The Gay Mans Guide to a Hurricane

The Gay Mans Guide to a Hurricane

A Guest Blog By: Kid Kelvin Carney

I have only known two ladies by the name of Sandy, the first is a scruffy companion to the a little curly red-haired girl named Annie. The second was this Australian broad that fell in love with some bloke Danny. 

Now rumor is that the next one I get to meet is going to be a real bitch, on her super period. I am hoping she is wearing a super maxi pad cause this is going to be her heavy flow days. How do you deal with a problem like Sandy?

Lighting

Don’t get your average handy man flashlight, the one I picked up has a red light going on, a little mood lighting if you will. The second source is normally as boring as candle, but gay men just don’t do that. Pick one up with a little scent and flavor, these are multi-functional, see if the power goes out and you can’t wash your butt, a nice Yankee Candle will hide your stench.

Cleanliness

Keeping you butt clean should be a main concern. You can fill up your tub with water and use that to clean up your pits, but there are also these handy dandy flushable wipes to help clean your man parts spic and span. 

Food

They say to get non-perishable items during the storm of the century, but lets be real there are too many carbs in those. Get yourself some fresh fruit and veggies, but don’t forget about all those frozen veggies in the freezer. Once the power goes out take those out, once defrosted, you get to take a trip down the vegan highway. Also buy some eggs and boil them for a great source of protein. Now every girl needs atleast a few carbs in her life, I suggest getting some bagels for a morning treat, dry cereal, and some chips. You will need these for the party you are about to have.

Drinks

Get some bottled water, sparkling if you like. Although the water is important the real issue should be you alcohol shortage. If you like beer, stay away from it during these hard times! If you lose power, it will get warm and all skunky. Get some wine, vodka, bourbon, whiskey. If you are like me and forgot to get a mixer for your vodka, there is a quick fix. Boil some water, tie 4 tea bags to a skewer and steep. Once cooled this will serve as a perfect mixer for the dark nights ahead.

Lastly, we cannot forget the Entertainment!

If you are like me, you have tons of technology. Make sure you get your laptop charged up. This can be used to watch movies, all kinds if you catch my drift. Your kindle or e-reader, we need to use every chance we have to keep ahead of the hetero-sexual curve.  Camera, there are always opportunities for a great shot. I-Pad or another tablet to watch movies, listen to music, or use as extra lighting.

What is real life?

What I wanted to say after reading a strangers profile: I'm all for feminism, I'm cool with that, really. I'm just not so into, the whole, "non-conformist" ~ conformist ~ Can't take a joke, half-assed, lady plastic, butch wannabe, who I'd bet money, wouldn't hold a door open for her mother, Because "ya know women's rights and all." Your 27, life's been so hard on you, you've seen the world, you've been judged by your outside appearance and you're actually offended that you even have a gender. Really, tell me more about how you really have it hard and how you're getting you're Doctorate and you don't know what you want to do with your life but you know what everyone else should do with theirs. News flash, no one does and you are a pretentious attention whore...(sincerely, the blogger with too many ideas on what to do with my life.)
What I said instead: Nothing
What if people actually said things like that to one another? "Hey I know I've never once met you, but, you present like an asshole on the interwebs, is that really who you are? Wait no, stop typing, with all your education you should know, that was a rhetorical question. Of course you're really an asshole. I'm talking to you and I have great radar for you're kind. You've been identified I'm reporting you to the board, It's ok they work wonders , they'll have you behaving like less of a douche in no time. If you get really lucky people will even start taking you seriously.
Or, on the flip side, what if people saw something amazing and instead of saying nothing they said "Hey, I know we don't know each other but, I have zebra sheets. I like the way you say my name and right now that's all either of us needs to know. Lets go be random together.
Clearly there's no Board of Douchebag Rehabilitation or BDR (pronounced "Better" for giggles and shits), but wouldn't that be a different world. Checking your privilege is a privilege of the over-privileged by its very nature.What person trying to claw their way to respect or equality or even just appreciation  has the time to sit around being offended by life and culture and society?
As I prepare for a winter of doing everything I can to ensure I'm making shit happen and moving forward. I cannot help but wonder how it is that more of the world is not wiped out by spontaneous combustion just for thinking about half the things I think about, and then I realize I must have way too much time on my hands, if this is what I'm thinking about when I could be bettering myself. There is a grand difference between offended and irate. History gives us a clear impression of how the power of a true purity of the irate, can demolish the delicate senselessness of the offended every time. Life is precious and I have zebra sheets, art on my walls, and a bucket list that must be completed to reach the next level. Lets go be random together. Until I get irate, I'm, not offended easily, unless you call me white, or straight or well adjusted, or nice or...

What do you believe in said the joker to the thief...

I believe in Unicorns, I know, I do, you're thinkin what is this crazy bitch talkin about this time. Just try and stay with me I'll explain. Unicorns are the most magical creatures of all time, mythical, mysterious and possibly, maybe, not even real. That doesn't stop me from believing, people believe in all sorts of crazy, so I see no reason why I can't believe in Unicorns. At times I try to give up this ridiculous belief and convince myself adults live in reality and well, clearly Unicorns aren't real. Something happens, a kid does something incredibly beautiful to my refrigerator, a really nice person holds a door open after a terrible day, I walk into a restaurant and the sign is about Unicorns (or cake, or both) and I'm snapped back into hoping and believing.
              Its not just about the magical, mystical, horned creatures we all think of when someone says the word Unicorn. I mean hell yes, I'm all about those too, but there's an even more ridiculous part. Little girls are started on a steady diet of princess fairy tales, in one way or another from birth. I guess I needed something more magical than a prince and more attractive than a frog and the unicorn was born. They're the happy place that gets me through the worst of times. The one that told me to go home, when I'm 15, I ran away and I'm contemplating sleeping in a stairwell, like a dumbass. The one that picked up the phone and listened and told me I'd be fine, that first real night of driving a big truck, with a trainer who at the time scared the crap out of me, crying like a little bitch. The one I'd let sleep on a couch I don't even have and the one I'm glad got away. The people who've actually seen me, all of me, even if only for a second and gave me enough hope to hold on through whatever crappy thing had happened or was on the way. People don't realize the impact they have on you and it's so rare in our time, that we tell each other. There are not enough Unicorns in anyone's life these days, not enough magic and not enough hope. I expect so much of myself and yes, I have expectations of the people around me to be decent people, and yes, my moral fiber and honor code may be somewhat demented, but more important than any expectation, I hope. I hope and I believe that  the very best people I meet in life become the people they were meant to be. There are few things that would stop us in our tracks, outside of an insane emergency or an alien landing, but a Unicorn, a horned horse, a person doesn't keep moving for that. They'd miss all the magic.
                   Someone once told me that eye contact with a stranger meant there was some kind of a connection, that you should speak to that person. Basically that there was a reason for it. I don't know if I ever believed that but, I do believe shit happens for a reason. Who's reason? Fuck if I know, I don't think its God or some higher power, not sure its destiny, I kinda think that's a stretch, but I think there is some order to the chaos and disarray that is life. Not that it will always make sense, or be pleasant, or enjoyable, I just believe all the parts of our lives good and bad serve a purpose. I've got a million stories of really good times, trucker stories, house stories, NBJ stories, happy stories, sad stories but my favorite stories, the stories I rarely if ever tell, are the stories of Unicorns at their most beautiful moments. Everyone needs a light in the sky sometimes, a little Saint Elmos Fire to help them get by, a beautiful distraction from a harsh reality, hope. There are many people that sit at my table and they are all magically inclined, I can even levitate phones myself, but I sure as hell don't even hold a candle to the few Unicorns I've been lucky enough to invite for dinner. Hope is believing in magic, believing that what you see is really there, or really happening because some really talented mind trickster magician made it real, even if you think you know how he did it. Its magic, and you can't do it. I have hope, because I am not magic. I'm not a Unicorn, I'm a mess, a mess who can finally keep a plant alive(small personal victory), but still a mess, so I keep hoping and believing in creatures and people I see as inspiring and amazing because those are the fairy tales and people that keep me from giving up every time. Hope is why I believe in Unicorns even if it is the dumbest thing any one, ever, heard.

A House and a Harley on the moon...

When we were kids my Grandmother used to send us looking for rocks for this rock garden she was going to create in the back yard. I can't recall ever seeing my Grandmother do more than receive and water plants, nor did she ever create a rock garden. As a kid my fathers mother could do no wrong as an adult I think for her, watching us collect her rocks might have been something like a small scale version of the Egyptians and the slaves. She didn't treat us badly, she simply manipulated us into thinking we were building something beautiful. The rocks were probably still in the corner of the yard in milk crates when she sold that house.The lessons I learned from the Queen of Cards, heavy as those rocks but in their own way far more beautiful than any garden. She was poison dressed in chocolate, the dark kind, bitter and sweet, and dark as night. She was a lovely kind of cruel and like anyone I have my doubts that any 2 people really knew her the same. While she was dying I went through every picture book I could find, among the hundreds of old pictures I barely found ten where she was smiling, really smiling, before retirement. Even when she did start smiling, somewhere around 45 or 50 and the majority of those pictures where she is smiling, she was anywhere but here.

I've done so much of my smiling here and a little there and a whole lot of everywhere. I have so much smiling left to go and I wonder so many things about what my pictures will say to whoever goes through them when I die. I hope whoever gets that job gets a kick out of it all and I hope they knew me, all of me. Some where in the future there is someone who knows me inside and out, who I've told all of myself to and who will be there to go through the rough spots with me. My Grandmother was a few different people, to a few different people and to each she gave and was a different part of all of her.

Over these past few weeks of doctors appointments and politics and employment changes and just plain living, I've been forgetting and re-living and realizing so many new things about who I am and what I've come from. I'm not sure of anything but I am sure Its time to grow up. Not become some one else or anything, just a more adult version of myself, this will be an interesting ride, a strange new internal adventure. No one really knows how and when this adulthood and appointments and politics and money making really became the cornerstones of their lives. I submit that for some of us those stones were always there, for others of us they were a long time coming or a short time coming but we got there and for a few they will never be there.

A year from now I have goals and like all the ones that came before, I have no idea where they'll lead me. For the first time in a long time, I have goals, the broken winged dreams are flyin around again and makin a ruckus. For the second time in a lifetime I am ready to start checking things off of my list. Debts paid, lets do this, stay in the same home for a while, ok sure lets do that too, Money in savings, Car paid off, I'd love too. Work out every day, eat healthy be healthy, LIVE, hell yea, great idea. None of these goals are impossible, none of them outlandish or radical. They're reasonable, possibly even rational, maybe not so simple but all attainable.I am many different people, too many different people, but eventually I always get where I'm going. I smile because I love the people in my life, I smile because I'm taking a mental picture of the beautiful moments that are my life, and I smile because it confuses the hell out of strangers and friends alike. I am not always smiling and to some, I'm never smiling but to those who know me, really know me, I am exactly who I always was.

Who the fuck are you?

Two boats and a Tarantino film in the making...

There's a story, or maybe its a joke, my mom tells. I'm probably going to butcher it, I'll do my best not to, but since I'm telling it I'm also gonna do it my way...

A man is on a roof after a bad storm because his city had flooded, he's praying for god (or as I call him Jeebus), to save him, and a boat comes by. The people in the boat say "Hey, Guy, jump down get in, lets go!" The man say's "No, it's cool you don't have much room in there, I'll be ok, save some women and children and such. God Jeebus will save me!" The folks in the boat argue a bit but eventually say ok and move on. The water is still rising and the man is still prayin on the roof when the next boat comes by. They have a few seats and the waters so high he can walk right in off the roof. Once again the people in the boat invite him in and once more the man says "No, Jeebus will save me!", and the boat floats on. Now it's getting dark and the man is clinging close to the chimney as the waters continue to rise, he hears a loud noise coming closer and then out of the sky, directly above him comes a bright light, its a bird, its a plane, JEEBUS HIMSELF? Nope a helicopter, from wich a rope ladder drops and a man on a microphone yells, "Hey, Hey you there, on the chimney, in the red suit, with the white trim, grab the ladder,you'll drown down there! GET TO THE CHOPPA, ITS THE ONLY WAY OOOOOUUUUT." The man clings tighter to the chimney shaking his head no and yelling something about some guy by the name Jeebus coming to pick him up with some other guy named Rudolph. Finally the copter has to go, and they do, leaving the crazy man to drown on the chimney.
The man gets to heaven after some screaming and flailing and demands to see god. God says to herself, and all the Angels, ~Well, this, I have got to hear, send this dude in. She nudges the Angel to her right and says watch this, and turns herself into Samuel L. Jackson, cuz come on what's not funny about that! The man looks at her and like a true american says, "God, Jeebus, I knew you were black! Seriously though? What the fuck? Why have you forsaken me? Why did you let me drown out there?!!!?" With this, God stands, laughing, she holds his face in her hands and says, as only Samuel L. Jackson could, "MOTHAFUCKA, I sent you TWO  BOATS and a mothafuckin HELICOPTER, If you think I was gettin in that water myself, you were sadly mistaken. I don't fuckin swim!" She laughs and the angels laugh and she hugs the man and they all laugh and eat cake and that's that.

 I guess the point is different in some way for every circumstance and every person. I mean I'm not much for Jeebus but I can definitely appreciate more and more as I grow, how important it is to keep your eyes and mind open. If at any point the man had thought outside the box of his expectation, he might not have drowned. Life  changes every day. We make decisions based on expectations, based on lies, lies other people tell us, lies we tell ourselves. That man told himself god would save him, to the point he actually believed the sky would open and god would carry him to dry ground. Instead he got a prankster in the sky. It wasn't what he expected. The boats, the helicopter he didn't accept those and he didn't expect to see the pearly gates or Mr Jackson that day, but shit happens. If he'd had the chance for a do over, I bet the man would have hopped right in the first boat, said thanks, and been livin high off the insurance money to a ripe old age. But life is short, we don't always get second chances and I'd rather see Tarantino do a short film of my AMAZING version of this story. My point? If ya miss the boat, please for Sams sake, get to the choppa people, it's the only way out!

Discovering the religion of ink and the importance of 2 wings.

I was 18 when I got my first tattoo, I wanted a phoenix, so I got one. It was the beginning of a healing that will probably be a lifelong work in progress. The asshole I was with at the time hated the idea, it was against his religion. As was sex, drugs and rock and roll, more or less, I was against his religion. The tongue ring I got earlier in that relationship, while he made fun of my slurred speech the first few weeks, he thoroughly approved of, but the tattoo was sure to cause a fight. By this time in the relationship I knew it would be ending soon and maybe this was my way to celebrate the best decision of my life, maybe I was just looking to start the end with a clear message. I guess it really doesn't matter but to this day it is one of my favorites. I picked it out of a book of flash and asked the artist to make a few changes, a good friend was with me and I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd seen friends get tattoos and watched my father get work done. I remember sitting in the chair hearing the buzz as it was about to begin and focusing on the Alice Cooper poster. I sat as still as I possibly could and focused on the poster, a few times I know I thought about how pissed the asshole was going to be and cracked a smile. I remember thinking I'm gonna be ok and breathing more calmly and freely than I had in months before that piece in time and at one point I remember the artist asking me if I was breathing. I just laughed and said yes. I had never felt as free and sure of myself and relaxed as I did that day, in that chair, knowing I was going my own way. Among the many things the asshole had told me I would never do a tattoo had been one of my earliest concessions. My tattoos since then each have stories of their own, I've got alot of eyes watching over me and plenty of thoughts for the empty spaces but that one is the closest to my heart.

I am learning to expect less of people I love who haven't lived my life. I am learning slowly that everyone believes they understand and while some people do, most don't. You cannot fully explain to anyone who hasn't lived it what it is like to wake up with someone licking your face, holding you down with his dick inside you. I mean clearly, I've just described it but that doesn't mean you know or understand what its like to crawl back inside yourself and watch this happen to you from some outside level of existance. You may have an idea what its like to pretend your asleep but I have my doubts that the majority of people know the thoughts that go through someones head while they allow someone to do this while they simply lie there and play dead so to minimize the other persons enjoyment and keep from having to open their eyes to the reality of that nightly nightmare. While there are plenty of people who can relate and plenty of people who do actually understand, they are not concentrated to only eachother, they don't flock solely to eachother and even when they do they rarely break out the skeletons that feed their sadness.

The worst things that have happened to us make us the strongest and teach us the most and what that time in my life continues to teach me is that I am stronger than the worst things to come my way. I will always come back stronger from the things that hurt the most and it's that knowledge that means the difference between laying down and getting back up. I've had a broken wing and maybe thats part of why I don't fly straight but every break must heal. The people in my life who need justifications and continual explanations of my feelings and actions this long after the fact. These are the same people who look in the mirror too long and still can't see themselves. These are the same people who say I understand, but..., and these are the people I can't keep fighting to keep in my life simply because I love them. When I open my closet and count my skeletons I am the one who has the memories flood back and anyone who wants to step inside my head and dig around my closet had better be ready to see the grass burning. No two people honestly have the same vision of what hell is, for me, it was a long time ago and I'm not goin back. I will never respect any group, religion person or idea that could send another person home to tell the person they "love" that they are going to hell for having sex and then rape them 6 hours later on a regular basis. I can respect myself enough not to keep company with people I don't respect and I can love myself enough to not continue to give people power they don't deserve. I may not respect those people who I feel had a chance to help but I don't hate them, I more or less feel sad that they believe they were helping while they were actually fueling the actions of a sociopath.

There has been a shift over the last few years in my outlook on my past and I really have no desire to continue dredging the waters just to bring up more pain. There is a place where you realize now is far more pertinent than then. Some asshole told me once I'd never go to college, drive trucks, go to broadcasting school, drink, be with a girl, get a tattoo, see my Goddaughter and a few other things. I have no idea what that piece of shit is doing right now, but I do know in ten years I've done all the things he said I wouldn't except one and I'm pretty sure the naked lady on my leg and I get to be proud of that. No apologies, no regrets.

What about the children?

Over the years I've been asked countless times by new friends and even a few strangers if my parents are still together. With the places and adventures I've had, a good amount of these people were truckers and southerners amazed at the idea of a biracial couple surviving the daily criticism and social taboo of race mixing. Here in the northeast, now in 2012, it is fairly commonplace. We don't think about it, we don't dwell on it, it is what it is. We tend to take for granted the idea that people of a different color can and do flock together, make lives, car payments, cake, babies, love, together. By choice, by ignorance, by accident, we forget that the urge to share and partner and copulate with someone other than ourselves is as natural as our skin or the sex parts we happen to be born with. We go about our daily lives thinking our struggle is so much harder than those that came before us. We live blind to the experiences that put the person next to us wherever we may be. We don't ask eachother to share our life stories by a fireside and we don't really want to know. Unless you're like me and you do, sometimes, and so you ask. Four in five times that will get a long drawn out story about some shit you didn't expect nor did you really want to know. One in five times you get suprised with awesomeness and that is worth the risk. Mostly. My family is larger than my bloodline might have you think and my past is littered with judgements from inside and outside of that family, but I am ever impressed by my parents ability to give their children the best tools to survive the choppy waters and hard questions and looks from those without the sense to see past their skin and our burnt sienna crayons.
About a year maybe two, before she died, my Grandmother and I were discussing a news story about a lesbian couple in wich the Butch or more masculine of the couple was carrying their child because hir partner could not. To me this was the ultimate act of love and a beautiful selfless thing. To my Grandmother this was, at best, an abomination. In a heated arguement with a dying woman I quickly realized how hard my parents must have had it and how fortunate my sibling and I had been to even be alive. She said with the disapproving tone and I quote, " The poor children".Her stance (summerized) was that the parents would be different and so the children would be different and their lives would all be hell. She felt this was fine for the parents but they should not bring children into a world they could not assimilate to.  At wich point I lost it. Yes, with an elderly dying woman, I lost my shit and soon uncovered a truth I spent my life choosing to bury in the arsenal of dirt I knew about my Grandmother. "Grandmother, I am the children of differentMy life is not hell, hard at times but that has made me stronger. There is nothing wrong with different, my life is not hell, hard at times but that has made me stronger. There is nothing wrong with different, I am different, I am proud of that and what you're saying is that my parents should not have had us..." 

How much deeper and farther that conversation cut is between me and a dead women but the point is my parents love eachother just as that couple loved eachother. As one of three products of that love I will always be thankful that my parents dared to be different, before it was commonplace, before it didn't matter so much. Love is not an easy thing under the best of circumstances, it doesn't bend to appease the masses or adjust for optimal comfort, but it does give us the chance to grow and learn and become better with the help of a good partner.

I am black and I am white, I was not stolen or adopted, I am weird, I am different and my mommy and daddy love the hell out of me and I them. Happy 32nd Anniversary to the white lady and black guy also known as Mothadear and Papabear that made me. Thanks for turning out ok.