Is It Time For Us To Go "Commando"?

Words, words words, oh ever so powerful words. They can be used to imprison people (Hitler's speeches against Jews) or liberate them (Churchill's motivational speeches to the English masses). They can also start wars (Crusades started by a Pope, Jihad started by Muslim leaders). The million dollar question is why is it that people keep listening and following these words and/or the leaders that espouse them? When will the "faithful, god-fearing sheep" grow a pair and start thinking for themselves? It's simple, they don't want to think for themselves they'd rather be lead and shown the way. The only problem is these "look over there" leaders are pointing to the wrong ails of their societies. The Muslim clerics blame the western imperialists and their all too liberal society as the problem when it's really lack of jobs, education and poor infrastructure caused by generations of bad government. The Catholic evangelists or mo' haters, like to blame the Gays and\or Abortion as the cause of the problem in America when the real problem is an all too materialistic society that overspends and lives an unsustainable and irresponsible lifestyle that is damaging our environment.

My aunt always liked to say, "when you point a finger to blame someone, you have one pointing at them and three pointing at yourself.". It's ever so true for these religious leaders that are unsurprisingly in bed with the religiously aligned Republican party. The Republican party, pound for pound has more sexual scandals than a crack addicted pimp on Biscayne Boulevard. Don't believe me, there's a whole website devoted to it. These charlatan leaders or snake oil salesmen (pick either) need fear to lead, it is their mother's milk and their followers are very afraid. For one reason or another these followers or "minions" just aren't wired for bravery or the self contained faith to know everything is going to be alright. Like deposed evangelist, Ted Haggard recently said in an Advocate interview "The number 1 way they can raise funds is not to encourage people to be more loving, less greedy or more kind. It's to say there's a secret homosexual agenda to siege America, and fund us so we can battle this agenda to save the family."

As the whole Wikileaks debacle and mass revolutions across the Middle East can attest, the world and it's sheep are ready for the truth, in fact they are starving for it. Michael moore so eloquently put it, "Wikileaks isn't killing people, the secrets are". More and more sheep are breaking ranks and finding their own path to the truth of what is really wrong with any given country. Like Ted Haggard, whose fall from grace helped him "get real" and is now advocating his small church to accept the gay community and to advocate for the religious right to follow suit. Or Sarah, the Kansas city mom who stood up to her critical pastor after she accepted her son to dress as Scooby Doo's Daphne and created an uproar across the US. Or Howard Stern who has finally tired of saying the word "fag" on his show after realizing the effects of bullying on gay youth in America. And the 3000 parishoners that returned hate filled DVD's mailed to their homes in Minnesota in the church's effort to get people to vote against marriage equality for gays in that state. An ever-increasingly vocal yet still in the closet, Anderson Cooper criticizing a Hollywood movie trailer, getting them to remove a "that's so gay" comment out of a recent film.

This ideological civil rights battle has reached a tipping point and we can't wait for more of our youth to commit suicide or more laws passed by religiously led drives to take away more of our rights we have fought so hard to gain. We can no longer heed the advice of the Beatles and “let it be”. We need to go balls out, "warrior up" and take action and dispel the ignorance and myths spread about us. A quick, neutralizing factor is needed to disassemble and defuse these leaders leading this war against us. Like the hustler Mike Jones was for Ted Haggard or the cop in the bathroom for Larry Craig and the 20 year old twink bringing down the ever so dark George Rekers in my hometown, Miami Airport.



One of the most slapstick yet effective commando tactics is the "pie in the face". It the quickest and easiest way to make a statement and humiliate these bullies at the pulpit. Who could ever forget the pie in the face of Anita Bryant for her anti gay crusade in the 70's after succesfully getting a gay adoption ban passed in Florida? Or the more recent pie in the face of an antigay Bishop that claimed pedophile priests should be protected and that gays deserve AIDS? The pie is a messy contraption and really hard to run with to get a good shot at any given podium. I suggest a supersize pink Slushie, a' la Glee. It's a much easier to carry and less menacing looking tool as you casually sashay and slurp your way up to the podium. The pink colored Slushie, a fitting metaphor, since pink has always been one of the most prominent colors used to represent the gay rights movement since Hitler marked homosexuals with pink triangles on their way to the concentration camps. Shakespeare once wrote, "Truth will out" but sometimes truth needs a little nudge to come to the surface, especially when the next generation of our gay brethren are dropping via suicide, gay bashing or as was recently the case for David Kato in Uganda, old fashioned hammer-to-the-head, murder. It looks like outing these human weapons of mass destruction is one of the most powerful and efficient ways to get them to stop lying and dangerously misguiding their flocks. They won't out themselves folks.

We need to "warrior up" and Act Up as we did in the 80's when we were dying by the thousands from AIDS. It's time again for us to "ACT UP"! I certainly in no way want to incite violence but if these elected political officials or religious leaders are misrepresenting themselves and bringing violence and harm to their communities as a result, then someone needs to let these folks know who they are really following. If the journalists or the leader's peers don't out them, then who better than the gay community? We can fight using their own tactics like Gay teen activist Caleb Laieski who has notified officials at every school in Arizona that they must put a stop to bullying, or else he threaten to file a lawsuit however that attempt is easily ignored by these crusaders.

Take the grand daddy of all evangelists in the country for the African American Community as an example; Atlanta's bishop (sexting pictures above) Eddie Long, who after being accused by 4 of his underaged parishoners of sexual abuse and coercion is unbelievably still preaching at his pulpit. He is one of the largest leaders of the anti-gay movement, fiercely fighting any comparison with the gay civil rights movement and the black civil rights movement in this country, stringing along a money hungry, anti-gay relative of the late Martin Luther King to prove his point. Even though Mr. Long's expensive lawyers are "mediating" before going before a judge this summer and will probably get the boys to settle out of court a' la Michael Jackson, his unfinished fall from grace was the catalyst that created an olive branch of support being offered by the NAACP to gay rights groups for a first-time-ever cooperation. It is that kind of monumental change that can happen overnight from outing these con artists.

These are the real freaks, they are the bullies. Their mouths, weapons of mass destruction, much as Muslim clerics incite fatwah to kill Americans, these Benedict Arnold's of America have incited a holy war against our own children. So much so, that in one month last September, they caused 11 suicides of young citizens at the hands of a hatred born at the pulpit, emboldening youths to bully and gay bash, all in the name of the lord. The blood of these youths are the strange fruit harvested from these charlatans.

The trick to "going commando" is to do it right. Larry Flynt's offer of a million dollars to "out" an antigay senator is a really powerful and effective way to get the ball rolling but he didn't name a name- yet. Money always works quickly to get mercenaries to your door but another quick way to "go commando" is to organize "baits" in the local communities where the WMD's reside and lure them via online social apps such as Facebook, Twitter, going to their church and playing the wounded dove looking for a strong father figure to mentor them. Any way to get them to meet you in private. When you do, make sure the room is completely wired and someone else has a high def, FlipCam aimed at the meeting. Video is much more effective at proving their gay-ways than an easily adultered photo. You can also call IRS to report religious organizations that take part in political initiatives or ballots. Religious organizations that do this should lose their tax exempt status, period!

While there are hundreds of gay advocacy groups (HRC, GLAAD, Lambda legal, Save Dade, etc.) effecting great change, using the same legal system to fight our enemies that they use against us, it is taking too long and the gay suicides and bashings are still happening every month. Evangelists are even exporting their hate and causing gay death penalties to be added to the books of African countries that already give years of jail time for being caught in any homosexual act. We also have had huge victories in the last several years; repeal of DADT, Proposition 8 overturned, Matthew Shepard act was signed into law by Obama, removal of the HIV restriction for visa and immigration entries into the US and gay marriage rights being won in many states.

It's time to up the ante and show them these American idiots with their redneck agendas what a gay agenda really is about. It's about civil rights for all and "outing" the truth, however ugly that may be.

Hopefully then, the minions will tire of being minions and look inside themselves for the answers to what is right and wrong without the need for a religion to feed it to them. It's high time they take the wheel and drive themselves to enlightenment road.

So watch your back Maggie Gallagher, Rick Warren, Scott Lively, Brian Brown, James Dobson, and Richard Cohen; we are coming to snare and expose you We will snare you. We will look underneath your beds and in your dirty closets, take samples and pictures, CSI Miami style until you are busted. This is a war we are fighting- a war against terror and religious extremism in our efforts to win equal rights and a more civilized, less violent world, securing a real and new homeland security.

The next time you see any of these self-hating mo's at their pulpits pointing fingers at how sinful homosexuality is, just smile and ask yourself- "When will you get busted in a gay bathhouse or your naughty pics to underage boys hit the web?"

Kandi Burruss from Housewives of ATL, "Every saint has a past and every sinner a future." We are the "sinners" in this battle and we've got the love to get through this war.

*This video of YouTube'r Cadillac Kimberly is dead on and totally worth a listen.

"Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer." William Burroughs

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A great video on the effectiveness of PieIng for political activism.

The 8 largest scandals that outed politicians

The largest mass exodus of 24,000 parishioners at one time from an Evangelical church over it's position on gay equality

The 10 most prominent lies told about the LGBT community.

Cheers To A New Year

Standing in the main lobby of South Beach's Lincoln Road movie theater, watching the dense crowd of people exiting a movie and coming towards me like a herd of colorful cattle. I stand in the middle to get the best seat at this parade. As colorful as Miami is, I never seem to get bored with its diversity. Its the quintessential city to people-watch.

I look to my left and observe an abundantly plump woman plopped on a bench with her arms lifelessly hanging in front of her. I imagine her naked and envision a Big Mac with arms. I get whiffs of conversations as they walk by and swirl around me. They're either complaining about the movie or praising it, discussing the stresses of relationships or of surviving in this difficult economy.

I pause to think about the second terrible year all these people and I have just suffered through and I snap out of it, cracking a grin at the sight of a frizzy, red-haired, chic old lady with black tights and an oversized, bedazzled sweater sashays by, looking like a Liza Minelli wanna-be. Two Latinas conga-by either side of me, oozing sexiness in skintight miniskirts, tall leather black boots, curves like a manatee and perfume like a ripe mango spritzed with jasmine. A couple of skinny, yamaka-wearing, pimple-faced, Jewish boys walk by whispering to each other. A Jaguar-stud with his metrosexual look and Ferragamo loafers checks out the giraffe-tall models walking in front of him while his beautiful wife is on his arm, not noticing a thing. A couple of cute, slender gay boys on their first date, being coyly flirtatious with each other while ordering popcorn and bottled water (Coke is so 2005). I wish for a moment I was on a date then quickly realize I'm perfectly content with my bachelor status. I turn and notice a little boy feistily pulling his hand out and away from his mother's grasp, frustrated, he looks out the window wishing time would pass faster so he could be a grown up already.

The one unifying aspect of 2010 is that everyone in every nation on the planet all know too well how challenging these last couple of years have been. At least now, we can be confident in knowing that we survived this one.



The end of the year is the time to brush off the nastiness and recharge to stand tall again with a renewed effort to make old or new dreams a reality. It's up to us how we will look at the things that will happen to us in the year ahead. Do we look at them as tragic disasters or as opportunities to finally rid this planet of its old, cantankerous and unsustainable systems? While we can't change the bad things that happen, we can change the way we look at them. I promise myself to move forward into the new year with more consideration and mindfulness at every step. I silently pray that this year's challenges nudge us all closer to connecting to our own peace of mind so that we may share that peace with whoever we encounter along our journeys and may that peace spread as virally as a new video on YouTube.

My friend finally frees himself from the long line and scores our munchies from the snackbar. We walk into Tron 3D and towards a new year with oodles of chances for something good or at least something better than last year to happen to us.

Tasting Another Slice of the Miami Orange

http://www.tatisuarez.com/

http://fumeroism.com/

I stumble upon a cool group of cyclists while buying some freshly smoked "street meat" in Wynwood during this year's Art Basel in front of the new Panther Coffee shop on NW 2nd Avenue. They chat me up and offer a bike tour of the Wynwood outdoor art murals. I say "hell yeah" and sign up for tomorrow's ride.

Wynwood is in a world of it's own, this year's Art Basel reinforced the assertion that this is definitely NOT South Beach. It is on the edge, literally. It lies sandwiched between the posh Design District and hipster-central, Midtown Miami neighborhoods but is totally another raw, unrefined flavor to Miami's spicy melting pot. It was once a fashion and industrial district with a large Puerto Rican population but is now fast becoming the next place to find inspiration and respite from conformism.

The bike tour guides from Emerge Miami offered me a chance to learn more about the artists that created the murals littered all over the area. I thought this would be the perfect way to see another layer to this whole Art Basel phenomenon that few get to learn about. I've snapped shots at these murals for months now while driving through my neighborhood of Midtown and have been noticing a recent explosion of fresh and innovative artwork, transforming this blighted neighborhood in the middle of nowhere.

This nowhere has become somewhere overnight thanks to it's visionary artists and developers like David Lombardi of Wynwood lofts, Cafeina, Panther Coffee house and of course the man with the Midas touch, Tony Goldman, proprietor of Joey's Cafe' and the sexy, new Wynwood Kitchen. I remember Tony when he first laid eyes on South Beach back in 1988 and I had just rented a studio apartment in his building on 8th and Ocean drive overlooking the beach for only $350-. Tony was finishing his first remodel of an art deco hotel on South Beach. It was the Park Central and it stood out like a diamond surrounded by charcoal. It was one of the first hotels to be painted with the colorful pastel palette. In those days, the buildings were all depressing, earthy browns and beiges with all of the art deco lines lost from lack of maintenance and color to highlight their beauty. His friend he brought down from New York to manage my the apartment building where I lived was Mark Soyka who was planning to manage a little cafe' named News Cafe'. The rest, as you know is history and Tony's vision was the seed that germinated into the hedonistic, global mecca that is South Beach today.

Flash forward to 2010, Tony's golden fingers are spreading their fairy dust over Wynwood and it is a wonderful transformation to see a nuclear holocaust, concrete jungle burst into colors and bloom galleries on every corner. He commissioned top name artists for the Wynwood Walls project. Kenny Scharf, Shepard Fairy who did the Obama campaign poster and Jeff Soto to name a few, all came together to transform bare concrete walls into individual dimensional doorways into each of their minds. A virtual Alice in Wonderland for art lovers. This project has inspired other wall commissions all over Wynwood from companies like Levi's, Primary Flight, and Sharpie and the list keeps growing. Wynwood's murals are currently one of the largest mural installations in the world featuring over 250 artists from around the globe. Primary flight is the main promoter of "legal street art" in Miami and has helped to bring other corporate sponsors.



I awake to another perfectly blue, crystal clear winter day in Miami and I gear up on my beach cruiser with my 10 year old nephew and ride over to Cafeina to meet the bikers for our tour. My nephew is amp'ed to see all the artists on scissor lifts painting murals live in Cafeina lounge's side parking lot. It was like walking into an open air museum, the way art should be enjoyed in the fresh air, spotlighted by the sun.



We see so many bad ass works of art that I piss off my biker brothers for falling too far behind to take pictures. We turn the corner into what looks like an abandoned warehouse complex that is a shell of a building littered with hundreds of graffitti artists and their girlfriends and baby future graffitti artists. There were guys hanging from steel roof beams on ladders painting over every square inch of bare concrete. It was a massive beehive with each worker bee, working their magic in a peaceful synchronicity. No gang violence or cops here just pure street art. A lot of the business owners are more than happy to have their walls painted so the stigma of illegal tagging of walls isn't an issue here.

Our tour guide goes on to explain a lot of the art and tells us of my favorite artist Retna who uses his own form of hieroglyphics in his murals which only he can decipher. Another story tells of a legendary pioneering graffitti artist named Ynot that passed away but is not forgotten. Artists in the area tag walls with his logo all over Wynwood to keep his memory alive.



The sad but poetic truth is that these murals are just as mortal as the humans that paint them. They will either be painted over quickly or be destroyed by the elements over time. Like a sand castle competition, the only way to capture this fleeting beauty is to take a picture before it's gone. One of the murals I photographed was already painted over by a buzzkill landlord 2 days later.



All in all, this was one of the most refreshing and inspirational things I did during this culture bomb they call Art Basel this year and hope I get to do it again in 2011. It adds to the list of the "wonderful things" that make My-Ami, the real Miami; home for me. Let's just hope and pray that neither Pottery Barn nor Romero Britto set their sights on Wynwood and it remains the edgy and inspirational place it is today.

Learn more about the Miami graffitti movement here.

*Hot Miami tip- Check out La Guarderia produce market on 34th street and NW 2nd avenue and grab oodles of fresh produce and fruit for a fraction of what it would cost at your local Publix. It's totally worth the trek.

A great short film on the origins of Miami's Art Basel and it's arts community, highlighting some of it's most prominent pioneers and shapers of our magic city, recently premiered at Wynwood's only independent film house, O Cinema.

The Quest to Give Thanks In Today's Demanding World

I wanted to share a very personal message written to my family on Thanksgiving day in hopes that you too can find something to be thankful for in this ever increasingly polarized and embattled country and maybe get closer to be a little more united.

We are living in a time where so many wrongs are highlighted and communicated every day, incessantly. So many networks of people communicating the issues that make them afraid or upset. We also have so many new ways of sharing hope and the progress towards making this a more connected and harmonious world. The family and friends that are gathered here today have all gone through so many struggles and have come from all parts of this still great country to break bread together and give thanks for all that we have. I was tossing and turning the other night until 5:00 am and was reviewing all the events of the last several years and couldn’t believe all the changes and trials we have survived. We have lost fathers, mothers, cherished grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, lifelong friends, loving pets. We have survived 2 wars, terrorist attacks and a recession that was a hair away from a great depression. I thought to myself after all that, what would the spirits of our lost family members tell me to be thankful for? Call me crazy, but they all responded in unison, so loudly that I had to get up and write this all down to share with you. What they said was “you all have right now”. Tomorrow, next year, next month is all uncertain but you have this moment, right now to come together and enjoy each other’s presence, to enjoy a memorable moment with our beautiful family. Nothing would make them… and mom more happy than to see us smile at each other and renew an unspoken promise that no matter what tragedies may come, that we stay together. When differences arise, change the subject and talk about a more unifying topic like gardening or vacations or what dreams you dare to envision…or even funny videos on YouTube; whatever it takes to find common ground and share a smile.

We have what our passed family members don’t…time to smile and be with each other. Let’s not waste this opportunity and celebrate that we are alive, healthy and full of so many chances for greatness. We have a unique and very strong minded family, that sometimes doesn’t always see eye to eye. The unifying force is we do share a love for each other and we are all amazing souls that I give thanks every day to be a part of.

Cheers to a better world!

The Tragedy of Becoming a "Manny"

I entered willingly into this 7 day experiment stuck inside a parental incubator\pressure cooker, converting me into a Man-nanny or "manny" for short. I am a nightowl that never wakes up before 9:30 and had to instantly transform myself from a nocturnal to diurnal creature (learned that word from the kids' science homework). The luxury of time deleted from my life, every minute strategized and tightly orchestrated to be able to fit in the obligations of each day to keep this brood of Von Trapp children alive and happy.



Crazed, sleep deprived visions of breeding colonies sprang to my mind where children are raised in segregated golden pastures in the countryside, inside greenhouses like cabbage patch dolls each with their dedicated nurses to dote on them 24-7. This was the most perfect scenario in my mind.



This parental dance requires you to immediately forget your previous identity and transform into someone that solely thinks of the wellbeing of their little ducklings. So much so, that I'd forget to shave, shower or even brush my teeth. Don't even think about blogging, the gym, facials, night creams, long showers or vegging in front of the telly. My life was no longer mine. I felt myself transforming into a shoeless, Yugoslavian mountain woman with a faint smell of sweaty goat and sprigs of hay in my matted hair. I was no longer a footloose and fancy-free bachelor, I was now married to this family. It was a tragic feeling to mourn the loss of my previous life and imagined a lifetime of this. Thank God it was only temporary. I gained a newfound respect for the mothers and fathers of the world. The amount of dedication and responsibility required is dumbfounding to the brain. Thank God the ever-giving-tree of a grandmother was there to take care of the 2 year old and grace us with her scrumptiously-Spanish cooking every night. If it weren't for her, I think I wouldve completely lost my marbles. It was a completely foreign and unusual experience to eat together every night with the 6 of us cracking jokes and sharing stories of the day. My "family meal" back in my Miami condo consisted of eating a sandwich standing over my sink or grabbing a quick bite with a friend on my way home from the gym. The rhythm of this life is as different as hip hop is to Beethoven.



Humans are incredibly adaptable to any changes life brings us and I could probably adapt as well, if I had to, but I would never choose this life. My children are my stories, I am dedicated to them and they fill me completely when they go out into the world and interact with others. Being an uncle is a comfortable niche, the best of both worlds, you get to hang with them part time then return to sender while retaining title of the "cool uncle". The potential for fun is endless.



So many moments collected in my seven days in idyllic and oh-so civilized Dedham, Boston; the delirious, early morning impromptu dances forcing me to laugh when I could barely move my arms enough to sip my coffee, the sharing of senseless dreams from the night before, hand-fart sound competitions, swapping ghost stories and playlist jam sessions on our respective Iphones while frantically rushing them to school, innumerable cranky meltdowns and hugs, grocery trips, picking one of the girls up from school late making her miss another appointment and shortly after buying her a tank top to make up for it, not knowing the drop off or pickup "system" of each school, helping with that blasted homework, watching epidodes of The Event on Hulu before putting them to bed, running to drop the oldest to his way-too-frequent haircut, watching the older siblings coddle and play with their newest 2 year old brother assuring the newest generation of this planet will grow up happy, healthy and free of trauma.



Passing apple farms on my way back from dropping the kids off at school, I realize like farms, families are somewhat invisible sources of life for a society. The "non-farmers" of the world don't realize what it takes to nurture this produce to maturity for the rest of the world to enjoy unless they become a farmer or breeder. The family is the epicenter of humanity from where every thing else comes. If we were all raised surrounded by this much love and support tempered with discipline and a good education, we would probably see a lot less violence or lack as much as we do. We would care for each other as if we were one big human family-the way we should always have but have yet to "get". The love and hate for the rest of the world is born at home. We have seen the effects of that hate recently in this country with the epidemic proportions that gay suicides have risen to. We will eventually get it, and not breed hate at home. As long as we keep refining and perfecting the raising of our children, this healthy produce will be harvested for generations thereafter in the form of a healthier society.



As I dropped the kids off one last time before my sister and brother in law returned from their trip, I stopped the car to notice a street full of fall leaves, trash and recycle bins all perfectly lined up. We don't get this "cold, fall leaves thing" in Miami much. The safety and calm of the moment overwhelmed me. The suburbs were no longer confining or held dread for me. I felt a sudden sweet tide of melancholy rush over and outside the fall was turning into winter. Inside my heated car I too found myself changing. I wondered what the heck I was getting all teary eyed like a chick on the rag, about? I soon realized that I missed "this", a life I had once known. A familial closeness that felt like a bunch of bears nuzzled in a cave ready to hibernate. For this week, this was my clan of the cave bear and the tragedy of becoming a "manny", ironically wasn't a tragedy at all. The warmth of living inside this temporary cocoon allowed me to experience a life full of love and after all the griping and moaning, left me finally really knowing what it meant when all my married and mothered-up girlfriends always chanted, "It's a lot of work but it's so rewarding..." I used to think they were just saying that to psych themselves out from a life they had lost but there is something there, a "fullness" I hadn't felt in a very long time. This may not be my path or destiny but it was a rewarding and enriching experiment. Shapeshifting into a manny was as tough as bootcamp on a summer Miami day yet, if asked again I would gladly oblige. The bonding experience and laughter shared lifted my spirit more than any movie or book I've ever read. This autumnal moment was life in it's purest form, no illusions, no lies and it fed me so much more than it cost me in energy or loss of sleep.

Addicted to Filling the Gap

If Dr. Laura was black and ranted on about the "big N" word it would've been acceptable but since she wasn't, her rant wasn't either. Well here goes my rant and remember I am one of you and being within my rank, I can criticize from within.



I refuse to become so addicted to Grindr that I can't have a meaningful conversation with a friend without looking at my phone every 5 minutes to see who's sending me a nude pic of themselves. I refuse to fall into the gap of online hookups in order to fill this gap within me. I refuse to feel like i'm a freak because I don't succumb to the status quo of my community. I refuse to create an alter porn-ego of myself and post pictures of my throbbing, hard penis to thousands of unknowns just to bait them in to love me. I refuse to feel like i'm not good enough because I don't get laid 2-3 times per week with 2-3 different strangers per week. I am not less-cool or attractive for it. I am more than just a slab of grade A man-meat and I want more than just man-meat. I want a real and whole man that isn't looking to find what's the next better catch every night on the online hook-up slot machine. Are we so jaded that what I am saying is so off the charts? Yet, if I dare say these things out loud to my friends or strangers, they would roll their eyes and look at me pitifully as if I was an idealistic Charlotte from Sex and the City. Are we so hungry for intimacy that we are willing to deny we have any feelings at all just to get it? Like a meth addict that loses his teeth to keep getting "fixed", have we given up a part of ourselves just to get our "fix"? We all need love, everyone knew this even before the Beatles sang about it. So why is it in the gay community we act like we don't really need it and that's it's enough to just "hook up"? Are we just taking the bare minimum because we don't feel we can get any more? Have we lost faith that there is anyone more out there? Is being pretty or hot all there is? Have we reduced ourselves to body measurements as if we were ancient Roman slave traders?



I post a pic of my latest tattoo on my facebook page and a girlfriend quickly comments on my Wall -"you're addicted!" I pause and soon realize it rings true. I am a little addicted.



I started out with one tattoo to mark the moment my first book was published. Then a 2nd when I turned 35. Then a 3rd humongous ancient Tibetan symbol in the center of my back to commemorate the peace Buddhism has brought to my life. Finally my 4th tat on my writing hand to constantly remind myself to be true to myself and to never whimp out on any opportunities life throws my way. Each and every time I would get addicted to the fear of the pain beforehand, the pain of the needle piercing my skin and then the sweet pain of my skin's cells responding to that pain and feeling my body heal. I would savor how that stinging pain would send goosebumps up my spine like a masochistic pleasure that shakes your insides so that you feel the sliver of space between your body and spirit. Each and every time I would feel satisfied after doing it because each one meant something, earning me an emotional badge by surviving my self-inflicted trial by fire.



Like Journey sings in Don't Stop Believing- "working hard to get my fill-everybody wants a thrill". Addictions come in endless shapes, sizes and flavors. They can be booty calls, midnight snickers, shopping, sport cars or funnel cakes-it doesn't matter. What matters is that there's an itch that needs a' scratchin'. A need that calls to be satisfied-a "gap" that needs a' fillin'. This "filling the gap" may sound pornographic and to some it is -literally. Ask any porn star what they love the most about their trade. They'll confess it's the constant flow of good sex with hot partners and they can never seem to get enough of it. The "gap" I'm talking about is one inside each and every one of us. The key is to find out what the hell it really is and eventually find that Snickers moment and finally feel sat-is-fied. We all have a desire to escape the misery of needing something. Buddhism teaches detachment is the only way to avoid suffering but we are human and we will always need a million things. The trick is to force yourself to stop needing ANY-thing and have the faith that whatever we do need will come to us naturally. When we finally do get there we realize that the one "thing" we need isn't a thing at all but a feeling.

Like Chinese food or a one night stand; these addictions leave you hungry for more moments later. They are brief respites; never enough to fill the gap inside long enough to last a lifetime. They are momentary stop-gap measures that like the temporary gulf oil cap, will eventually start to leak out all the dark pus we carry inside until we find the honest guts and self-realization to go in there and really clean house to find the true reasons behind each addiction or lack of self-love. The reasons are inside each and every one of us, secreted away so deeply that sometimes they are taken to the grave and never shared with even the closest of loved ones.

With so many opportunities for addiction, anyone can agree that moderation is the golden rule of life that we should all strive for, the foundation for happiness. For if we tip the scales to any one side, we eventually fall like the fatter end of a see saw. Just as the pendulum that swings too far to the left or the right, when it finally swings back to the middle, all is in equilibrium and all is at peace and the ying-yang tug of war of life is quelled for the moment. It is this coolness, this alive feeling that I yearn for. The hardest part is to find the least damaging way to fulfill it.

What are you addicted to? Where will you find your god; on Grindr, in the Mac store, in his abs, or within yourself?