HELLO...I MUST BE GOING

Wow. 2008. What could be said about it?

I definitely started in a different place than where I was at now. At the start, I was a man with two jobs, a boyfriend with issues, and my writing to keep me warm. At the end, I...was still a man with two jobs (one new, one old), an ex-boyfriend with issues and a few more 'options,' and my writing as my lifeline.

So as I went into 2009, I needed to take stock of 2008.

A MAN WITH TWO JOBS

Yep. I started the year at Hotel S. I also worked at a supper club at Little Italy. My heart was really on one thing: the elusive dream of writing for a living.

Still that never stopped me from doing the best job that I could when I worked.

"Diego...you can go!"

I looked over at the manager. I frowned I had not been at work too long. While it was dead, I had worked at the supper club for at least an hour Still, I shrugged and headed out. I looked on the bright side and figured I could get stuff done.

Then it kept happening. Worse it would happen on days where it was busy. I didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what was going on.

Honestly, it appeared to be more of a California practice more than anything. If someone in management...usually higher management who never dealt with underlings so don't know a thing about their work ethic...decided not to like someone, that someone in management usually told the manager over the underlings to limit that hated person's hours. Eventually, the person's name would be there...with no hours.

For me, that took a month. And from there, it would take months to find a job to replace that.

To this day, I still don't know why that happened. I was a hard worker (if somewhat late). My co-workers and I had a great working relationship. I got along with management. So I knew if it came from higher management.

It made me realize something however. The dream was still alive. I would be a writer. And once I did, I would be setting my own hours.

I still worked at Hotel S. I added on a new job as a mail sorter. I motivated myself through them by keeping my eye on the prize: that writing job.

My shirts from the supper club job have made good pillow cushion.

EX-BOYFRIEND WITH ISSUES

At the start of the year, Kos and I were...not together. It was obvious there was caring on my end. But the truth was that Kos was in Moscow. What could be done about that?

And it was that train of thought that brought me to the end of February. In February, I...detached.

We attempted the friend route. He worked. I tried to fi9gure out what I was without him.

And since I was the Samantha Jones of my group, I attempted that route again. Misadventures ensued. They were fun, but empty.

It was into all of this that Brazil walked into my life. A free thinker, Brazil introduced me to new (and old) ways of thinking that shook up my way of living. I refound direction. I refound an independent self.

Kos hated him immediately.

Still...a friend was a friend. I loved being around Brazil. It was great to have someone who I had a lot in common. It was a safe place to get away from co-workers, crazy exes, and the like.

Then we slept together. Yes, it was done out of spite. It was done when we were drunk.

And it opened a floodgate that I'm still trying to close. I had always talked of my darkness that I hide from others. Kos ran from it. Brazil...embraced it. In fact, he went out of his way to get me to embrace this darker side to him.

Brazil got a boyfriend. I had conflicted feelings about it due to no outlet for what he opened up in me. While our time together was a brief one, it definitely left a mark.

Just as surprising was the day I threw the chair. Frenchman had told me he was leaving and not coming back. He kept talking about how he would be free and how much it was good for him. The more he talked, the more I wanted him to shut up. Then I exploded, throwing the chair far away from me.

"Diego, why you get angry?" Frenchman asked. "I--"

"It's...it's not fair," I spit out. "I...I can't deal with this. I...gotta go. This...this is too much."

I stumbled my hangover self out of Frenchman's apartment. And headed to work. I was determined to get the mail sorted.

Then I heard it.

It? Green Day's 'Time of Your Life.' I heard it. Then something clicked. My eyes watered...and wouldn't stop. I rushed to the restroom, sat on the toilet, and cried.

After work, I called James. To which James kept asking me the same thing.

"Diego, do you love him?"

To which I said, "No. I just don't want him to go. He's my closest friend here."

To which James said, "I know you, Diego. It wouldn't be the first time you fell for someone and not know it."

And James was right. I had done it before. But I was sure that it was the fact Frenchman was my closest friend.

I forgot one thing however.

James was always right.

***

New Year's was here. Since Kos was not here, my mind focused on the next best thing: Frenchman. If I could not be with the man I loved, I could at least be with the friend I trusted the most.

What followed was the stuff of misadventures. I caught Kos in a lie about his whereabouts, proving just how important I was to him. I clubhopped (and drunk) with complete abandon. I also caught Frenchman in a lie.

Frenchman? Lying? Really? Yes, really. He had said he did not want to go out, but I walked to Hotel S as he was heading out to party. After one person (Kos) had lied to me, I really could not stand someone I trusted doing it. However, it was New Year. I ignored it and partied with Frenchman and our friend Dork Boy anyway.

It wasn't until we had gotten shit-faced drunk, ordered a pizza, and sat in one of Hotel S's kitchens that the reason Frenchman had refused my offer to go and party together. As I ate some really good pepperoni pizza, my ears picked on one name: Brazil. I looked up.

"What did you just say?" I asked, looking at Frenchman with a confused look.

I knew where this would go. And sure enough it did. Like Kos, Frenchman also did not like Brazil. He went off about how Brazil had me wrapped around his finger like a yoyo. He constantly made this issue even when I told him that was not the case. And that night, Frenchman really went off like...he was jealous.

What I did not expect was his eyes narrowing on me. He looked pissed. then he went off on me about wanting to spend New Year's with him. It ended in him saying:

'I'm not your boyfriend!'

I frowned after hearing that. I did not see that coming. Was that what Frenchman thought?

'I know you're not my boyfriend," I said. "You're my friend. I wanted to be with my closest friend for New Year's. Is that so wrong? Is--'

Frenchman only shook his head. Then he pulled up his shirt, showing off the body we worked out so hard for him to get. He bragged about his muscle tone, challenging Dork Boi to punch him in the chest.

Meanwhile, I stared at him and Dork Boi playing around. Frenchman...in his drunken condition...sensed something between us. What did that mean? Especially since I did not know what or how I felt about what James said to me.

And what did this outburst say about Frenchman's feelings for me?

It was a question that continued to nag me the next day. I was in Hillcrest on the hunt for the glasses I lost on New Year's. As I gave up and got on the bus, I felt my phone vibrate in my pants. I looked at it to see it was Frenchman. It was funny since I was just thinking about our argument last night.

The conversation that followed was a weird one. He had invited me out the night before New Year's. After much begging from me, I went. And he was just an asshole that night. He talked to me about the rest of that night since I had stormed off earlier. How it turned out...apparently...made him want to ask questions about sexuality as well as our friendship.

I found the conversation so weird and uncomfortable, I made an excuse to get off the phone. I saw Kos on the other line so I took it.

As I entered 2009, the nature of my friendship with Frenchman had yet to be explored. And where I stood with Kos was still a big question mark.

WRITING AS LIFELINE

I finished NAKED EYES.

The majority of 2008 was spent on it, a novel about a man and his past and the dark secrets in a small college town. There was push and pull at times, but unlike my other novels, it flowed. I remembered annoucning it to my writer group and friends. Everyone was happy.

So...what next?

The rule of thumb with most writers was that after you finished a draft of a novel, the writer put the novel away somewhere. After some months, the writer reread it, editing it along. Then of course, there was the rewrite.

It was a rule that I did follow. NAKED EYES had not been touched the last few months. In that time, I had edited PICTURES OF A JADED BITCH for a rewrite, brainstormed ideas for columns and ALTERNATE SPIN, and pondered my next move.

One of my next moves was to apply for a writing job. It was something I always wanted to do. What I was not expecting was the waiting game.

As the waiting game turned into a game of cat and mouse, I found myself pondering. Most of my pondering was over the fact that I felt a longing to move to New York. Whether I was in New York or Los Angeles, my chances of writing jobs would be roughly the same I got the sense though that I would feel more comfortable there.

In any case, a person should not move anywhere unless that person had a job. Thus, I waited.

And waited.

And...waited.

Near the start of 2009, I finally got an email. Apparently...it was gonna be more...waiting. I sighed in disappointment. Back to the drawing board.

Or...was it? That was the question that occurred to me. I had these novels. All they needed was editing.

And all I needed was the one thing that was missing from most of the last few months of 2008: writing discipline. How far I've gotten has been due to me having it. Now I needed it back...with a hard edge dose of ambition.

'YOU THINK YOU...'

This week had been a week of pondering.

Around me had been a life full of changes. Both of my jobs were getting new computer systems, forcing me to get into a learning mode. I had taken down my webpage because I felt I had nothing to say. My men were going through changes in all of their lives, getting me to clarify what I thought of them. And a spark over Frenchman had lit into me, causing my writing side to reemerge.

In a way, I was scared of change. It made me like my character Daniel in DARKENED SOUL. A person however did not grow if they stayed in place. They embraced change.

And me? I'm game.

Diego


 

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