The Midnight Sun

Presenting...

My new blog! Not a whole lot different from the old blog, except you can now find it at themidnytsun.blogspot.com.

Your lips were like a red and ruby chalice, warmer than the summer night

The clouds were like an alabaster palace rising to a snowy height

Each star it's own aurora borealis, suddenly you held me tight

I could see the Midnight Sun

I can't explain the silver rain that found me - or was that a moonlight veil?

The music of the universe around me, or was that a nightingale?

And then your arms miraculously found me,suddenly the sky turned pale,

I could see the Midnight Sun

Was there such a night, it's a thrill I still don't quite believe,

But after you were gone, there was still some stardust on my sleeve

The flame of it may dwindle to an ember, and the stars forget to shine,

And we may see the meadow in December, icy white and crystalline

But oh my darling always I'll remember when your lips were close to mine

And we saw the Midnight Sun

Music by Lionel Hampton and Sonny Burke, lyrics by Johnny Mercer, sung by Ella Fitzgerald

This song encapsulates everything that I am and everything that I am searching for. THEMIDNYTSUN is perfect as my new alter ego.

Your Brista Thinkin' 'Bout Marriage

When I came out to myself at 26, I never thought it would happen.


When I came out to my father and sister on my 30th birthday, it still didn't seem like something that would happen in my lifetime.


Today it happened!


As of today, I live in a place (Washington, DC) where I, as a black gay man, can legally marry the partner of my choice.


Even though I don't have someone I am eying for that walk down the aisle just yet, it is still an awesome and wonderful reality and I feel happy and blessed.


Now it's time to find a man!

Happy Valentine's Day

I have had someone living with me, sleeping in my bed since September 1 and I don't think most of my friends know it. In the beginning, I didn't mention it because I didn't want to jinx the relationship, but now, well, not sure why. Maybe I'll figure it out as I am writing.

I met him in August, right before my cruise. We went out and had dinner and fooled around in the backseat of my car. After my cruise, we picked up right where we left off and I was feeling good.

He was going through some roommate drama, and so I told him he could move in for a minute in September. I had the extra room so it wasn't that big a deal to me at the time, as I assumed he would be moving out by the end of October at the latest.

It's funny how much you find out about someone when you live with them. Like how another person's sleep patterns and habits can totally annoy you. Like how someone ability to be comfortable in a filthy bathroom can piss you off (it's not like I am a neat freak, but I'M SAYIN!!!). And it's funny how all the things that annoy you about a person annoy you so much more when you aren't having sex regularly.

And there we have it, I am living with a guy who likes to sleep in my bed, and who says he finds me attractive, but who doesn't like to fuck. I have not really made this a big issue because I don't want to make it seem like he has give up the ass in exchange for a roof over his head, but in a way, he does! I know if someone let me live with them totally for free, the least I could do is have sex with him regularly, with a 3-4 times weekly dick sucking as a minimum.

All kidding aside, when you aren't having regular intimacy, that builds feelings of resentment and being used, so that even on the rare (very rare) occasions when the other person wants to do it, they get pushed away. Its like, oh now that you are in the mood, I am supposed to drop everything and perform.

Anyhoo, I decided that I wasn't going to do anything for him for Valentine's or even make any mention of it to him. So far, neither has he.

Back in January, I told him, as nicely as possible, that he needed to be out by March 1. Stay tuned to this blog to see how that goes.

Happy Valentine's Day, suckas!

Remembered... Pleasure?, part two

I have started and re-written this second part of the story several times, trying to figure out how to portray the narrative. The emotions involved require more than just a straightforward telling of the facts, and yet, I don't want to gloss over the reality of the situation with beautiful words and imagery, so once again, here goes nothing...

The next day, I picked him up from a pool party the next day, ready to pick up where we left off, and he was drunk and high. He had gotten totally fucked up and was hitting on our mutual friends. He correctly interpreted my stony silence and apologized profusely. I told him in no uncertain terms that while i was totally interested in him, we could just chalk it up to a good weekend and leave it at that. He apologized.

A single, deep, long kiss in front of Eric's apartment building, an exhaled "I'm sorry, Daddy," and all was forgiven.

Another wonderful kiss, more deep sharing of confidences. A perfect cap on the weekend and as he disappeared into the airport that Tuesday, my heart was happy and full.

The following Tuesday was September 11, 2001, my second day on a new job. As I watched the first tower fall, my thoughts were of him, and how he would soon be on his way to work for a bank in a highrise in downtown Los Angeles. I called him and made him promise me that he would not go to work that day.

I guess it was 5 or 6 months later that I got a call late one evening... "Daddy? I just got gay-bashed!" He was calling me, crying, from the hospital. I did my best to console him. i told him I would fly out the next day, but he said that he would be ok. I insisted, saying that he needed someone to protect him, to watch over him. He started to get mad, yelling at me that I couldn't protect him, I was in DC and he was in LA and he was on his own. There wasn't really anything I could say.

I was too young and too infatuated and too in love with the idea of being in love to see that a long distance relationship with an tragically beautiful and emotionally needy man with Daddy issues who was living his life at a much lower price point than I was would never work. I found out that he pretty much exclusively dated thuggish, gangster-looking types, which in LA meant real gang-bangers. Although I looked mean, i am certainly not a gangster or a thug and he was used to the phsysical and emotional drama that such relationships bring. He often manufactured things to be pissed off with me about. He once called me and got mad at me because he had to masturbate because I wasn't there to fuck him when he wanted to get fucked. It was draining, but still, I hung in there.

Two straws broke the camel's back.

He called me once, his voice pregnant with guilt. "I went to a party last a couple of weeks ago. This dude was there, he kind of reminded me of you and he said I was cute. He had a limo, Daddy, and we drove around all night. I'm sorry Daddy, but now he's all up in my video!" My VERY first thought was what the fuck does all up in my video mean, but my heart knew what it meant and it was breaking. Although he didn't say it, he had almost certainly had sex with this guy, which wasn't the worst part. By mutual agreement, we had agreed not to discuss any "activities" we had been involved in to scratch that itch. What hurt was that he felt that he had to tell me about this particular one, which meant, that more than just a momentary itch was scratched.

I asked him what he meant by all up in his video and what he intended to do about it. He said he didn't know, but that he was sorry. Sorry for what, he wouldn't say. It was a couple of weeks before Valentine's day. I had already bought a ticket to visit him in LA and made all these arrangements. Two weeks later, he hit me up online and casually mentioned that he was going to Palm Springs for Valentine's Day weekend. I was FLOORED. I asked him about our plans and he said he thought I was only talking hypothetically. I reminded him that I had emailed him the confirmation. He totally blew me off. At that point I was pretty much done, even though I hung in there until that Labor Day

So much more happened than that in the two years that we were "together." What hurt the most was the realization that I was obviously more in love with him that he was with me. What did that say about me that I allowed myself to be blinded to a fact that was obvious to everyone else?

Remembered... Pleasure?, part one

I have never written of this before because frankly it was too painful, but here goes nothing...

I met him Memorial Day Weekend 2001. I was still fresh off a weekend of whoring around and getting my life at Parliament House in Augusta, GA the previous month. He was with my friend Eric. He was wearing jeans and a sky blue jersey. He was short, brown-skinned and very very cute and he had an intensity about him that drew me in. We shook hands, the touch lingering a few seconds more than necessary for strangers meeting in a crowded room. We spoke of simple things and common interests, always managing to be near one another throughout the rest of the day.

An exhange of numbers, the promise of a date before he returned to Los Angeles...

He never called

I chalked it up to the normal flakiness of black gay men and didn't really give it any thought. Two weeks later, on a Friday, I get an IM at work: "I kicked myself every minute of the trip home for not calling you." It was him. He said he felt foolish, because he was into me from the moment I said hello. He thought it was crazy to be so into someone he had just met.

That night we talked until the battery on my cellphone died and then we talked some more until the battery on his cordless died and then, we talked some more until my cordless phone died. Somewhere during that conversation, he called me Daddy for the first time. I had always hated that word, because I felt it meant I was getting old, but falling from his lips, it was the sweetest melody I had ever heard.

For the next three weeks, we were as inseparable as two people could be (who lived on opposite coasts). We revealed everything about ourselves, the good, the bad and the ugly and still wanted to know more. Plans were made. I had to reveal to him that I planned to take a trip for the 4th of July to Tennessee to meet someone I had begun chatting with before I met him. He said that was fine, after all, we were just getting to know each other.

Well it wasn't fine.

When I got back, his attitude changed. He became defensive and argumentative. He accused my of cheating on him. In short, he became a crazy bitch. Hmmm... maybe there was a reason we lived on opposite coasts. He was dismissed.

Labor Day Weekend, 2001

The mutual friend, Eric, had a little soiree at his house and had invited both of us, unbeknownst to the other. When he saw me, I saw the shock register on his face. I had almost forgotten how beautiful he was. He came up and invited me into the hallway. The door closed behind us and there we were. I reached out to touch his face, stroking the contours of his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips. He whispered to me, please Daddy don't, even as he moved closer to me. I could feel his heart beating. We stood in silence for what must have been seconds and felt like glorious hours. And then he crossed the final barrier. He leaned up and kissed me. I kissed him back and we kissed each other. I had to have him.

On the ride back to my hotel room, we spoke again of inconsequential things, trying to fill in the 2-month gap that we didn't speak to each other. He asked me if I had heard Erykah Badu's second CD, "Mama's Gun." I said no, and he replied that there was a track on it that reminded him of me...

Many nights he was alone
Many, many many nights
His light was too bright
So they turned away
And he stood alone
Every night and every day
Then he turned to me
He saw his reflection in me
Then he smiled at me
When he turned to me
And he said to me
How Good It Is!

I'm an Orange Moon
I'm brighter than before
Brighter than ever before
I'm an Orange Moon
And I shine so bright
'Cuz I reflect the light
Of my Sun
Ohhhhhhhh
I praise the day
He turned my way
And smiled at me
He gets to smile and I
I get to be Orange
Like I like to be
How Good It Is!

You're the bright light Daddy and most people don't get you, but I'm your Orange Moon and I get you.

I literally had to pull the car over for a second to catch my breath. Was I dreaming? Did I finally meet someone who actually GOT me? I looked at him and he looked at me and there was no one else in the world. He interlocked him hand with mine and kissed it. He held it tight all the way back to the hotel.

Eddie Murphy makes a joke about fucking versus making love. Now, I had fucked many men, but that night was the first night I had ever made love to someone. It was beautiful and highly erotic, intimate, passionate, wild and freaky.

The next day, on the way back into the city, he said I turned him on because I knew all the words to Jay-Z's Hey Papi. He said he liked that thuggishness. Then the DJ switched it up a little bit...

And I can't believe it's real

Can't believe it's you

Can't believe it's happening

Can't believe it's you

And I can't believe that you are here with me

And I am here with you

Kissing you

He kissed me again right before getting out of the car and heading back to Eric's apartment. I went right out and bought Mama's Gun.

(to be continued)

My Testimony

11 years and one month ago, I had a revelation...

March 26, 1998

…the time has come for me to face the truth. I am gay. Those three words have been in the back of my mind since I was 14 years old, but until today, I could never say them, even to myself. This can't simply be a stage I'm going through, because stages don't last for 13 years. This realization does not bring me any particular sense of peace or well being, but a sense of loneliness because it throws into chaos all the plans I have for my life.

I don't like going to gay clubs and standing around listening to house music all night long. I think most drag queens have deep-seated emotional issues and I would never be caught dead making a fool of myself at a gay pride parade. Gay pride is a misnomer for my life. I am neither proud nor ashamed of it. It is just who I am.

I have never felt so lonely as when I am in a room full of gay men. I feel no kinship with them. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing that we have in common is our sexual desire for men (real men, not effeminate male women). Other than that I am a completely average Black male.

How did I get here? When I am honest with myself, I spent the last 13 years in a fantasy world called Soon. Soon was that completely tangible, yet totally unknown day in the not-to-distant future when this stage of my existence would end. I kept thinking it would come next week, or in a month, or next year, but definitely by the time I was 18 or 21 or 25 or 30. Until today, I was always certain that it would come. Soon.

But Soon never came and now it's time I stopped bullshitting myself. Soon hasn't shown up yet and it probably never will. What the fuck am I going to do now? Soon provided the sufficient fiction on which I based everything in my life.

I know that eventually I will come to terms with my life, my mission and my place in the world. But right now, I feel completely and utterly lost…

Jezebel's new home

My new car in front of my new house!
Originally uploaded by blkarkitect

Jezebel was feeling cold and lonelyin front of my apartment, so to make her feel better, I bought a house to park her in front of. Jezebel is so proud!

My new car!

My new car!
Originally uploaded by blkarkitect

Well, after 3 years without a working vehicle, I decided to treat myself to a new car for my birthday. Ladies, gentlemen and those who have yet to make a decision, meet Jezebel.