The power of Prayer

I am not a religious person, but I would consider myself very spiritual. I believe in love and the energy surrounding love. Energy is very powerful and I have seen first hand what the power of positive thinking can do for people and bring to people.

Recently I came home from a holiday to find my ferret, Xavier Montague Tudor Paco Ferret I, near death: his body temperature was so low that he almost died. Xavier is an older ferret--they only live to be between five and eight years old. He also suffers from Insulinoma, a ferret-like diabetes, and lymphoma-- a cancer of the ferret lymph nodes. He also has developed arthritis, which has made it harder for him to get around and play, as of late. So it is no surprise to me that my little X is nearing the end of his life at age 6 and with all of these health problems. But he is also a fighter, like his father, and neither of us were ready to let go.



I knew that Xavier needed immediate medical attention, which I got him, but realized that his little life was hanging on by a thread. I admitted him into the ICU overnight for two nights, and I cannot tell you how devastated I was to come home to an empty house for the first time in 5 years. I didn't know what to do. I was distraught, upset, depressed, begged God not to take him too soon from me.

I cried so hard at the possibility of losing him. Sure, he is just a small little mammal, and as one person said cruelly: "He is not a person, he is just a ferret." But Xavier is more than just a pet. He is family. Those 100 people that have met him can attest to the fact that Xavier is like a little person with a big personality. He is clever, funny, wise, and mischievous. He knows his name and comes when I call him. He knows not to do something when told "no" by me--that is until I have turned my back. He kisses your face, licks the tears away when you are sad, and loves drinking water straight from my sink. A picky eater, X only eats Cheerios, almonds, and Cheez-its when it comes to eating anything other than his kibbles--which he prefers to be stale for several days. Like a cat, he hates baths, but like a puppy/kitten he loves to play, even in his old age. When he isn't going through your stuff, he is stealing your socks and making a nest for himself to sleep in under my couch out of this loot.

The day I got him back from the ICU was awful. He hated his 6 medicines a day and was literally vomiting the medicines I was trying to force feed him all over me. He was puking so much that the stomach acid was causing the roof of his mouth to burn. Being a ferret, he didn't understand the pain, so he began scratching at his mouth and gums with his claws until he began to bleed. Soon, the front of my shirt was covered in ferret vomit and blood. But all I could do was hold him tight, cry, and pray to God that he made it through the night.

So I did the only thing I could think to do, which was reach out to people. I asked for prayers and good energy to help ensure a recovery for Xavier. So I reached out to you, in TV/Interwebsland, and asked for prayers for Xavier. It may sound silly, but I think about all of my friends and the people that have met Xavier, and they probably number at least 100 people whose lives Xavier has touched in the nearly 5 1/2 years he has called me his.

And, remarkably, it worked. It turns out that X had an ulcer that he nearly died from, but one that wasn't so bad that he couldn't survive it. But the positive energy and well wishes I received not only help put me in better spirits, I really truly believe that it helped guarantee that Xavier lived.

I know that I will not have Xavier forever. But to really see how much he is loved and the people who reached out concerned for him was so beautiful that words cannot express my gratitude. I have seen first hand the power and abilities that prayer and good energy can have. The well wishes and love are what helped keep my baby around a little longer.

Now, over two weeks later, X is no longer on 6 medicines a day. He is able to walk around my place again on his own, eat on his own, and is back to being his normal mischievous self again.

We both cannot thank you enough for the outpouring of love and prayers. They seriously made such a difference in his recovery.

All my luv to you all.

Sorah the Explorer

Sorah the Explorah

"Oh my god- I love you!"

That was the first thing I can remember Sorah Lee ever saying to me. I'm pretty sure it was immediately after handing her a shot of something delicious and alcoholic before I had even gotten her first name. I blushed, not knowing how to respond to my new co-worker behind the bar's affections.

"Aw, thanks. I love you, too!" Is how I responded to this virtual stranger before m.

We giggled at our new-found friendship, and it was then that I first heard the infectious, boisterous laugh that Sorah could have trademarked, bottled, and sold in stores--it was that magical, that charming, and that endearing.

We clinked our glasses together and tossed one back in celebration of whatever event we were working that night and to-- little did we know at the time-- a friendship of five years and a connection with someone that I've never, ever felt with another person. Maybe because there will never be anyone like her again.

Sorah was an explorer. Sorah was an adventurer. She was someone--nay, perhaps the only one--who understood my extreme case of wanderlust, just as I understood her wanderlusty disposition in return. The two of us were always looking for an adventure. Always looking for a new country to visit and a cheap vacay to snatch up before they were gone. Every Wednesday when travel deals come into my email, I would scour through the amazing adventures and experiences all over the world. When I found a bargain journey that wasn't too outrageous but that seemed like a "me and Sorah fit," I would excitedly share the details with her. Most people would look at the specials and say "3 nights in a naturally heated lagoon watching Aurora Borealis at night in Iceland? No thank you!" Or: "Riding as a passenger in a cargo ship just to get to Cuba? Ridiculous!"

Sorah, on the other hand, lived for life's miscellaneous opportunities. I can just hear her now:

"Copenhagen round trip for $543?! That's crazy. I had no previous desire to go to Denmark, but for that cheap, we should just buy them! Now! $1390 for a 10 night camel escorted trip to Morocco? I'm so down! Thailand hit on the beach for $5 a night? F%}^ yeah!!!"

We really should have just bought those silly tickets--whatever they were and to whereever far away land that had suddenly become more accessible to us. But we didn't. And now there are no more travel opportunities for Sorah the Explorer and Koelen Wanderlust. It breaks my heart to think of the "what ifs" and "if onlys" that she and I could have undertaken together. What hurts the most is knowing that my fellow culture aficionado and my travel buddy has taken her last trip without me--And we will never be able to actually go on any of the crazy adventures we so dreamed about. Now that she is gone, I'm terribly sad thinking about all of the places we wanted to go to but no longer can venture to together.

It's difficult to accept that someone like Sorah is gone when they are taken from us too soon. Death is never easy, but losing someone as magnificent as Sorah Lee is truly a devastating loss to all of humanity. She was like a beautiful flower that was always in full bloom all year long. Her personality was warm and hilarious--she never missed a beat with her devilish wit or cheeky sense of humor. Probably because she was one of the smartest people I have ever met. She was well read and well traveled, but Sorah was also what I would call well-peopled. She loved everyone from all walks of life, loved exploring new cultures, and loved making new friends all over the world. Like the colonial British Empire before her, the sun never sets on the vast network of Sorah's family all over the world.

Her zest for life was so infectious that people just wanted to be around her, like I did. Sure she was open, kind, and intelligent, but I feel what really drew people into her was this aurora and energy that she had that can never be substituted or replaced.
She was a stalwart friend and a fierce ally who always concerned herself with what was going on in your life. Sorah loved people and was always invested in their lives. She was proactive and championed equality for everyone including supporting myself and lgbt rights in her home state of Oklahoma and in the US.

Sorah had insisted nearly every time that my mother visited California that she wanted to meet the matriarch of my family. One of our last times hanging out ever, as it turns out, was a lunch on the boardwalk in Venice just so Sorah had the chance to meet my mother. We stopped and inhaled vapors at an all vapor bar after we ate--something none of the three of us wanderlusters had ever experienced before. Upon saying goodbye, Sorah leaned in to my mother to give her a big hug.

"It was so great to finally meet you," Sorah said to my mom, as if the two of them had been pen pals for years before finally arranging a meeting. My mom was thrilled to have met her, and said of my friend that she was "neat", "special", and that she "seemed like she is an incredible woman."

My mum couldn't have nailed it on the head any better: Sorah was special. And was an incredible woman. As we said goodbye to Venice and our lovely lunch, Sorah grabbed me, hugged me, and reiterated the same first words she had said when we first met:

"I love you!"

I only had 5 years with my friend Sorah, and I realize that our time was cut way too short now that she has passed. Can any of this writing actually summarize who my dearly departed friend was and the impact she made on my life and the countless amount of others? Are there enough words to describe the writer, the warrior, the compassionate, the hilarious, the wise, the sensitive, the conscious, the healer, the guidance counselor, the friend, the lover, the daughter, the traveler, the adventurer, the best friend, the confident, and the amazing being that was Sorah the Explorer? I don't think there are enough words or enough tears to bring her back. Or to begin to illustrate what this world has lost now that she is gone.

All that is left now is the immense amount of love and affection that she gave toward everyone in her life and an extreme sadness felt by those once warmed by her light. She made every moment that she was in my life better. She was truly a person who knew how to live life for today, who knew to not take anything in life for granted, and someone who knew how to enjoy every moment that we are blessed living.

Two summers ago, I was headed to Berlin and Prague on one of my many adventures and asked my Facebook friends if they had connections in Germany or Czech Republic. It didn't shock me in the least that it was Sorah with a response when she messaged me an hour later connecting me with her friend Petra in Prague. Sorah praised Petra and said I would be in good hands contacting her.

When I finally arrived in Czech, I reached out to Petra and we agreed to meet up for some drinks. Petra, a perfect stranger that had no connection to me other than being Sorah's friend, took me out for a night in the bohemian capital that I will never forget. She and her friend lead me out to all the most gorgeous and all the best bars and places in Prague, all the while buying me cocktails the whole time--despite my insistence to the alternative! I finally had to stop and insist that I pay for at least one round of drinks. Probably because, at that point, it was way past my turn to pay and I felt guilty that here I was the American getting wined and dined all over Praha without having done anything to have earned such an amazing welcome.

Before parting ways with the ladies, I asked Petra to remind me of how she and Sorah had met. I knew that the two of them had met while on holiday in Asia, but the specs were foggy to me other than that. She reminded me of the details I had forgotten but brought to life new information that I hadn't realized about our friend:

Petra and Sorah had met in Cambodia while staying in the same hotel. Petra, without warning, got very sick while vacationing and Sorah ended up taking care of her, despite the two women being virtual strangers. Finally, Petra was nursed back to health and an unbreakable bond was formed between the two ladies.

Suddenly a lot seemed to make sense. Petra, it seems, was paying forward all of Sorah's kindness onto me. As I said, Petra and I were perfect strangers before that night that Sorah connected us both. But Petra took it upon herself to show me her world and a glorious time in Praha as a sign of her love for our mutual amiga. Obviously my new Czech friend is one hellova person herself, having been so kind and generous. But that evening just spoke volumes to me about the caliber of a person Sorah was and the people that she had in her world. I couldn't have asked for a better night, I couldn't have imagined a better hostess, and I couldn't have dreamed of any other way the universe could have unveiled itself as more beautiful than the love I witnessed that night between three star-crossed souls.

Sorah the Explorer showed me so much light in my world that I have no choice but to pay forward her intensity and passion for life and people. Her swift and sudden departure from this world is a cruel reminder that life is short. I'm truly so devastated by her loss that words cannot fill the void that remains in her wake. There is a pain in realizing the inevitable end to something and so much more anguish when that end is a friend's life taken way too soon. If I had one more chance to grab you and hug you, to travel with you, or to even take a shot of Jameson with you--knowing damn good and well I loathe but you loved whiskey-- it would make losing you forever somewhat bearable.

I haven't stopped crying in the days since I found out you are gone, my sweet Sorah. I'm sure that's the regret I feel for not being more present in your life and the regret I'll carry with me forever knowing we could have traveled together or done things differently.

"You can't cry over me forever," I can just hear her say. "Well, maybe cry just a little bit more to show me how much you really love me," She might have even followed up with as a joke.

And she would be right. I should laugh more, I should breath more, and I should stop to look around and appreciate all of the beauty in nature and the people surrounding me, just as Sorah would.

There have been many, many kind words written about my friend, Sorah Lee, since her passing. This is the message by her friend Ernesto that has stuck out to me as the most poignant:

"Life is too short ladies and gentlemen. Travel whenever you get the chance. Fall in love as much as possible, even if it's with the same person over and over again. Never let anyone stop you from doing anything. Be the person you always dreamed you would be. Have zero regrets."

In short: live more like Sorah did. Have a zest for living and make no apologies for the choices you make and how awesome you are as a person.

The last time we spoke via text, she was apologizing for missing my book release party because her long lost Panamanian friend was in town only for that night. I laughed at this excuse, because I valued it a good one but more because it was honest and just so typically Sorah. Of course she'd be having dinner with her friend from Panama on a Thursday night. Why wouldn't she? The last sms message she ever sent to me said:

"I'll text you after and see where you're at. Love you!!!!"

A few weeks later, I saw her in passing at an event we were working together. We briefly caught up with each other and discussed holiday and travel plans. We both ardently agreed that 2015 would be the year we would travel together. I looked at her before walking away and I said:

"Promise?"

"Promise!" She said. I began walking away.

"I love you, Koelen!!!" She yelled at me. I turned back to Sorah, smiled, blew her a kiss, and trodded away from her.

Little did I know that those would be the last words I would ever hear her say. But oh how they were so typically Sorah.

I love you, too.

New Year’s Revolutions

I’m one that doesn’t like to make resolutions for the new year and will continue to not do so this time around. I never saw a point in pretending to myself that I would change something within my life simply because the calendar marched forward another day. I realized a long time ago that if I really wanted to make a difference in my own life, that I needed a hellova lot more than a date to actually evolve.

I prefer the word revolutions. Because I want a dramatic and wide reaching change versus a selfish and temporary goal towards something I’ll eventually end up abandoning anyway.

If there is one single thing I have learned from 2014 is that nothing comes easy. Life has its ups and downs. And with success comes work and more work. Consequences, too.

2014 saw me accomplish a few of my dreams. I’m a bonafide published author now. (http://www.amazon.com/dp/1631923706 *shameless plug*) I fulfilled my desire to travel with my mom to Paris for her first time. I ventured back to New York for my first time in a decade accompanied by friends and my mother, as well, on her first trip to the city. Costa Rica was visited by us for the third year in a row, too. I joined a kickball team- something my non-athletic-my-whole-life-self thought I would never do. And I love it.

Out of the light, came a lot of darkness. My grandfather passed away just a few weeks ago: he was a hero of mine and the last grandparent I’ll ever have. I lost two best friends this year: One by him revealing what a complete and total shit he was by betraying me and showing his true colors of really being a detriment in my life. The other was my best friend growing up who passed away in late June at the ripe young age of 31. All were surprises to me and completely devastating to me.

I’ve lost friends and lost people, but new friends and new experiences have come around. I’ve suffered many losses in 2014 and each really have shown me how short life can be and that we are all meant to LIVE while we are here. I say in my book: “Life is short. And meant to be lived to the fullest.”

I don’t have any resolutions this year because I don’t do resolutions. Never have. Never will. But if I did, I might resolve to have a lot more sex in the new year. I didn’t quite have enough of it. And I’m going to love more. And be open more. Perhaps that will help me weather out the inevitable bad times en route to the good ones.

The revolution of me won’t be a swift one, but it’s already looking like an epic one…

To 2015 and many years and revolutions to come!

In It For The Goods

Don’t you know what’s out there in the world?

Into the Woods may as well be called “Be Careful What You Wish For,” not just because it is the story about a bunch of fairytale characters whose lives change as results of their desires, but because I simply wished much better for the Disney adaptation of this great musical and story, and I don’t feel like my dreams came true with this one.

When I walked out of the film, I thought of it as a good effort in telling a tale that I’ve seen many times before. I gave it a good solid A-. Yes, I was there with friends and my mother on Boxing Day and had a great time in a beautiful theater. Overall, the experience was rather enjoyable. But upon really reflecting upon my experience of seeing Into The Woods, I realized I wasn’t really that happy with this latest film version.

My first, biggest, and main complaint is the fact that Rob Marshall took a story and completely altered the plot and dramatically changed the ending and some of the characters. Sure, these are fairytale characters, but the musical of Into The Woods’ entire point is giving these characters that we have grown up with our entire lives depth and dimension. The musical asks: what happens after happily ever after? And the answer is not pretty.

Every one of the characters in the musical, in a selfish manner, wishes for something: to go to the ball, to have money, to be accepted, etc. The problem? Wishes have consequences. Dreams take work. And life has responsibilities.

*SPOLIER ALERT*

The original musical Into The Woods sees not one, not two, but nine people die. The wolf is killed by the baker. The narrater is sacrificed to the giant to spare the lives of everyone in the musical. Rapunzel and the baker’s wife are stomped to death by the giant. Jack’s mother is murdered for taunting the giant. The old man passes out dead after having helped the baker obtain a new cow. Little Red finds out her granny was trampled to death as well. The witch either disapates into nothingness, runs herself under the tracks of the giant, or dissolves into a pit of tar–depending on the production. Finally the giant is murdered by Jack, Little Red, the baker, and Cinderella.

The film version gave diligence to three of these deaths, though in some of the stupidest and plot-hole-edness ways I have ever seen. For some reason they made the baker’s wife fall off a cliff. We never actually see her, the baker’s wife, or Jack’s mom die, but at the very end, the baker admits to Jack that his mother is dead. Almost in a “oops, forgot to mention” type of way. Rapunzel lives, the witch disappears, and the old man was just a ghost.

I understand that the production house responsible was Walt Disney Studios and they are grasping at straws to be still considered entirely family appropriate and kid friendly. Maybe it isn’t a good idea to have half of your cast murdered off or squished and have that shown to small children. But is this really a kids movie or story in the first place? Absolutely not. This is a Sondheim piece. Let us not forget the man responsible for the lyrics to West Side Story, and the music to Sweeney Todd, Passions, Company, and Assassins. He isn’t exactly known for being kid-friendly and never has been.

So why the desire to completely alter the story? Yes, these changes don’t seem that drastic, but you are meant to leave the theater with the afore mentioned thought above: be careful what you wish for. We didn’t see *SPOLIER ALERT* Cinderella’s Prince dumping her then running off with Sleeping Beauty. Or Rapunzel’s Prince shacking up with Snow White. (I may have those inverted). In fact, the very last line in the show, following the entire cast’s decision to re-enter the words, is Cinderella singing “I wish.” Honey bear just couldn’t learn her lesson. The film version makes it seem like a place they won’t ever go to again.

My second biggest complaint with the film is that this musical is virtually an opera. It is little dialogue and a lot of music that was removed from the film. I couldn’t believe Sondheim signed off on allowing so many songs to be stricken from the show. With a musical as famous as this one with a soundtrack just as famous, why take the gamble on removing songs that have intricate plot twists interwoven into the lyrics?

Everyone of the songs tell its own story and everyone of the songs has its own life moral. Why cheat us out of some of the lessons Into The Woods is meant to teach us about life?



Third, some effects were completely lost on the film and utterly lackluster. The stage version has an awe inspiring transformation for the witch from an ugly old woman to a beautiful young lady. We didn’t see this as, God love her, Meryl is neither beautiful nor young and her transformation lackluster. Same with The Last Midnight. The witch is telling everyone to fuck off and that she is over it and out. I hardly got any joy and certainly no excitement from seeing what is arguably the finest number of the show being simplified. One of the stars of the show is THE WOODS and I just never felt the movie got that: enchantment and fear that the woods instilled. The woods represented the character’s hopes, transformations, and loss. There was nothing enchanting about the movie’s forest. I guess I just really didn’t feel the magic that you feel when seeing this show live.



Maybe Disney just wanted a cash cow. Knowing that if they made it more kid friendly and billed it as a family and holiday film, they would rack in more money. Maybe they thought re-telling of the story with a more optimistic outcome would pay off in the way they remade Alice in Wonderland and gave that story a positive outcome? The problem is, Alice’s story is already miserable: everyone in Wonderland wants to deceive and kill her, so giving her story any hope seemed logical for Disney in the new millennium. The difference? The new ending left you feeling better about life, Alice, and the original Carroll story.

That is not the case of Into The Woods, a story that many claim is an analogy for the AIDS epidemic and crisis. Changing 8 people dying to only 3 still leaves the audience feeling saddened and at a loss. We don’t know where the witch went. What happens to the remaining 4 leads? Where did the princes go? So much of the movie was left unraveled that the musical neatly cleans up in the end. Maybe because the musical ending is all too real because life isn’t pretty. Maybe there really is no happily ever after because the reality of life sinks in. The trials and tribulations of living. These are the internal questions Into The Woods the musical asks of its viewers.

The film version tries its best to be a happily ever after tale or at least wrap up in a positive way and really kind of falls flat on its face. You are meant to feel the angst of having lost the entire cast. You are supposed to feel sad and lost as a result of seeing the character’s hardships. And you are supposed to realize the very statement I have said this entire write up: be careful what you wish for. Because sometimes wishes come true with unwanted consequences.

I only wish that instead of turning this story into a money making machine, that the producers would have stayed true to the original tale- a fairytale musical with very real morals and situations. I wish…

JUST SAY NO!!! to sex

YAY! The Obama Admin and the FDA has finally lifted their ban on gay men donating blood. AWESOME!



But wait--there's a catch: homosexual males must abstain from sexual intercourse with another man for a year to be able to qualify. They argue that this is in compliance with many other country's regulations on blood donation.

I'm sorry, but who in 2015 gives up sex for a year??? A degenerate? A nun? A monk? Straight, gay, orange, blue...no one ditches doing the nasty for a year and certainly not in order to do something as small and simple like giving blood.



Lest I remind this country that we test our blood supply these days and that this new policy doesn't stop some white frat guy from banging 50 chicks without as much as a regular medical check-up before bleeds into a tube and donates. But god forbid we allow gay men, who want to contribute to the blood supply that is already in desperate need of donations and replenishing, the right to do so. How is this not being told we have to sit at the back of the bus?



God forbid you actually treat gay people like more than second class citizens, either. In a sense, being told you have to refrain from frolicking for a year in order to participate is just as bad as being you can't sit at the table with the rest of us in the first place.

The LA Lie

Reality TV and every other movie producer has made sure no one thinks the streets of Hollywood are paved in gold anymore. Not all of us Angelenos are even in the entertainment industry, either. These are truths about our city: the facts ma'am, just the facts.

With all light, there is dark. With every angel there's a demon. With every city, comes an alternative underbelly of an underworld. And the city of Angels is no exception. There is an air of deception so prevalent in the every day lives of southern Californians, you could cut it with a knife. A deceit so powerful, it can mend or end relationships.

I'm talking about

THE LA LIE

No, this is not regarding the amount of work one has had done on their faces nor the amount of trolls one owns up to having shagged in their lifetime. Nope. This bit of fibbery has nothing to do with physical appearances but more to do with physically appearing any place in an allotted amount of time. Indeed, the LA Lie is all about time and our complete and total inability to utilize it correctly in Los Angeles.

What exactly the hell am I talking about? I'm meaning the little white lies and often big black boldface tales of trickery told to cover our asses in moments of tardiness. Punctuality is no longer a virtue. It's a mirage hidden in an oasis that Angelenos never seem to find--lost in a desert sea of our own selfishness. 

How did we become such compulsive liars when it comes to making plans? I'm of the mind that this merciless mindset stems from another Angeleno trait: LA Impatience. Try being honest with a friend about being late and it always, ALWAYS backfires in our face.

"Babers- I'm gonna be 15 minutes late."

-"WHAT? 15 minutes? What am I supposed to do for that long? WAIT?!? Ugh. Let's just reschedule."-

Or:

-"Where are you? We are already so late and I don't want to be later."-

"Love, I told you I just go off work. I won't even be home for 20. Then I need to change."

-"Oh, God! KST! By the time you get ready, it'll already be 9:30 and that will only leave us 5.5 straight hours of non-stop binge drinking. Whatever. We're leaving without you."-

Despite the fact that, although you two had probably been planning whatever venture you were going on for weeks, Angelenos hate waiting. For fucking anything. And they cancel on you. At a moments notice. All for the fact that they hate waiting. 

So we lie. We twist the truth. We spin Charlotte's Webs of delicious deceit in order to cover our own asses so that we do not get cancelled on and as a way of sustaining the friendships and relationships around us. Because--after all--what's a lil lie gon' hurt?

How does one spot the LA Lie in all its luster? Well, here is a short list of lavish lies dished out by Angelenos to help you recognize the ridiculousness. This will enable to respond with a perfect: "Gurrrl, you lyin'!" In the future.

*"SEE YOU IN A FEW HOURS"

-This means you are lucky if you will see your friend at all. You might as well of asked a Brazilian to commit to an exact specific date for something.

*"I'LL BE THERE IN 30!"

-This means you're either still in the shower or haven't even jumped in yet. You've no intention of arriving in under 45.

*"JUST GOT OUTTA THE SHOWER"

-This usually mean what it says it means, though without the slightest hint of a swift departure or a punctual arrival.

*"I'M ON MY WAY!"

-Bitch- you still can't even find your wallet or your shoes!

*"SEE YOU SOON!"

-Honey you're lucky if you see me at all.

*"LOOKING FOR PARKING!"

-Traffic is a bloody nightmare and I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel for any excuse as to why I'm that much later.

*"BE THERE IN 10."

-There isn't a snowball's chance in hell that I'll see you in less than 20, but here's to dreaming!

*"PARKED!"

-I'm just barely here (if not still 3 minutes away) and I haven't found parking yet.

*"WALKING UP!"

-just parked.

*"I GOT LOST!"

-GPS and all other 2015 ways of navigating the streets suddenly stopped working--probably because my smartphone couldn't handle playing Pandora, talking on speakerphone streaming through Bluetooth, and the influx of a reloading map every 10 seconds--so I'm still 5 minutes away. Do I have time for a Starbucks quickie, too?!

*"IT WAS TODAY? SHIT! I REALLY WANTED TO GO."

-You would rather chew tree bark than go to that shit show in the first place. I mean, sure, you started to get ready, but once you realized it was funner having a underwear dance party in your living room, you knew there was no way you woulda made it anyways.

This is the LA Lie in all its glory.

You've been warned, Los Angeles. As long as cars, traffic, technology, vanity, perpetual business, and selfishness endure, the LA Lie will thrive. Either accept the fact that we are all a bunch of filthy liars or get over waiting in the first place. That's the only advice I've got.

Sorry for the bluntness--I'm just an Angeleno being honest.

A Call to Arms!

Don't get me wrong, there is a lot going on in the world today. Revolutions. Famine. Rebellions. War. Lots of war. Even here in the United States, we are at war. For the last several months we too have been a nation divided. Angry divisions over race, ethics, immigration, politics, and the media.

So much strife has built up in the last few weeks in America that people who were once allies are now enemies. Friends with similar opinions now have their individual biases exposed as a result of the constant feuding that has been going on.

Now, I'm not saying these are issues that we need to sweep under the rug or dismiss because they're items of contention. What I am asking for, though, is an armistice. A battle cry from me to you asking for us to stop the bickering, stop the fighting,and stop the assumptions.

One thing that was said to me recently rang so true, was that I don't know other people's lives. It's true: I don't know your life and your struggles. And you don't know mine. What I do know, however, is that we have one planet to share together. One small world and that's it.
I've decided to lay down my torch and pitchfork, put down my verbal guns, and walk away as unscathed as I possibly can.

Instead I've picked up a new torch. I found a new reason to be angry. A cause to be really be upset over. A war that we can all fight and one that really shouldn't divide any of us.

Will you side with me, here and now--and battle together with the rest of the troops-- in an effort to stomp out a war that we have been winning and losing for 30+ years?

AIDS

When I was a teenager, that word and those bloody initials used to stand for a punishment by death for older gay men in gay Meccas--something that had happened to them in the 80s as a result of their promiscuity. People in the Midwest were immune to this big city disease, or so I also foolishly thought. This ignorant and bigoted outlook was only personally negated for me when I lost my first friend and role model to the disease back in the early 90s.

Now, tens of my friends are living, not dying of HIV, not AIDS. 30+ million people are living with HIV around the world and nearly 36 Million people have perished of AIDS since the outbreak of the disease. AIDS continues to be the single biggest cause of death in Africa and death amongst African children between the ages of 9-19.

Since only August of 2012, the HIV transmission rates are up 132% in America. That's just two years, people, of nearly doubling the amount of transmission rates. In this country, modern scientific advancements have allowed those living with the disease to lead as normal of lives as possible. So why the onslaught of newly diagnosed people?



I attribute this to two things:

First, the fact that we have conquered the disease and have made so many advancements that it is no worse of a diagnosis than diabetes due to how little the medicines allow the disease to affect your life. This has lead to a complacency amongst out people thinking that there is no further need to irradiate an illness that "no longer kills".

Second, the stigma. Despite the fact that we watched 30+ years of this fucked up illness killing people, yet now people are living lives fully, despite the fact that ALL scientific research points out the FACT that those living with an undetectable viral load CANNOT TRANSFER the virus to anyone, and despite that fact this info and breakthrough was and is being poured out into news sources around the world, there is still so much stigma against the disease and those living with it.
Most of this is based upon ignorance.

Yesterday, in fact, I had a friend deny that the scientific research presented from thousands of agencies is not 100% correct and that those who are undetectable can transfer the disease from one person to the other. Or that living with the disease requires a cocktail of medications that have fiercely unwanted side effects. Neither of these are true. This is my point. Until we start the discussion we cannot end the stigma. Stigma is what keeps people in the closet, keeps those from receiving proper treatment, and therefore keeps the disease spreading out of fear of what it means to be branded by society as "unclean".



You may ask: what can you do to help? How can I make a difference in a world filled with so many problems?

Actually there's a lot you can do.

First, go get tested!!! I cannot stress enough how important it is to know your status and to know where you stand. If for no other reason so that you don't infect anybody else if you are positive. So that the disease and the virus ends with you. Ends with me. Because again, once you get treatment, you cannot pass a disease on to somebody else. In fact, researchers suggest that if everyone who tested positive for the HIV virus was put on meds and became undetectable, then there would be no AIDS in 10 years.



Second, and this is just as important as the first rule, is start talking about it. Have conversations with your friends: have you been tested? What's your viral load? How long is it been since your last test? Your positive – how are your meds? What does it mean to be living with HIV? Only until we engage ourselves in conversation will we ever be able to really conquer this disease and end the stigma surrounding it.

But wait, there's more! So much more. If you really want to be part of the revolution that is the changing face of medicinal treatments for the disease, then donate. Not just your money because your bank and your wallet will only cover so much. Who really has enough money to be that philanthropic these days anyways? But there are plenty of ways that you don't have to spend a dime to contribute to ending this disease. Volunteer at your local AIDS healthcare center. Join a calling tree. Help volunteer with AMFAR, AHF, and other HIV and AIDS health organizations. I didn't have the money nor the willpower to feel like I would be able to raise enough money to ride in AIDS lifecycle, so instead I volunteered as a roadie. This will cost me nothing but will help so many people and will probably change me forever. Don't want to leave the house but still feeling like you want to contribute? Then tweet! Facebook! Instagram instead! Hell, even repost this blog post. From the confines of your home, being charitable has never been so easy. Think social media doesn't really work? It does. My friends' posts on social media got me to write this post in the first place.

Talking about it and communication are the single biggest tools we have in combatting this virus and disease.

Prince Harry has issued a call to arms today to honor World AIDS Day, much in the way that I'm asking you to take up arms. He is asking everyone to reveal a secret to your friends (much in the way revealing your status is often kept a secret due to the stigma) with the hashtag #FeelNoShame attached to it. This is a campaign aiming to "raise awareness of how eradicating shame and stigma can save the lives of HIV sufferers, empowering them to seek medical support and eduction about their condition, and preventing the virus from spreading." So if all you do today is reveal a secret with #FeelNoShame next to it, then you have already helped someone else out living with their secret.



(I, too, have a secret: I was addicted to OTC pain pills for 16 years of my life. Luckily through opening up about it and sharing my secret, I am no longer a victim of my own addiction. But there were years that I struggled with telling anyone. #FeelNoShame)

In a world so big with so many problems it is hard to see that one person can make a difference. But that one person may be you, and your actions could change the future for a lot of people.

Thank you for reading.

www.amfar.org www.aidslifecycle.org
www.ahf.org

http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00PXB7NK6/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1416852037&sr=8-1&pi=AC_SX110_SY165_QL70

Last night's Erections

They don't call us yankees for nothing. Isn't yanking one out kind of a great analogy for America and the sad state of our politics? Stroking egos back and forth 'til somebody pops?

Yesterday was midterm election night, and there is no greater display of ignorance and shit-show-ery by United Statesians than an election in which less than a quarter of the overall population votes.

As the night waned and the Republican torch was relit in a symbolic we-won-the-power-back-fire, I couldn't help but notice my liberal friends groaning in disdain. Yet, were last night's election results really that big of a surprise?



No one has been happy with the past congress not accomplishing a whole hellova lot. The economy, despite what the Obama cronies will tell you is NOT that great, and the job market is still nowhere near where it used to be.

I'm a socially liberal person, but even I can see that spending more and more money will never get us out of the extreme debt our nation is in. The democrats, for the most part, do not understand this concept or at least haven't mastered the republican art of trickery in hiding their monetary indulging.



These days, relating to someone's pocket book (or just buying votes with corporate dollars) is the way to win an election. You can be as social-issue friendly as you want to be, but the personal issues are rarely what keep people away nor do they actually sway people to vote. Remember proposition 8? How many people voted for prop 8 in California that also voted for President Obama?

Maybe more social issues should be put onto the ballot. Last night, marijuana legalization barely failed in Florida, but won in two cities in New Mexico, medical usage won in Guam, and Oregon, Alaska, and D.C. passed legalization efforts. As of last night we now have double the amount of states with legalized marijuana for personal consumption. Right here in Cali voters approved of lessened criminal sentences for drug and minor crime offenders--one of the few platforms in which repubs and dems seem to agree upon.

I am certainly not a political expert, but I am glad the election results turned out the way they did. (Though I still wish we would embrace a three party or more system like the rest of the world. Life is not black and white. Why be forced to vote for one stooge versus another?) Now that the Repubs have control of congress, the president now stands in their way with his veto, and the conservatives do not have a vast enough majority to override the prez's check and balance. What does that mean? That these two lame parties are going to have to work together. There will no longer be a rhetoric of "It's the president's fault." Or "It's the republicans stalling." Or else, like this election showed, it's out with the old, in with the new. Or..well, out with the old, in with the old. Or out with the new, in with the new.



Kind of like last night's erections.

DANCING IN MY UNDERWEAR TRAILER

In 2014, every good project has its own trailer.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you

DANCING IN MY UNDERWEAR

le film:

That's some kinky shit

The other day, my BFF--as a total prank--sent me pictures of some men involved in shitting on themselves. While barely holding in my lunch, I asked him why he sent me some scat-master porn. He responded "the world is full of wonder", and pointed out that everyone in the photos was white. I did have to admit that I had never seen an African American individual involved in shit.

Though seeing those poopy pics made me want to puke, they also made me stop and really think about how different people can be and the crazy shit--pun intended--they get into, sexually.

Ask yourself: how did people first get into poo? Was it something they woke up to after a crazy night of bombed drinking and said, "That's hot"? Maybe it is just an unexplained desire? Genetics?

I just vomited a little at the thought of caca, but I'm going to continue.

What makes people into the kinks they are into? Some men like to dress up in women's clothes. Some couples like to ride double-headed dildos with their partners in a "ass to ass" Requiem for a Dream-formation. Some people like to be peed on. Some like to pee. Some spanking. Some leather. Some dog costume. Some mermen costumes. Dolls. Some in the butt. Some in the cooter. Some love to swallow. Some won't go down on you like a nun in a chastity belt. Some prefer head. Others prefer rimming. Some on top. Some on bottom. Some flip flop like a House of Cards episode. Sex outside. Sex inside. Sex in the locker room. Sex as someone else. Sex and the Shitty 3.

And have you ever thought about this: what if you met the person of your dreams and wanted to spend the rest of your life with them... But they were into le poopoo?!

Makes me question how many relationship splits happen secretly because of unmatched desires or out of sync fetishes. What if you had waited your whole life for someone who was also into dressing up like cheetahs? Or being tied up? Or into the same kinks you are into? I can't imagine what it would be like to have to deal with trying to find someone else into chocolate.

How would you react? As someone who can't stand getting near anyone's ass unless they've douched 'er out like a tidal wave, one whiff of anything unsanitary and I go flaccid faster than if I were forced to watch two lesbians scissoring. So the poopy is off the platter for me and would most certainly be a reason to end the relationship. Sorry german sheiße fanatics.

But what about if said potential love interest was into something else a little freaky-deaky? Would their debauchery be a deal-breaker? Would you be down with literally treating your partner like a dog? Licking armpits? Extreme pain? Sounding? Double headed dildoing? Swinging? Slinging? Threesome clinging?

In the words of Depeche Mode, people are people. People are always gonna be into some weird shit. Life is about trying to connect with someone into the same crazy shit as yourself. Should I hate on anyone for their sexual proclivities? I think not. I may not be down with the brown, but I'm also sure that not everyone is into flip fuck faggotry either. To each his own.

We'll never be ROYALS

God bless sports infatuation in America.

I guess I thought this October would be a quiet one, until a little sports team that hadn't really done well in 3 decades started winning. What some thought would be a flash in the pan ended up being one of the best seasons in recent memory for the game. Nope, not this season of Dragrace or America's Next Top Schmodel. We are talking BASEBALL, kids.



Typically this flaming homosexual heads for the proverbial pink and rainbow hills when it comes to dishin' out athletic talk, though I cannot deny my roots. You see, I am a born and raised St. Louisian. To some, this doesn't mean much. To sports fanatics, this means I originally hail from one of the American MECCAS of sports and that I must most certainly "bleed red". Doesn't everyone have crimson blood? Of course they do, but when you come from the city with the most World Series wins after the Yankees, you don't need much explaining to realize that you automatically become a St. Louis Cardinals fan at birth--bleeding Cardinal Red. That and you automatically become a Blues fan. And a Rams fan. And whatever other sports teams that I am apparently, blatantly ignorant about that call the Arch City home.



In a state like Missouri, you really only have two distinct options for a quality city. St. Louis, being the older of the two, and Kansas City--the newer, less east-coast version. Like Angelenos versus Big Applers, there is and has always been a distinct rivalry between these two cities: Which is bigger? Which has the best sports teams? Which has better history? Which is more modern? Which has the higher population count? These are all constant debates amongst Show-Me Staters, and the answers to these questions will never be agreed upon by both sides consecutively.



Maybe because each is 5 hours apart on opposite sides of the state. Maybe because each clings to its own identity while hugging the identities of the other two states at each's doorstep, respectively. Maybe the distance has caused such a divide that there really is no reconciliation. Either way, Missouri cannot survive without these two metropoli. The combined population of both of these two cities is equal to about half of the overall population of the entire state. Can either two really handle standing on their own without the support of the rest of Missouri?

I have never liked KC, MO. It has never been my cup of tea. Though I went to high school a mere hour and a half away from Kansas City, I would hands down choose the 3 hour drive from our house to St. Louis over heading west. I had family there. I had familiarity there. I have my roots there.



But, I've watched over the past few weeks as my facebook friends from back in the midwest are going gaga LORDE over the Kansas City Royals winning streak. As the team prepares to head to the World Series, I cannot help but feel an internal sense of pride. No, I am not a KC Royals fan, nor a Kansas City fan. Nor ever will be, probably. I will always hold a kindred flame for the City of Blues: St. Louis. But I am frankly overjoyed at all the positive energy coming from Missouri for their sports team.

Missouri, as stated above, is a divided state. Divided in politics, divided by land, and divided by loyalty. We have seen in recent months how racial divides have plagued St. Louis and Missouri and have brought a dark cloud of negativity on the state. (As it should. Racial issues must be brought to light and Missouri is learning the hard way now that no states can continue to live in the dark ages of racial segregation, discrimination, and separation.) So seeing the amount of passion and enthusiasm for the Royals has been, honestly, kind of an annoyance for someone who "bleeds red", but also very heartwarming to see the unification it has brought to our state.

Most Missourians can agree that seeing either of our two incredible baseball teams "take the crown" would be a positive boost to our recession plagued state--economically, emotionally, and spiritually. Though I would prefer a re-hashing of the last World Series that the Royals played in--a Battle that involved the Cardinals vs the Royals, I think I too can agree that either of these teams winning the pennant would be a bonus to the Show-Me State.

We may just be another small Midwestern state- but Missouri is known for the amazing contributions of Maya Angelou, Mark Twain, Walt Disney, Joseph Pulitzer, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Scott Joplin, George Washington Carver, Harry Truman, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Edwin Hubble, Josephine Baker, Dick Van Dyke, Eminem, Brad Pitt, Sheryl Crow, John Goodman, Daniel Boone, William Clark, blues, jazz, beef, and the mightiest two rivers on earth.



Soon, we will be known for yet another achievement: obtaining a win in the 2014 World Series. Whatever that means. Maybe we will bleed blue and be ROYALS after all...

Frenergy

Je ne sais quoi.

The dictionary defines this as an intangible quality that makes something distinctive or attractive. People say Paris has a certain Je ne sais quoi about it. But is the electricity in Paris really something so indescribable? I affectionately refer to the Parisian experience and the spirituality of the city as Frenergy (French Energy).

Maybe it's just that I've always been especially attuned to the movement of the universe all around me. Or maybe I'm just deeply in love with the French Capital. But I think anyone can admit that there truly is something in the air when it comes to the city of lights. 

The food, the fashion, and the foolery--all rolled up into one extravagantly lavish and sexy city. Could the tearful exchange I had with God at Sacre Couer be attributed to just a reflection moment in a spiritual place or is my heart filled with joy and a flutter everywhere I go and with everything I do in Paris simply because I suffer from being stuck in a one-sided relationship with the chicest metropolis in the world?

Still, there is something to be said about the experiences here. This is not la Dolce Vida- this is c'est la vie! Did I hardly avoid arrest by prancing around in nothing but my panties at the Eiffel? Did I really meet strangers on the street who bought me drinks and actually wanted to be friends? Did I really accomplish everything I wanted to do and still have time to dance the entire night? Lastly, did Paris really serve itself on a platter for my heart to devour like a gorgeous street side crepe?

Everyone knows the Paris we see in films. The gas lamps reflecting their lights off the Seine like fairies spreading enchantment through the night. The accordion player on the bridge to Ile Saint Louis. The artists on the left bank.   Fashionistas of St. Germain Des Pres. The stunning architectural beauty of marble buildings and thousand-year-old, tree-lined streets. Two kisses on either cheek to compliment the kiss you left at Oscar Wilde's grave.

No matter where you look, you are surrounded by beautiful Frenergy. What I have found on this trip--just like my last bonne voyage de France--is that there really is no exact way that silly words and letters can begin to relate to the world all that Paris encompasses. It is simply something that absolutely must be experienced in person to even begin to comprehend that a place as magical as Paris even exists.

Maybe the best way--non, le easiest way to describe the enchantment and Frenergy is to just simply say that Paris is completely and perfectly j'adoreable.

#frenergy