H i s d a i l y v a r i e t y

My Daily Views on the World!

Pressing Reset

I carry moon dust in my side pouch and sunshine in my smile, it’s time for re-gathering. You can’t but be the bitch for to long, Time for a retune. I most re-group. Essence, sprit, psyche, body, and Soul. I make this declare to the world, to base it in realities, cause that’s what we live in now. Right? 3-D effects of love are and have been nothing but false movements in a massive room, where the fuck is the light switch? They scuttle like rodents, hiding under dish rags, and darting behind walls. You will no longer feed off the morsels in my pantry. I Press Reset!

All ten cover my eyes. Wonder what the nuclear fall out will be, when a man has to REFLECT! The pain drills me, I inhale. Not with standing the charming chronicles of ex- lovers, new lives, and authentic mates. I inhale. Please don’t being me no good news.
I Press Reset!

Stand Up, my young one, Raziel murmurs in my ear. I’m the keeper of your secrets! He holds my hand and walks to over to reality. I hadn’t notice I was so profoundly deep with in this forest. I recalled leaving bread crumbs, but I forgot my morsels were out for seize free to predators. I begin to begin to Bind my Fear, and prey for the needs and not the wants. The meanings and not the reasons. For go the pain over the glory. I set my pace. Turn to Raziel, and thank him out of respect, as I Press Reset.

Building the Bridge between optimism and reality.

He walked in oh so lady like, nails freshly manicured, lips a shiny honey tone, not a hair out of place. Linen shirt newly pressed an uncomplicated earth tone that want oh so well with his overly priced True Religion’s, that he chose to wear cuffed. I curse myself! “I hope this aint my damn date, this is the last time I let a fucking straight person hook me the hell up! They think they know two gay people, and it’s a match made in heaven.” We catch eye contact, I sharply dart my head down, hoping he thinks he may have been stood-up. “I don’t give a hell; I can’t be seen here with this lady”. Excuse me. He speaks directly to me about three octaves lower then I thought it would have been. Are you Jordon? He asks. With pressed lips and a hint of spite & vinegar in my voice. I answered a relic dent Yes!!! Well I’m Oliver your date! He says so matter a fact, like he doesn’t know he’s a humiliation. He reaches and extends his hand towards me. I press my firm grip into his, his compress matching mine. We’ll shall we sit? He leads the way. Sure I mumble and proceed to pace to the awaiting table.

I can’t help to wake-up and think. “You aint nothing but a faggot, a disease carrying, no moral having, crafting, abomination of God. Or am I looking though the eyes of the world outside of mine own. A side from the hatred and misunderstanding of the straight world. Is the over laying hate with in our community. The now online classic line, gay man proclamation. “No Fats No Fems!” If you look like the old Star Jones or having anything in common with Richard Simmons don’t contact me, No disrespect, just not my thing!

A community we’re being revered as a bottom is something looked down upon. Not considering there truly isn’t one with out the other. When do us as Gay men, take a glance around us and stop operating as if there isn’t a pink elephant in the room. When do we recognize optimism can only get you but so far? We as the Gay public need to live in our reality. If we keep imagining that this hallucination of a dream man will fall into out laps, and continue putting unrealistic boarder on every man that walks into put lives. We as a society will be a lot further from that dream house on the beach with your mates, and a lot closer to that old negro at the bar asking do you want a drink?

How do we bridge the line of being optimistic or just being plan out stupid? I have observed in life; you have to have a certain amount of optimism to not let the daily grind of life’s bullshit not get to you. But the question is when does being optimistic make you stupid? In each event in life there is a life lesson. Something inherent you should take with you, so you’re not damned to duplicate the same crap. So being optimistic is ok right? Yes, it most unquestionably is, but there is a fine line of knowing when its time to be positive, and a time to be an achiever and not a talker. Letting things happen on their own, without trying to force them or even prevent them from happening, is great. But always know the line. When is too much Optimism, just too much! In life as well as love, it takes a proactive approach. If there is anything in this life, we all should know by now is. Most beautiful things don’t always come in pretty boxes!

During dinner and drinks, I have to say I was significantly entertained. We speak about everything. Music, politics, family, he even backpacked thou Europe like I did. I found out we knew a lot of the same people. We went to neighboring colleges, and had old stories about going to school in the boondocks. Where you could get the best Hush puppies. And where they served the greatest Milkshakes after midnight. We got up to part ways; he reached out to hug me. I allow the embrace and we hold each other for a few seconds. So I hope to see you again, he says. I respond with a most definitely. He turns and wave’s good bye, and then vanishes behind the closing restaurant door. I walk to my car thinking, wow what a nice guy. But I doubt I’ll call him back, he’s a little to gay for me. Well maybe if I make it home in time I can catch a rerun of Golden Girls.

Let me hear that again!

What happen to Sanging? What happened to be able to write a song, and have the sentiment of the heart in it? Capital is what has happen! It’s the same in the R&B and the Rap game. The love of money over the love of the art. In this day and time when a 2 bit hustler can’t make the money on the streets anymore, turns to rap, thinking it’s another way of making a fast buck, with truly no love beyond the action. The flip side, a marketed lil tart with a few dance steps, and a mouse of a voice goes double Platinum. While distinguished artist like Rachelle Ferrell, and Meshell Ndegeocello, have to go thou Hell and High water to go wood. Is it these true artists were in the wrong era? Or have times changed so much that we are clouded with this fluff. Ella Fitzgerald was no petite women. But she is known as the vocalist of her time. All and all it’s not about the units, it’s not about selling mass amounts. When do we as a public decided to step out of the box of what’s given to us. I have heard many times again people call themselves music whiz kids and not know who Minnie Ripperton was. Next time you go out to pick-up that new piece of Trash everyone is talking about. Which I’m certain is most likely sampled from an old album. Walk a step or two to the left, and take home a pearl. For the beginners I say start of with Joe Sample w/ Lalah Hathaway. It’s the real deal.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLfKFwmesls A little Minnie for you!

I wonder while I wander!

Ok Yes! It was me at Chi Chi’s, Guilty! Don’t judge me. I had a round of drinks at BBQ’s and you know the kids tend to end up at La Chi Chi’s when it’s a do nothing weeknight, and last night sure was. Well having the 22oz BBQ’s drink in me. I was on a mission to pee. Like that kind of piss when you get close to the restroom, it’s clearly pushing its self out.
Now I was with a group of people that were all new to me, but maybe 2 so I had to keep it cute. We didn’t want Blues showing his Ugly face to the new public. Oh yeah for the masses that don’t know, Blues is my, how do I say. My extremely foolish passionate, alter ego. To say the least, he is a hot mess, and the key to the lock is the booze baby. Back to the subject at hand I get in Chi Chi’s and hot footed it to the rest room. I stand in front of the gross ass urinal, quick side bar why is there pubic hair on the urinals, do people’s pubic hair fall off? If so, Yuck! Well as I look up from my relaxing piss. I see a sign for Rolaids, cool right? But as I examine further the ad reads something or other about it not messing with your HIV cocktail. Your HIV cocktail, what the fuck? In life I’ve come to realize that it can take something really diminutive, to make realities around you manifest in your mind. I get tested A LOT, for many reasons.
1. I’m nuts
2. I have Germ phobia
For a while I was bring all my friends to get tested and I would get checked as well, reason being so they wouldn’t feel panicky and alone. Point is as educated as I maybe about the disease, I was still in the dark about the numbers.

Homosexual males, who make up less than 2% of the US population, account for 56% of the adult AIDS cases. As of January 1, 1997, 324,728 men who have sex with men have been diagnosed with AIDS.

These are large numbers. Look we have all been drilled in the head about HIV/AIDS. We know the facts; we have all seen the reality. But my question is do we live in the reality? Do we live in the fact that MOST likely someone that we have had intercourse with, has been positive.
After doing a little research for this Blog, I called a friend of mine that is an HIV/AIDS counselor out of New York. I asked to present date, what % off gay Black Man are HIV positive. I was told 46% in New York City alone. Guys that is Mind-bogging to me! No sermons here, but know your partners, think before you dive. Now I’m not above this my self. We all can look back and realize we fucked up! Know the reality of the world around you. Always keep in mind we have the supreme gift of the Universe “FREE WILL” Control yours!

Web This Blog
Jared Paul Shuler

Create Your Badge


  • Not UR Average
  • Dreams In A Fitted
  • Blogger.com
  • Yahoo.com


Powered by Blogger

© 2006 H i s d a i l y v a r i e t y | Blogger Templates by GeckoandFly.
No part of the content or the blog may be reproduced without prior written permission.
Learn how to make money online | First Aid and Health Information at Medical Health