These passages are from book/season two, chapter/episode 7: Journey from Within & 14: Foreshadowing...
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I have found, especially in my dealings with men, that my expectations have usually been too high. I tended to live in a fantasy world for a long time, until I woke up one day and found out that when push comes to shove: It doesn’t really matter. In the scheme of things, I really could care less. I know what I have to offer to a man or a friend or a family member. Finally, I know who I am and NOW I don't give a fat rat's ass whether you like me or not. How can one NOT like someone who is so damned agreeable all the time?
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A co-worker's husband recently stumbled across one of these episodes and was angered at the fact that I originally titled my work Chronicles, as such a title should tell a story of Biblical proportions, of a religious nature. Honey, I am here to tell you that it has been judgmental people like him, he who is far from being a saint himself, I am certain, - who have TRIED to hold me back and keep me from keeping my eye on the prize. I am here to testify that my life has been a journey of Biblical proportions - nothing short of a religious experience.
I have danced with the devil, been through loads of shit, only to come out shiny and clean in the end. I have suffered greatly due to unwise decisions, but I don't regret any of it. I feel blessed by all the lessons I’ve learned from a very young age. I have survived time and time again. Now, you tell me, God doesn’t touch somebody blessed like myself - having overcome all the obstacles I have overcome? Please. People have called me a whore. My response – YES! And a blessed one at that. I have been called a FAG, fagot, (expletive deleted for this post), bitch, slut, dinge queen - to my face mind you. I prefer writer/ poet/actor/director/producer/female impersonator/humanitarian, but I digress. I have been laughed at, mocked, poked at, joked about, but mostly ENVIED. Why? Because unlike a lot of people I have crossed paths with - I know full well who I am and that I have a purpose and a place.
I learned a lot of this after my break up with Tiger. He taught me many valuable lessons. You see, years later I realized that Tiger was not the problem with my failed relationship with him - or any other man for that matter. In fact, he and I remain friends - close friends to this day. Talk about steadfastness... After all we went through and all that was said – (we'll come back to that, bear with me as I am on a roll) - I learned just from that fact alone, by looking at my self, my own infidelities and lack of self-esteem. I haven't been in a relationship since then, and the sad day I realized I had never actually been in one was tough, but I finally realize that most men in my lifestyle - or at least in my town - can't keep up with me. The one's I attract usually are there to hold me back in some sort of way.
You see this has been a lifelong experience of constant soul-searching and seeking out the right path. I am so sick of these evangelicals worrying about my soul, as if they're any better than I am. Right. If I am going to burn in hell, it certainly won't be because I am gay or have had relations with men. They are quick to quote the Bible, but slow to realize their own shortcomings - or as I like to call them shortfalls. Basically, people are full of shit - generally and rarely are there those like myself who really, truly give a damn about matters of the heart and soul. Because when push comes to shove people are out or in for themselves.
When I tell you that I have backslid, nobody has done so like me, but I have always found the God in it somewhere. It's kind of creepy the relationship I have with my inner Jesus. He really has a bigger sense of humor than most people give Him credit for. You see He lives in me. I wouldn't have survived all of what I have if He didn't. So, when people's husbands come across my words on a page and pass judgment I take it very personally - it's like you almost want to strike up a debate and educate them about a few things. Why? If I had a dollar for every time I have wasted my breath with the likes of him, this book would be a made movie by now. Besides, I know for sure I will be looking for those precious breaths on my deathbed one day (hopefully not any time soon), to tell somebody how beautiful God is and how grateful I was to live the life I was blessed and put on this earth to live.
*
There was a good friend of mine named Kenneth Dickerson. He and I did shows together in the late '80s. He was an immensely talented actor and musician. He even got a recurring role on a TV sitcom. He was also a very sexual individual. His music, acting and sex were his quests in life. While we never got involved sexually, I was naive and scared to death of him at the time when we were close friends.
We lost touch after those shows. I was working various jobs, doing shows with Why Not Productions and trying to get my schooling together. He moved to California to work and live with the band Mazarati, did TV and film, then joined the Navy -- more men. At first, I missed Ken tremendously, but in time he became a good memory always in my heart.
From time to time, I'd fantasize about he and I being lovers and vowed that if we ever met again, we'd throw caution and everything else to the wind and get naked, wild and wet together.
Well, as it turns out, we all live in a small world. There I was working an office job at the college I went to when I came across his name, address and phone number. We were going to the same school. Excitement filled my heart and suddenly Kenneth became the forefront of most of my thoughts and emotions. First, I pulled up his computer file. He wasn't in any classes that particular semester, but excelled tremendously the prior semester in computer science. Then I pulled his hard file to see his photo. He looked so different, so handsome, and so manly -- that's when I learned he was in the Navy. Hmmm.
For days, I held onto his address and number. Finally, I called him; oh...the number was changed to a non-published one.
Damn.
Well, I decided to write a letter. It was brief. I just told him what I was doing and what I'd like to do. I sealed it, mailed it and prayed. After a few days, I tried to put him out of my mind. I figured it had been so long. He probably thought I was nuts.
Then...a week later, the phone rang. It was a cool, cloudy, lazy Saturday afternoon and I was home -- alone. I answered the phone. It was a voice...deep and sensual, almost alluring. The voice asked for me and I responded. He proceeded to ask me about Kenneth. "A jealous lover?" I thought. Oh, how cute! But much to my dismay, a lover Ted was not. He was Kenneth's caregiver. Huh?
Stunned.
I found out Kenneth was a dying man.
Sweetest Jesus, not Kenneth. Not Kenny. I had plans.
Well, Ted offered to take me to see Kenneth. He said all of his friends and even his own mother had deserted him. Only his younger brother came to see him, but couldn't stand the sight of him.
I took his offer.
On the way to the hospital, he kept telling me to be warned of what I'll see.
I couldn't imagine. I'm like: What's the big issue?
To my misfortune, I soon found out.
I could not believe my eyes.
I could not bear what had happened.
AIDS had ravaged him beyond recognition.
He looked like the covers were enveloping him.
His eyes were big, larger than him it seemed. His face sunken in, he looked sullen.
He looked old.
He looked ...like a dead man breathing.
Sick, sick ...sick. He was the epitome of sick.
I sat there. Ted left me alone with him, in the room. At first, I said nothing. I watched him, watching TV.
Then he turned to me and said, "Can you stand it? If not, you can leave. I won't stop you. Everyone else has walked out that door."
I refused to concur and proceeded to tell him about my shows, our shows, his music, school, life, sex, my crush on him. I talked to him about everything, except AIDS, death and sickness. Those were obvious and impending. Why ponder on it? What would the point be? He told me about the Navy, when he was raped, his TV shows. He looted in the 1992 Los Angeles riot, got a week's worth of groceries -- he was proud of that. He didn't care about the laws he so followed all the time, then -- he figured, a great injustice had been done and he wanted a piece of the pie. It made sense when he put it like that. His last movie was to be in the carnival scene in Poetic Justice. He was so proud to be cast, but he was too sick to do it.
We reminisced about the show we worked on, Why Is That? and how much money we made for that organization. He explained why he moved to California: to escape his stepfather, who had molested him. He said he actually agreed to accept the step dad's advances to save his little brother from the same torment, but he wouldn't be able to save him now. He said he knew I wanted to have sex with him back then, but we never had the opportunity (he would have been my first experience).
Peculiar. He recalled us being alone in my room, but he was worried my father would come upstairs and catch us. He didn't want to disrespect my parents. He remembered being quite fond of my mother.
After an hour and a half, he couldn't eat, was irritated and messed the bed. He was like an eighty year old baby-man. Unbelievable. As I kissed his hand and looked at those humongous eyes of despair and exhaustion, I thought a body is just a body -- a loan from our creator.
Two days later, I went to my doctor for my yearly physical and got tested for HIV. I always get tested at my annual check-up and encourage my friends to do the same. But this time it was different. I've known HIV+ people. I've known people who had died from AIDS. The HIV+ people are still alive, healthy looking, but this time it was personal. This time was the first time, of too many times in my life, I have witnessed somebody dying or somebody affected by this global killer with no conscience.
Ten days later, on October 14, 1994, Kenneth died.
Ted called and told me.
Silence.
A hush came over me.
I thought of nothing else.
When I got my negative results that following Monday, I cried tears of relief.
Sure, Kenneth was promiscuous.
He'd be the first to admit it, but only because he was abused and lonely.
I was angry!
Not at Kenneth, but at God.
So much hurt in his life -- misery.
What a way to die.
Ravaged! Skin and bones...
All because he made unwise decisions?
Not to hurt anyone, but to not be lonely...to be loved.
I prayed to the very God I was angry with.
I argued with God.
I said, "Hey! I've been there. Lord, you know I have had my share of dates...men, SEX!"
"I have even paid for it!"
"I've done it on the railroad tracks, in the bed, in the alley, in a car, even in a church. What about me? Is this gonna be my way out of this f***ed up world YOU created? To wither down to nothing? A mere reflection of one's self. Kenneth's clock just had to stop now. He was only 25 years old. 25! Pissing and shitting all over himself. Dying and lonely...all alone."
Ted wanted me to go to the funeral, but I couldn't.
Ted said, "You're not the first one to walk out that door."
But that's not the way it was going down.
It was too much.
It was like I went from an overjoyed high to an ultimate low.
Little did I know that one year to the day after Kenneth died, my father would die and my insanely naive life as I knew it would change...
...Forever.
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