hillary in the primary and then Obama in the general, despite a massive amount of hesitation. Backpeddling on a campaign promise, 2009-2011 saw more raiding of our medicinal marijuana pharmacies than any president before him and 2011 and 2012 saw more deportations of people and more droning and slaughtering of civilians at the hand of our president than ever before. These and other issues I have with him lead me to vote for Jill Stein in 2012. A decision I stand by today.

Up until last week, I really was one of the undecided ones. "God how could you be so stupid?" "There really is only one choice" and "Only idiots would think there are two options" are some of the lovely comments I received from FELLOW DEMOCRATS upon learning that I wasn't just going to pretend that Bernie wasn't completely robbed, my rights and election violated, and that I wasn't just going to bow down and annoint their queen as head of state. But also I could never vote for Trump in good conscience. EVER. So what was a socialist liberal to do in this instance? How did I vote in the 2016 election?

I VOTED WITH MY CONSCIENCE.

For over a year, Bernie Sanders proved to me to be the best fit, least scandalous, most aligned in my beliefs candidate that I have probably ever witnessed in my lifetime. I worked directly for his campaign and spent hours of my time and energy devoted to bringing about the most progressive platform ever witnessed in this country. So I voted for him. In 2016, I placed my vote for President of the United States of America for a qualified candidate:

BERNARD SANDERS and TULSI GABBARD for Vice President.

Was this the best excercising of my rights? I think so. I know I'll look back 20 years and be content and proud of my decision. But do I want the same for you? Not necessarily...

As I keep saying: I'm not here to tell you how to vote other than to say to vote your conscience. We DO HAVE MORE THAN TWO CHOICES, so choose wisely Dr. Jones.

Just because the candidate you pick won't win on Tuesday doesn't mean the Green Party couldn't use more votes: it can. Just because I wrote in Bernie for president does not mean it was a "wasted vote". Just because you don't like any of the candidates doesn't mean you don't have other options. Obviously I don't want Trump to win. He signifies everything that is wrong with this country. I truly hope Hillary Clinton does best Trump. The glass ceiling does need to be shattered, even if I think she is the wrong person to do it. I did not vote for her, but despite her scandals and everything wrong with her, I would take a Hillary Clinton candidacy over his any day. So I guess in that sense, in opposition to Donald Trump, for the first time this campaign circle, I guess #Imwithher when it comes to defeating Trump, but really, #IMWITHUS.

I'm with America. My vote matters up until Tuesday night. Then it is my voice, my work, the efforts I put in, and how I treat people in this world that really truly matters. So come wednesday, let's dust off the anger and anxiety and get to work making our country an even better place than it already is and put stock into a future we can believe in.

Top 2 Bottom?

I've had this thought and question in my head for years, but now I'm wanting to hear opinions from all of my gays out there in TV land:

Let's say, when in regards to sex, that you distinctly prefer one sexual position in the bedroom-- i.e. bottoming versus topping. But then you meet someone, like the man of your dreams, who happens to also prefer the sexual role that you do...what do you do?

In the world of gay sex, we actually have the most amount of options available to the human race as anyone: we can be submissive, we can be assertive. We can be the receptive role or the subjector. The masculine or the feminine. However: don't most gay men have a preference? Isn't it true that one act "gets us off" more so than others?

I live in West Hollywood. It is often said of Los Angeles that we live in a city swimming with bottoms. In some instances, I believe this to be true. Underneath all the sunkissed, glistened muscle that predominates this metropolis, there are a lot of "nelly" bottoms running around. There are also a lot of masculine, ripped, machismo bottoms. As a versatile man, my options for getting leid certainly increase within the City of Angels if I take on the more dominate, "top daddy" role as I like to call it. Yet, I remain perplexed as to why this is the situation and stigma specifically attached to LA. It's no question of a doubt that the G spot is in the rectum, so obviously one can understand why men enjoy its stimulation. Meanwhile, the tip and crown of the penis provide just as much sensation for me as something inserted inside me, so I have an often difficult time distinguishing between which one feels better and which role I particularly prefer. I tend to gravitate towards men who are also versatile because I am turned on by serving in both roles and love men that can take on both the submissive and dominate roles.

So, in my way of thinking, I can't understand why more gay men aren't versatile. As the sex-obsessed beings that we can often be, one would think being "open" to all possibilities when it comes to anal sex would just increase our likeliness of getting it, correct? Which brings me back to my original thought: if the man of your dreams walks through the door, are you going to turn him away because he only likes to bottom? Or top?

In the end what I am realizing is the reason why so many of my gay friends who are currently in relationships have open ones: maybe there is just no way for gay men to be completely sexually fulfilled. Maybe the man of your dreams does exist, but the men who are able to fulfill all of your sexual needs are outside of your relationship? And if we do decide to be in open relationships, is there any underlining emotion or connection to those that we are hooking up with to fill a sexual need? Is it unreasonable to think that someone that can sexually stimulate us might also provide us with a connection deeper than a thrusting penis? Maybe the truth in relationships is you can love someone with all your heart and love everything about them, but still mightn't be entirely sexually fulfilled. This idea opens up a whole new Pandora's box of questions, mostly this one: is anyone in a relationship actually 100% sexually satisfied?

I've concluded that I'm just going to keep cooking, booking, being myself and am going to go back to doing what I did before: not thinking about what everyone else does in the bedroom.

The smallest person can change the world

A lot happened while I was away in Europe. I conquered the capitals of three nations and they also conquered me. The trip of a lifetime was exactly what I needed: culture, adventure, a little relaxation, and a lot of amazing memories.

One of my least favourite moments turned into one of my favourite experiences of the trip and I thought I would share it here:

Flash back to Mykonos a few days ago. Everyone said that my friends and I MUST go see the sunset drag show at the Elisium hotel.

For two days we missed seeing this spectacle, so come the third day, we were hell bound in making an appearance. My friends left early and I arrived right when it started. Immediately I could tell that this drag queen was dealing with a stiff audience and dragging the bottom of the barrel to get any of us to laugh or seem into her show.

It began slowly and cautiously, but then this drag queen really started in on basing all of her jokes on put-downs for people. We half giggled under our breath for support, but then when she made a "black people" joke whilst I was sitting next to my brother from another mother who happens to be African American, I had had enough. Especially in the wake of the worst racial tensions going on back home in America since the 1960s.

I looked over at my friend to see that he was keeping his composure, as usual, and simply rolled his eyes at her and her racial insensitivity--this was all too familiar rhetoric that he had heard before. But it wasn't until the queen asked our group where we were from that I just lost it. She made us repeat several times at full voice that we were Angelenos and then several more times that we were from West Hollywood. Then tragedy really struck: that bitch ordered her actually-talented co-host to drag my friend and I onto the stage.

When she realized my friend's skin tone, she immediately began making jokes about his penis size while simultaneously making jokes about me being a hobbit and too small to be "of service."

"No one cares about you Frodo." She said several times, obviously more concerned with what she again racially insensitively assumed was my friend's package size, while all the while berating me. Finally, the bitchy American Angeleno kicked in and I lost it. I grabbed the microphone from the drag queen and told the audience:

"I don't even know why we are up here."

She was not having that. She gave us a tequila shot and pretty much threw both of us off of her stage, irritated that we weren't willing to play along with her insults. When I walked away, I did feel a ping of regret: I love drag queens. Several friends of mine have done drag throughout the years, so I know the hours and hours of extreme dedication and work that it takes to not only make yourself up into a woman, but also have the courage and the tenacity to put on a show and perform in front of a group of strangers. (I too have been a performer of and on throughout different stages of my life.)

And what I thought was going to be a funny little session at the "library" getting "read" by a true New York drag queen, we were instead the subject of her mockery as she fished for any way to salvage her sinking ship of a show. I walked away from that stage feeling over it, annoyed, and kind of pissed at myself that I reared the ugly head of my inner bitchy American in front of an audience of potential future sexual conquests. (What? This was Mykonos!)

Hours later at the club, I nearly had forgotten the verbal persecution my friend and I had encountered earlier by this man in a dress. That is until this nice Irish fellow stopped me outside the Loo and said to me:

"You're the American at the drag show."

"Oh jeez," I replied. "I'm really not normally that much of a cunt. I'm actually a pretty nice guy. I just couldn't take her insults over and over again and lost it when she made that black joke against my friend."

"It's ok," he said. "I would have done the same too. We were all wondering why she had dragged you, pun intended, onto that stage in the first place."

"Well," I said, "I doubt you would have been as bitchy as I was, and I am embarrassed that everyone had to see me like that, to be honest. Again I'm a really nice guy for the most part. I just could not take her calling me Frodo Baggins anymore. It's like she didn't give a shit about me the second she saw how short I am and I already deal with enough stigma as it is from within the gay community for my height."

The Irishman just shook his head and smiled at me. I could tell he was a little tipsy, but he smiled and looked at me dead in the eyes. Then he pointed his pointer finger and tapped it into my sternum.

"You know what? You are Frodo Baggins."

I brushed his hand away from me and rolled my eyes.

"No, I'm serious," he continued. "You might be a small guy, but you are Frodo Baggins. You are going to change the world. I can tell."

I just kept shaking my head.

"Man, I'm really serious. Just by looking at you, I can tell. The world would have been destroyed without Frodo Baggins. He might have been small, but he changed the fucking world, man. Saved everyone, man. You are Frodo Baggins. You really ARE going to change the world. I can't wait to see it happen."

Then he walked away. I yelled to him that he was sweet, but I don't think he heard me. I turned to look into the mirror above the sink. I saw my own reflection--really saw it-- for the first time in a long time that night.

Whether it was the fact that I too was tipsy or just moved by his compliments, either way; I started to cry a bit. I have always wanted to be something bigger than myself, pun intended, and maybe this Irishman was right. Maybe I am Frodo Baggins. Sometimes the smallest person can change the course of the further. I put my hands on the sink's edge and leaned in to look at the mirror and really size myself up.

"Maybe I am Frodo Baggins," I said aloud. Then I laughed and wiped the tears from my eyes. I took a deep breath and had one of the most sincere moments of clarity of my life. Luckily for me, I've known for a while what my self-proposed purpose is on this planet: I am a writer and I want to share my words and my experiences with the world.

But I am also an activist. I have never been able to lay down and just take the terrible injustices of the world. I have never been able to just sit complacent while the world passed me by. I want to leave this world a better place than how I found it.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the Irishman was and is right: I am Frodo Baggins. I am going to change the world. I know, I know--this sounds crazy coming from a gay, 5'6" man with no previous experience at being Superman. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try.

We have a lot of problems in this world: injustices, murders, terrorism, poverty, starvation, and wars. But there is also a lot of light. At a time when I didn't realize I needed it, that Irishman saw the light inside of me and helped me rekindle it. Reminded me of who I am and what I came here for.

I'll never run for president nor probably elected official, but I will always have a voice. I'll always have my trusted steed at my side of a pen that will beat the sword any day. I have compassion and a hope for this planet. And I have a love in me greater than the depths of the Grand Canyon. None of these make me any more or any less special than anyone else. But they do give me strength to stand against the hated of this world, rise above, and continue to try to make it a better place.

I will always remember that drag show and the Irishman who showed this hobbit that we all are here for a reason. We all have a purpose. And all of us, in our own way, can and will change the world.

It's time this Frodo Baggins began.



(THIS WAS NOT THE DRAG QUEEN IN THE STORY, FYI)

#Slacktivist

When Prop 8 happened the same night we elected our first black president, we were all shocked. "This is California: land of medical marijuana and hippies! How did this happen here?" How did it happen here? By less than 300,000 votes. Prop 8 passed by 52% of the vote. Many many folks said it passed because of the wording: NO on prop 8 meant YES for marriage equality. But I knew what had really happened: we got complacent. Sure I voted because I always vote and feel it is my duty as an American to do my part. But I didn't encourage my friends. Several gay friends in my circle weren't even registered, let alone voted. When Proposition 8 passed as the single most expensive bit of legislation in US history, I was angry as hell. Angry at my state, angry at my country, but really just angry at myself that I didn't do anything to stop it.


The day Californians enshrined bigotry into their constitution on November 8, 2008 was also a day that changed my life forever. I woke up. I was a product of harassment and ill treatment due to being gay growing up in the Midwest. I had been treated like a second class citizen, and here was my adopted state guaranteeing that the world knew that we thought all lgbt people were second class. But that election night, a fire grew in my belly as I watched No on Prop 8 slip between our fingers. Finally, I snapped. Electing Barack Obama wasn't enough.

And the sleeping dragon woke up. I was not going to take this shit any longer. "We are people, too, goddamnit!" I thought and began a quest that I still continue today. I attended nearly every protest rally, every sit in, and every street closure in Los Angeles for the weeks and months following Proposition 8's passing. We marched down the middle of Santa Monica Blvd on November 9 from West Hollywood all the way to Westwood to the Morman Temple and back in tens of thousands. In later months I attended the Meet in the Middle rally in Fresno for CA LGBT leaders to meet, discuss the future, and show middle America Californians that we were there and not going away.

Months after that, I flew to Washington, DC to march in the National Equality March. 500,000 people: families, straight allies, Latinos, Asians, immigrants, whites, African Americans, children etc marched from the White House to the Capital where a massive rally was held. We were there to be seen but really only wanted what everyone else wanted: to be treated equally. I left DC with hope in my heart: 49 other states and their citizens were also not going to take what happened in California lying down. "We're here for you," people said with accents from other states proudly wearing FUCK Prop 8 shirts. And they meant it. Prop 8 had lit a fire under all of our asses with the haunting idea looming over our heads: if it can happen in Cali, it can happen anywhere.

In hindsight, I'm glad Proposition 8 happened here. Had it not passed, I don't think the rest of the LGBT rights movement would have caught fire as easily. I told myself that I wouldn't allow another state on my watch to "go down" without a fight. So I started doing what I could. Every state with similar measures began receiving phone calls from me to their elected officials. I phone banked voters in Illinois, Missouri, Maine, Minnesota, Washington, and Maryland. I phoned senators and representatives in 11 further states. I befriended pro/"our side" representatives and did what I could to help their field offices spread the word about LGBT equality. I began fervently posting the updates of these states to my social media, and really started my own personal crusade to make this country better. And it worked.



Illinois defeated their marriage ban by 3 votes. Later, their house passed a measure approved by their senate, and Illinois because one of the first states to adopt marriage equality to their constitution via their legislature. In Washington, Maryland, and Maine, the people passed LGBT marriage rights legislation and it was the first time the people had voted for marriage equality in the world and passed. Soon a marriage ban was collapsing per week in each state. A few years later, 70 percent of this country had marriage equality. And when the Supreme Court finally struck down Proposition 8, we knew it would only be a little more time before these opinions swept over the nation.

And I never looked back. I don't want to be a politician. I don't really want the responsibility of being a community organizer. But I am a proud and able bodied American. I love my country and am blessed to live here and be from here with its advantages. So I will, as long as I still have life and breath in me, continue to fight the good fight and for what's right. I won't stand by as HIV/AIDS is still a crisis without doing anything. I won't let planned parenthood get stripped of its funding. I want equal pay for women and for women to stop being treated like second class citizens. Not on my watch, honey! I won't stand by as transgender people are butchered monthly and murdered. I won't stand by as Black people and minorities are not only being taunted, harassed, and murdered by the police, but are also having their lives ruined through our failed penitentiary system. I won't stand by as cancer continues to be such a devastating killer in this country. And finally, I won't sit on my laurels when we have the candidate of a lifetime whose honesty and integrity have given myself and the millions of other folks that he has inspired HOPE that this country so desperately needs while HE and the movement needs all of our help to get elected.



This election and the Bernie movement is exactly that: a political revolution. It's not about Bernie: it's about this Missouri born California boy sick of it and I'm not willing to take it anymore. Healthcare is a right. Women should be paid equally. Marijuana should be legal. LGBT should be able to lead normal lives. Campaign financing does need reforming. Universities need to stop being businesses that drown our future generations in debt. This is why I am for Bernie and will do what I can to get him elected. It frankly isn't even about Bernie Sanders the man: it is about the idea that if we stand together and demand change, we can and will achieve it.

I am not a perfect person: totally self involved and often selfish, but I know in my heart what is the right way to act and that if I am able bodied, I too can contribute something. Be it in my own way from my own living room dancing in my underwear or not.



#slacktivist

Spread the love, not the H8!

Last night after dinner, my mother and I walked out of the restaurant and towards my car. Two gay guys, one of which I recognize from the kickball community, watched my mother and I from within the restaurant as we reached our car. I didn't notice until I got into the driver's seat that the two guys were pointing at and laughing at my obese mother: struggling with her cane to walk and then struggling to get into the car. I brushed it off and looked away, but as my mother tried to slowly shift her more than 300lbs weight and step down into my tiny Smart Car, I could see the guys really hooping, hollering, pointing, and getting a kick out of very blatantly laughing and making fun of my mother: a fat person struggling to shove herself into my minuscule clown car. 

This experience broke my heart. Maybe because I didn't do anything or say anything. Maybe because I felt too weak to just go in and beat the fuck out of them for disgracing my mama lioness. But probably more so that people can just be so very cruel. 

My mom never even noticed. Not the guys making fun of her or her son silently crying to himself on the way home. At this point, she still doesn't know that she was just made a public mockery by two guys at Swingers. I thought horrible thoughts on the drive home questioning myself as to what I could have done differently to have avoided this situation: if I drove a bigger car, maybe they wouldn't have noticed. If I would have been there more for my mom versus galavanting all over the world in the past,  maybe she wouldn't have been so depressed to have digressed to this state of her health. But neither were actually the case...

I know the two aren't correlated and--unlike Paris in which I lived and still have friends and family there--I really have no personal connection to the atrocities in Belgium (other than the heartbreak and sorrow I feel for those involved)...but I did get a very sick feeling in my stomach that yesterday the world was mourning over another senseless act of violence while these two jackass, assholes worlds away also lacked compassion or human connection so much that they didn't see anything wrong with not trying to be better people yesterday.

I moved my mother out to Cali because I want to help her live better. I want to see her get healthier and live the longest life she can possibly live. And I want to see her happier. So far, I believe it's working. And a woman who was so set in her ways and comfortable has stepped off of the proverbial cliff and into an abyss of change that is Los Angeles. Am I proud of my mom? Yes. At 64, change isn't easy. Neither is heartache. But this is a person trying to change her life and trying to live better. So shouldn't that be applauded versus ridiculed? Then again, as I say in my first book: "you never really know someone until you've walked a kilometer in their stilettos..."

Obviously this whole situation of the guys mocking my mum is still bothering me or I wouldn't put it out there publicly, but I want to turn this situation into a good one. I get that my mom is overweight and morbidly obese. I get that she did this to herself. But does this make her ugly or something so less of a person that she should be treated with nothing but ridicule? Aren't we as human beings better than this shit?

I would never say that I am innocent of mocking people and joking around with people. I too have been called a mean girl. But I don't ever want to be like that again. The reality is people point at and make fun of the weaknesses of other people that they see in themselves. And until it happens to you, it is difficult to see just how awfully put downs and words/actions of negativity hurt. In a day and age where reckless hate and killing has become so rampant, isn't it so much easier to stop the h8 and spread some love? Maybe I'm just a softy. Maybe I'm just a dreamer. But I can't be the only one.

Call your mom today. Tell her you love her. Call the people near and dear to you today. Reach out. Find joy in small things and experiences and trumpet them verses bringing yourself and people around you down. I'm going to do the same. A little love can go a very long way in changing the world. And remember that this life is so fucking short. So do it today: it might be your last. 

ALL MY LUV!