Amazing exchange with Tim today, yoga professional who does private sessions. He's hot. I can't tell if he's queer or not. Does it matter? Biking home the sun was brilliantly shining silver on my face, it's beauty so rich despite the cold. It was reflective of the self-love nurturing power of yoga I'm sure. Need to do more every day Mary. Yup. Right!
Got home, took a nap and had visions. On the way home, very dangerous biking as some
patches of ice everywhere on streets. And OH that wind. I almost lost a Calla Lily I bought at Trader Joes. The wind sheer blowing my bag up like a kite. Some n_____ bitch on a phone walking past me without a care. It's NUYawk beeaaatch!
Lovely quiet day chillin' and then "GA-THRUMP" from the water buffalo up stairs upon her return from being out all day. Jeez Lueez talk about a lack of grace. She's insensitive, and I'm overly sensitive! We are the twisted downtown East Vilalge co-op family. We are one and we don't want to talk to each other at all. Thank you! Interesting how there's no constant thump thump
thump of music...only the occasional
SQUWAAAK SCRAPE of a kitchen chair above my kitchen and the horror of endless knocking
and scraping when she's cleaning her bedroom, in the mornings of course. In between are he large patch of quietudes which I'm so grateful for. During these times I don't have to
waste thoughts on WTF my breeder neighbors doing. Such a meaninglessness distraction. The downside of city living:
I wonder why I can't just focus on my own shit and not care about others? It's the noise stupid and it's inherent mini-PTSD moments. Her under-her-bed cleaning is always in the mornings when I'm still in bed...Living the dream, just living the dram. LOL.
Oh well, where else am I gonna live for $1000 a month?
On day two of no beer-YES and I want one NOW! But I'll gonna wait till Friday. Discovered a lovely wine from Illyria simply delicious. Can't wait for Friday to buy it again, Vranac. YUM. No aftertaste and great bargain at $17. Do I dare purchase the Everclear from Jersey? I tell myself it's for allegedly--mixing aroma-therapeutic perfumes--but on the first night now, that transmutes into a late-night cocktail habit. The stuff is like pure ethyl-alcohol but I DO want to make bourbon bitters from Madigascar vanilla beans. Mmm I can already smell them. And so simple to make!
Economic concerns deepen haunting me now like late-night ghosts; now that my care-taking job with the 91-year-old has ended. She offered me her ancient SINGER sewing machine as a parting gift but when I hooked it up; the engine part runs but the needle is motionless. Maybe better off in the garbage. So much for happy endings.
I contacted the agency but those n_____s are too busy dealing with other n______s. No time to tell a poor sod "You gotta pay us $400 for the BS. training course in order to work non-CDPAP positions." Blah blah blah blah. No answer to the first email, re-sent it just now.
My yoga exchange partner would make an awesome Somatic therapist, the way he touches and adjusts is so graceful and tender. I had a small emotionally-tinged release thinking about my Mother but then composed myself. Today, we are supposed to do my part of our free exchange. I will massage him. I can't see us going to the sensual place; but one can always hope. What a beautiful man. He must live on a trust fund. The art in that apartment. Immaculate furniture and sparkling clean. Makes my flat look like a surreal, DIY sort-of Bohemian bomb shelter 2nd-hand squat LOL.
Need to keep looking for a therapist. The endless search continues. Now Aetna is sending me messages that all the male therapists I come up with may or may not take my insurance. Perhaps I'm better off journaling (or blogging) at this point. I've always got my Tea-time group for support but it's too superficial to answer deep needs. I need one-to-one to try to concoct a plan to re-motivate myself. Or are my days of making music (besides playing the piano which can be fun but also boring) at an end? I have so little, little desire to be creative. Is it the weather? Fear of being homeless? Fear of cancer. Fear fear fear, jerk-off, jerk-off, jerk-off. Movie movie movie. The blissful land of movies and beer and snacks! Ahhh. Then it starts all over again. Is this a life of luxury? Too much freedom? Why am I not more grateful? Have I lost my love of making music and recording it? Will it come back? Who cares? Why bother? For love of music--resonates with EP-my co-worker. There was a time when I had that. There was a time. Now it's so hard to feel that again. I wonder why I lost it? The bliss of alcohol, edibles and muscles seems to overtake everything. That why I have stop periods like this. To get grounded again. To restore. Sobriety restores. Then party again. Over and over, again and again. Half-measures win. It's called living my life.
I've pretty much written off January for massage income. Of course this could always change. I was trying to explain to a straight older female friend how ageist the M4M massage world is (I think I've become a Grandaddy at this point BEYOND Daddy) and she just couldn't get it. Oh well. She's coping with diabetes and teaching bridge to old ladies as part-time gig ($60 an hour--not bad) and being a part-time maid. Is that what I've morphed into???!!! That's basically what I was with Marcy. I made her laugh. And with so much subtlety she would purr out her demands. At one point I had to assert myself "Marcy when you demand that I look at your when you're talking; it's very disrespectful." Her responses to such feedback were always a flat denial. "I never make demands of you." etc. If I start care-taking with non-CDPAP clients, the rate will go down from $21.50 to $16.00. I somehow thought life would be more...but no. It seems this IS life. Sometimes the princess marries her masseur, or the older queen leaves a gift in the will to the younger queen. But here are no more free rides. Come to think of it were there ever?
The corruption charges against E. Adams continue to pile up. I got a brochure from Village Preservation outlining all the new plans for massive luxury housing high-rises in Manhattan. God this town is filthy with greed--it's truly sickening. Greed, rats and everybody high downtown. Uptown the bubble of Columbia and Teacher's Collage where everything is clean, ordered, spacious. They don't know how good they have it. The world downtown, rats, clunky neighbors scraping chairs in the morning and dropping loud shit (KER-PLUNK) at night. Like a bad room mate situation. I feel my heart hurting. Why am I living here, this way? One big happy family in just another East Village former tenement now current overpriced matchstick box, house of cards.
I wish I had better things to say as I close this out 2:08 AM with 30 degrees outside. Let me at least be grateful there are no fires like in L.A.!!! Okay, I'm grateful. So all the rich, Hollywood bitches are staying at their rich high-rises in the Big Asshole to escape the L.A. fires...
Yes I have purchased a brand-new, spanking M4 Mac Book Pro no less and a new synthesizer and there I am turning it on every morning like a cheap little AM radio. Wow.
Being sober is one painful bitch!
At the very least I was hoping I could upload my complete CD on Bandcamp. That's
still in the works. I think I'll smoke a bowl and do a little weight work-out. My extra massage table makes a perfect weight-lifting bench! I may do that for 30 min; then work on my short-story A Catharsis in Tights based on a night at the Eagle two or three weeks ago wherein the central characters are a couple of older, queer freaks, (acting like tweaking aliens) along with a troop of rats continually tunneling through the frozen, stony earth to the treasure--my building's garbage cans. Ugh.
I may go back to reading Cormac McCarthy. ANDERSONVILLE was stunning. Truly a hard act to follow. Found myself watching mindless funny animal videos last night for two-hours in bed. Jeez; a simple release with muscle porn would have been much more productive.
May ask my friend Annie if she wants to go skiing. Would love to GTF outta Dodge for just a day. I miss my spa days with gal pal D but damn she's so friggin touchy about paying me back the entrance fee to Bath House. Would love to hang with her before she leaves back to AU. but she's such a damn messy drunk after the 10th drink or so...I wanna go to Bath house Thurs. EARLY! I hope they'll keep the noise down in the salt pool area. Earlier is always better. The day before Thanksgiving it was like hanging in McSorley's on a Friday night. SHUT-UPPPPPP! Why am I the only one feeling my body and the inner peace the waters bring? Not HAR HAR HAR? The breeding couples are too much and the gay queens bristling with armor, only acknowledging each other, then the youthful queens with their walls of arogance. DL man boys with their fabulousness. I think I need to get stoned. Time to watch "Raging Grace."
Memes from crime shows "How could a person DO that to somebody????!!!" followed by "I miss him so much" (sniff sniff). The best two were (from "The Ice Man") "I want you to see my face as I pull the trigger for all eternity. For all eternity you're going to see you're only going to see my face." And then the beautiful little Latin boy--now hooked up to a ventilator, starved, unconcious, emaciated, rife with cigarette burns. "He loved to hug" said a family friend. He gave the best hugs. Maybe it's not so bad I won't be entertained by Marcy's addition to ID channel 23, "Very Scary People," "American Psycho," "Who the Bleed did I Marry?" Toxins abide. When I asked the 91-year-old client why she insisted on watching the crime channel for hours on end she said "Because I like it when the killer gets caught! I like it when he's punished!" Upon seeing Night Terrors, she screams "God is here--GET OUT!"
Life is hard and then you die. There are moments of beauty in between. But basically that's it. Stalker seems to have stopped calling. That's a relief anyway.
Hail Mary full of grace. Goodnight to all the Mary's EVERYWHERE!! : ).
I'm go glad I have the ability to tell my life like it is and not a bunch of white-washed bullshit like 90% of the other humans online in the cesspool of digital detritus. Oh, this planet. Yay Me! Bless this lovely mess called the one and only me Steve
nycmasseur. Ha! Dig it baby. Enjoy the ride and Momento Mori.
Steve Orr, LMT
212-777-7199
Massage
Check out "saint_orr" on Mixcloud
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