Just a running tab of my days going by.
4 January
Dreamhost moved my domains and lost (!) my recent posts for stevengfullwood.org. Tonight I will mediate on what this incarnation of the blog will be. This is what I wrote about the work in my essay, On 2010, my yearly wrap up of most all things Steven, Inc:
“After two designs, essentially two incarnations of the site, hundreds of entries, photographs, and links, coupled with a groundswell of national and international support, and an occasional Stevenite, I shut down stevengfullwood.org in 2008. Dramatic me thought the move was permanent. Felt like at the time. Listless, tongued tied and in complete mourning of my last relationship, I was not in the mood to share myself. In its first incarnation, the site helped me get my name out, express my views, interview folks, develop professional and personal relationships, post artwork, write my Dr. Dick column, inform folk about the BGLA, and promote Funny. During that time I tried on various personas, but mostly my black homo version of Oprah/Iyanla, the go-to-guy for advice, sometimes sexual with Dr. Dick. Photographer Donald Agarrat designed the first site, and it debuted in 2003. Three years later, in a rambling, barely coherent post, I bid everyone goodbye, and turned inward to deal with my post-breakup pains. About three months later, I had the site designed (out with the old, in with new) by two talented men living in Poland, and commenced blogging again with a post called “Don’t Call It a Comeback,” which I rather like.
This time, however, I was less revealing, intentionally oblique and not at all as gunho about letting my cyberspaces show as previously did. The new design represented a new start for me sans my ex, but a deep creative sleep was upon me and two years later I retired.
About two months ago one of my writer friends asked me to remove an interview I conducted with her on the site because she was being vetted for a government job and the interview was, ummm, fun but not the kind of humor that the U.S. government would appreciate. But the problem was this: there was an online archived blog.stevengfullwood.org that I could not update because it was not attached to WordPress. So I asked my web guys to upload a new version of WordPress in order to take care of it asap.
They did, and I removed the interview. To date I have posted twice (one post was lost by WordPress when they moved domains to another server), and added a page called “Random Diary,” and in one of the posts I talk about the shape of my silence as it related to my blogging (gone forever, thank you very much, WordPress!) 2003 is not 2010, and in that seven years ago, I was able to write pretty much what I wanted. Now that I am a representative of The Schomburg and Fire & Ink, two among a few, I have to be careful about what I say, and that pisses me off. Still, these are my investments and I treasure them, and will adhere to some semblance of professionalism and grace, while seeking creative, subversive ways to tell my story unfettered, most likely, offline.
On the road to the new stevengfullwood.org, I tried to initiate two blogspots, one called “Because I Need to Do This,” a site for my philosophical musings, has exactly one post. The other, “Archival Treasures,” I imagined to be my take on the world of archives and research where I would might post reference questions and share in the process of answering them. That blog also has only one post. Both sites are nearly dead, and will probably be folded into stevengfullwood.org. On another tip, I have yet to mine my site for the writing I’ve done over the years, which is only available via the site. An index is in order, geek work (hee-hee) for the archivist. Till then, I’ll work on blogging more regularly about whatever I choose–in brackets.
****
I’m interested in writing a piece about squandered genius. Still working out the architecture of the idea in my head. I know that I want to bust my head open about my own self-delusions and observations. I may also use people I know as examples. All in all, I hope it arrives a little more fully in my dream life.
****
14 February
Having an orgasm makes people a little bit more tolerable. The sun is shining and did I mention that having an orgasm makes people a little more tolerable?
Also, vacation is the greatest until it ends. Yark.
****
22 February
At home casting the runes. Just about over my post-vacation blues. I think all the white flour and sugar, alcohol and weed I consumed was well worth it. I love crashing. That’s when some good writing makes itself known and will let you touch and lick it. I so understand why folks drink and get high now. I can’t do either much because I am in an altered state most of the time and don’t need much to fall into the crevasse. And some alcohol tastes bad. It just plain sucks. BUt after any bout there’s the cleansing (cue the sounds of white angels). After the crash out come the broom and mop, Pine-sol and incense. My house right now looks great. Dishes are washed, my bedclothing is soft and warm, and the toilet is shining like it went to the dentist. Something about waking up in a clean house energizes the senses. Feels good in the heart. A great ending to a week of trying to get back into my body from vacation and eating like a goofy 20-something.
I’m also writing and reading and watching videos. Considering abandoning, in great fashion, a project that I am not particularly wedded to, or remotely interested in. If I could really let loose in it then I’ll stay on and try to get at the gold. We’ll see in a few days, but I am packing a suitcase, just in case. Case, suitcase. Case dismissed. Catch a case. Case and point.
Because I have done so in the past, and it didn’t really work out in my favor, I have made it a policy to never identify anyone anymore on this site, particularly anyone who might amorous feelings for me, or even those harboring unamorous feelings for me. Letting so much of myself go out because I wanted some cyber attention wasn’t the best decision, but, well, there you go. So if you read this and think it’s you or someone you know, fine, great. That’s what the imagination’s for. Or just ask me in so-called “real-time.”
Not sure why this one guy keeps me in his crosshairs. Saw him this weekend in passing while I was out doing my talk think thing as brain and glimpse of skin and public jerk, and again, not getting check at the end of the event. Not pleased about that. I hate chasing checks. Not happy.
Anyway, this guy is attractive, funny and smart. Takes me in with eyes. Flirty. To be sure, I was hot this weekend, so I could understand the attention. When I’m on, I’m on. Sexual tension flints between us, I think. Maybe I am imagining it. I wouldn’t put it past me. Whatever it is, it feels fun. Still, I’mma make him wait. I got all the fucking time in the world and right now is not the best time to get me. I don’t feel like I am all here, really. I am sensitive, so nerve endings and howling naked, currently dancing to some long gone song. I am completely perplexed about how to proceed with the human race, or even myself when it comes to truthspeaking. And I won’t get in to it here, but everything I want I get and so I have to be careful about what it is I broadcast into the multi-verse. 44 me’s seek satisfaction and so that’s a lot of mouths to feed. To be sure I will describe what I call my multi-attentions, and my lack of loyalty to most things, even myself, in detail much later.
Besides Mr. Man there are a couple of others, too, lurking. Sniffing around my tail, barking, tongues wagging. What the hell could they want? This yellow is rental and it’s a lie. I have no special powers and I like sleeping alone. And it’s true, I am an asshole. Then there are my desires, perky and bouncing like buxom cheerleaders waiting to scream and get laid at the end of the game. It’s hard for me to think about what I need from another homo right now. Maybe a flamethrower, something to burn away the brush gathered around my town in the desert. Someone to laugh with me at the nonsense we call society. Maybe a good kisser. Perhaps two or three kissers so I won’t get bored. As I write this, I am getting on my own nerves.
Stuff I need to write about:
my virtual life.
the curling under.
border jumping.
Just finished reading “Queer” by William S. Burroughs, and I will write and post my review of it shortly.
****
7 March 2011
Man talk
Mr. Sensitive Flower at The Hanger. Went on a date in 2006, I forgot. He said he was offended by my sex talk. Felt like a piece of meat. He may have been right. I have tendency to fill the air with sex talk if that’s the point. 6’0, brown skinned, jock-type. Doesn’t talk much, or offer much when he talks. I apologized and said I’d take him on a proper date, where we can have a proper dinner, while looking out a proper window at some proper trees. I was slightly high and wanted to fuck with him, but not sexually anymore. My turn to be sensitive.
African prince from a country in Africa. Befriendred me a while ago. Has a lot of male friends with their shirts off. Hits me up on FB the other day. Tells me he’s a prince. I ask what does a prince do. He has a business. Asks me how old I am. I tell him. I ask is he married. He says yes. When I ask him why he hit me up, he terminates the conversation.
More to come.