January 2009 Archives

I went out on this date yesterday. Actually it was a non-date, an unofficial date, a test date if you will - with this pretty amazing artist that I'm fond of. As I sat across the table from him, my mind blank, my energy low, highly distracted and despondent - I thought to myself "What the fuck is going on with me?" I figured it was part of my bad habit of finding a way to mess up a situation, any situation - give me a fireproof mansion and it'll be burned to the ground in under 10 minutes, that's my accidental motto. It took me two glasses of wine, an entire subway ride home, a conversation with my sister and a hug from my next door neighbor to realize why I was the most uninteresting person on earth last night: blood.

I'll explain: I went to the doctor on Tuesday, a specialist, and he told me that he's gotta have surgery to remove a growth so he can see if I have cancer. He's planning on slicing me like a melon, taking off this bump or whatever, pouring it in acid, putting it under a microscope and discover if I'm rotting on the inside. To be totally honest for a moment - when he told me I nearly cried (how's that gonna be if I'm HIV positive and Cancerous at 27? My sister says that if this turns out to be the case I should write a book) but I didn't cry. The only thing I have more pride in than the honesty in which I feel emotions is the discipline I've cultivated by which I express them. Anyway, I'm getting off topic. So on Wednesday I go to my normal doctor, this old man who I adore, and he tells me not to worry too much and then harasses me about why I don't have a boyfriend. Same old same old. BUT then he proceeds to take an insane amount of blood out of my system for viral load, cd4 count, liver tests the normal stuff, but then tons more for the surgery prep.

And then I go back to work, and go on this date - and I'm all lackluster and can't concentrate and don't know what to say or do. And it's blood! I was just exhausted from the blood-letting. And I was pretty happy to have this realization, cause it means I'm not a totally horrible person to spend time with.

The moral of my story is this: When going out on a hot date, be sure you have enough blood in your system....

Okay, I guess that's it. My valiant effort to not write about how terrified I am of something by telling a round-a-bout, non-conclusive, lame story about something unrelated. It's the just the way I do my business. I'm actually not telling anyone about the surgery - just my roommate who's picking me up from the hospital and my two sisters - and I've sworn them to secrecy. I'm nervous that if the info gets out, people will get worried and talk to me about it and I'll get even more terrified. I figure no one I know reads this blog so I'm safe. But if I'm wrong and you do know me. Well, I suppose, just don't bring it up. Talk to me about something completely unrelated. I need to get my mind off of my worries...It's probably nothing anyway. It's probably nothing.

It's the dawning of a new age in America. Suddenly I'm all red white and blue. Suddenly I say god bless America with no trace of sarcasm in my voice. Suddenly the definitions we had for many things no longer apply.

This week Barack Obama became president. My entire work closed down for two hours on inauguration day and everyone gathered in Joe's Pub, and we clapped, and we cried, as we watch the action unfold on the big screen.

This week I stopped by the Grenadian Consulate and picked up my new passport, an official sign that I am now a citizen of my ancestral homeland of Grenada. Everyone asks me why I'd want to become a citizen of such a dinky country in the west indies, but I think that's like asking a Jew why they'd want to visit Israel - should this be obvious? But of course there are business reason - Grenada is a British Commonwealth and so hopefully this duel citizenship of mine will make it easier for me to move to the UK one day. Which begs the question - why England? I suppose the most simple answer is that I have a longing in me to run away from my life. Why? There's no simple answer to that one.

As these two events come to their fruition, I feel like gazing up at the sky and thanking the world for being just what it is. What an amazing place, where such things are possible as a black president and a boy from Montana being reincarnated as a real life west Indian on the very same day. God is truely good.

As one chapter closes, another opens. As the US is welcomed back into the international community, I am welcomed too. And while I can't quite connect these two events yet, I'm certain that they both mean something - and that this something is the very same thing. Just on the edge of something, just on the edge - oh lord - again, just on the edge.

My friend Sammy K asks me "How will we be able to teach the past what the future is?" My answer: Tell the past that the future is just like it is, only bigger. The future seems so expansive, so full of possibility, it shocks the mind close to paralyzing me when I try to wrap my head around it all.

How will we do all the things we've promised to do? How will we fulfill a destiny that is so large? What if, when we are in midstream, we change our mind? What if fear spills in? Or, worse, a different inspiration than the one that started us on this journey? How will we make it?

Hand in hand - arm in arm. Who knows what will happen tomorrow? Who knows where we'll be? But we can make it there if we work together and shirk off our hesitations - and trust that our instincts will take us where we really need to be. There is work to be done - in this country and all countries. An entire world out there. An entire future, just waiting to be discovered.

I feel like I'm on a gigantic precipice, staring down. And for the life of me, I know I'm gonna fall soon. And I'm looking forward to that.

God that sounded so morbid. I've been rocking too much Joseph Campbell recently, so you'll have to forgive me. Backstory: In Power of Myth Joey says this thing, that I'll horribly paraphrase, but basically he discusses (well actually rants, talk-talk-talks us through) this concept of human beings going through different phases of life. It's recognized in all cultures. In some cultures you would change the way you dressed suddenly, or the colors you wore, when you reached a certain age. Changes jobs or roles in society. In some cultures something would happen to you and would litteraly get a new name. It's the symbolic dieing and rebirth each of us goes through. The 21st century rocks for shizzle, but it's made a boogie man of death, and that hella lame.

That last sentence wasn't a paraphrase of Joseph Campbell by the way.

I've always viewed the different times in my life like computer operating systems.

When I was a child, I was JC 1.0: quiet, watchful, mellow. Those years are all in pastels for me. I don't remember a thing from before I was twelve, I swear to god.

Then puberty hit and I was launched head first into JC 2.0: a wild mush of testosterone, angst, lots of good old fashion fun.

Then JC 3.0 came with it's delusions of maturity: big dreams, bigger motivation. Tell JC 3.0 it can't do something? Watch this! Ha! Told you so! It's like magic! Blessed by the gods! JC 3.0 was a good ride. I was operating on JC 3.0 for a long time. For a very long time - maybe too long, but that's how it is. You catch the wave and you ride it. But of course every wave eventually hits the shore. JC 3.0 met a hard end. Burned out I'm afraid.

JC 4.0 seemed like a downgrade in comparison: a nervous isolated young man who can't talk to others and can't control his own emotions sits and stares out the window, terrified of the world. HIV positive, and lonely. Quiet, watchful, not sad, but yes, certainly something melancholy about this software. A year on JC 4.0 and it felt like a dozen.

There are those people that would enter my cave during that year when I was meditating or screaming, or both, and they'd sit with me and meditate or scream too - those people are angels, every one.

JC 4.0 just up and disappeared one day. And JC 5.0 fell into place: A melting pot of all the best programs from previous operating systems before: watchful but fun, reckless but the melancholy tempered it out real nice. HIV positive - yeah, just can’t kick them freakin computer viruses! - But hey, what you gonna do? Do everything. Do it all. Revolution today: who knows what's gonna happen tomorrow. So JC 5.0 can't carry a tune in a bucket - we all have our flaws.

But recently JC 5.0 has been getting weary. The longest operating system I've used yet - 5 years. Not so much in the grand scheme of things. If you've been doing the math, you realized I'm either really old hardware or I upgrade my personality a lot. It's the latter. But after 5 years things get outdated. The world changes. Things happen. And if you don't upgrade your life, you'll become an antique - a museum piece. Something they bring tourists to look at and take pictures. JC 5.0 feels old.

I wrote a letter to myself when I was using operating system 3.0, a sort of rally cry to the future me, which of course I called operating system 5.0. I purposely hid this letter from myself for years. I recently found it and read it out loud to myself. I don't even remember writing the words. The letter ends like this:

"Lastly I just wanted to make a request of you JC 5.0: Whatever it is (you know, whatever is bothering you or making you upset and unsteady this week), just remember, all your life you've tried your best to do what's right. And I know you fucked up once and a while. Oh man did you fuck up. But you tried. And that's what counts in the end. So tonight, for me, just for old times sake, kick off your shoes, smile and sleep soundly brother. Sleep deep. However your death comes, welcome it with both hands raised high in thanks. "

In honor of the former me, I welcome what will come. New wardrobe, new role in life, new problems. Problems? I look forward to the problems. The new operating system will handle it the best way it knows how. As for 5.0? I do not fear the night. When I fall into the black abyss of former-consciousness, I will go through that dark door singing.