Yes, I am free. No house arrest. No breathalyzer, now it’s up to me.

What did I do with my new freedom?!

Well… I got drunk. Blotto, bat-shit crazy, blind drunk. It was great. Liberating. I said awful and hurtful things to the man I love. My ex was called in, as no one could control me. I was an awful yet sloppy viper.

Was it ok? Hell no.

Do I want my freedom? Hell yes.

But if it costs me my own happiness…?

The first night since mid of last year that alcohol crossed my lips… I received a haunting. My uncle came to my tiny apartment late in the night and knocked some artwork off the wall and wrecked stuff. I didn’t think anything at the time.. But it was him. I know it was. Warning me. Because sure enough, the next day I tried to self destruct. Again. Drink after drink, word after hateful word..

Lemme tell you, you can only really do that effectively once, self destruct I mean. After that you are just crying wolf… No one will catch you, or try to save you.

I don’t think it’s the booze. Hell up till VD I had been sober for more than 6 months. The booze just becomes the tool. The weaklings way out. It’s a form of slow suicide, that I had been working towards for years. The law pressed pause… And the funny part now..? I have no job. I’m bankrupt. No credit. Nada. Just me and my cats really. Yet I’m not unhappy. I have a great man in my life. My parents help keep me afloat financially. Essentially life is good. But old habits apparently die hard.

In any event. I’m blogging again. I will more than likely drink again. I’m not hiding behind pretty truths. Like I did in the past. My thirteen year relationship helped make me who I am today, right? Well. The hard truth is that no one wins. I can comfortably tell you that most gay men I know are blind alcoholics. But booze isn’t always the problem… Life is. Tell me I am wrong Grindr men.

Anyways. I am starting over. I am going to live. If I’m invited for a few drinks, I’ll go. I am not afraid to live. But I am going to try to make writing my “drug of choice” again. And the stories I have aren’t pretty. They aren’t pleasant.

I don’t know where I am going in life.. I’m not hanging myself by a rope in the garage, like my uncle did. I’m curious. Too curious. Like my daughters. My cats… Hahah. So we will trudge on. Hopefully my new man will keep me. I do adore him. He’s Mexican, but not as bat-shit crazy as my last Mexican.. Let’s see where this goes.


So I have a friend in the funeral industry. It’s been cool in that curious fascinating way that we discuss the forbidden… And he’s an awesome guy in general to know! I consider him a friend and we talk about far more than his work now..

That said an associate at my work recently and quite suddenly passed. As is usual, a funeral and memorial notice was posted. As a store we usually rally together in times of need like this… I noticed, however, that the mortuary was the one my good friend works at. I know it was in poor taste but I inquired as whether he was aware of the deceased. I then got a bit too much info, as one would I guess. So now I know all who’s doing what and when and I am dying inside! I feel shitty for asking and shittier for knowing!

That said I know her well and I believe she’d find this awkwardness amusing.

May she rest in peace.

From The Land of Hairdos, Weddings, and Quinceañeras

Always exciting here at the complex.. Today I had my neighbor rushing in and out most of the day with curlers on her head. It was comical, but I gotta say when she left the house for the evening, girlfriend looked pretty fierce. Flawless makeup, great gown, and sexy heels! Her tiny son was adorable in his wee little suit. A night on the town, I wondered aloud. My friend informed it was more likely a wedding reception or Quinceañera.

In the two blocks surrounding me there are two reception-ish halls, one traditional and the other… well it’s part of our quaint downtown adjacent to many restaurants. Also there are for sure 3 churches (one of who’s bells toll very near) if not more. I had no prior knowledge of all this in my ‘hood were at least one neighbor seems like a drug dealer (what with all the short time visitors, 5 minutes per sale I figure..). I have to admit, its like 10 times more charming to me now. Not only Mexican food (namely rolled chicken tacos and Horchata for ME..) on every corner. No. Now there is glamour, romance, and odd women in curlers rushing about everywhere!

Now where is my brunette lil’ Honey Boo Boo?!?