“Listen, stay in the moment, DO IT!”

I kept telling myself that little mantra most of the day yesterday. Like last Wednesday I planned on doing some improv with Bryan and Erin, however this time I refused to suck. Part of my problem is that I’m never in the moment, which is of course hindering my listening. I was determined to get up there, listen and focus on the particulars of the scene. “Listening is reacting, reacting is acting,” is what one of the more talented performers said to me. Part of my problem is that I’m never allowing myself to react, instead of listening I’m planning what I’ll do next, what funny thing I might say.

Last night I listened and reacted, in return we got a few laughs. For the first time I felt confident up on stage, it felt right. My decision to pursue comedy is not just another lackluster pursuit, it’s legitimate and real. Nothing I’ve done in the past few years has made me feel the way I feel when I’m doing comedy. This just feels right.

I wish I could more eloquently describe my excitement at this very moment. Let’s just say that nothing can rain on my parade today, nothing! Unless I lose my temp job, that might put a kink in my day. Or even worse, I lose my temp job and find out I had herpes, now that would be a downer. Or what if I got home tonight really looking forward to a lovely chicken dinner only to discover that I didn’t thaw out the chicken and it’s just too frozen to cook properly. Okay, I guess that wouldn’t be so bad, but it would be upsetting.

A presidential campaign is like nothing you can even imagine. The sheer energy of the day to day happenings of something that large in scale is mind blowing. At times it can be exhausting, but at the end of the day (after most people have already gone to bed), you sit around with your fellow campaigners and talk about why whomever you’re working for will be the best leader, and why the other guy stinks. Everyone’s an “insider” in presidential campaigns, for everybody talks as if they have the ear of the candidate, even if they’ve never met him (or hopefully one day, her). But that false pretense is excepted in the world of presidential politics, for it’s the mark of a candidate that has inspired a particular group of people to give up their regular lives and join up for a wild and wonderful ride.

In 2004 I joined the General Wesley Clark for President campaign. I arrived in Manchester, New Hampshire knowing very few people. As soon as I arrived at the office I quickly jumped in, headed to a rally where the filmmaker Michael Moore was about to give a speech for the General, whom also would attend. I sat in that high school auditorium amazed, “Am I really here doing this?” Over the next few weeks I traveled with the campaign, eventually earning my “insider” badge just because I knew a couple of names and had met a few higher ups. After the campaign ended I traveled back to Chicago, sat in the back of the cab and thought, “It went so fast, but it was worth it.”

After that I worked in politics on a regular basis until the end of 2005, when I had officially burnt out. Nothing could compare to the Clark campaign, it was an experience like none other. I told myself that I was through with politics, I need a life (something a political career just cannot offer). Instead I shifted my attention towards event planning, settled in on a nice existence with more free time, opportunities to be creative and all in all a much calmer life. I must admit, I rather enjoy it.

This morning, as I was hopping along on my way to the subway, I thought, “Would I want to join a presidential campaign for 2008?” The idea never really occurred to me before, I thought I had settled on the fact that I was through with politics. My schedule permits it as does my life, I have no real responsibilities to speak of and no job holding me back. And when I say I left politics do I mean your average campaign in the average politic world or do I mean it all, presidential campaigns in tow? Is a presidential campaign above the fray of your average political campaign? Am I willing to give up my life again? I guess these are questions I need to ask myself over the next year.

You’re probably wondering who I would want to work for. I’ve got to admit, I’m not sure. Ones that stand out are Clinton, Evan Bayh, Al Gore and Barack Obama. They all inspire me, but would they give me a job? Would I sleep on the floor in a freezing house in Manchester, New Hampshire for one of them, or drive through the New York mountains in a snow storm? I’m not sure, time will tell.

A change is a blowin through people, I feel it in my bones.

Foods consumed between 9:00 AM and 11:30 AM.
- A bowl of oatmeal (with a touch of cinnamon, brown sugar and splenda)
- Orange juice
- A cup of vanilla yogurt with granola mixed in
- Half a box of Frosted Mini-Wheat’s
- Two slices of pumpkin bread
- Coffee
- Water

HOW’D THAT HAPPEN???

I’m officially at a breaking point when it comes to food. For the better part of this past year I’ve been eating sugar free this, low fat that and no carb bullshit just so that I could be slimmer then I have ever been in my life. I did not lose weight unhealthily, I ate the proper amount of food guidelined by the food pyramid, I incorporated 30 to 60 minutes of exercise everyday and started a vitamin regimen. Now that I’m down to a comfortable size I’m trying to figure out how I can add “normal” foods into my daily diet.

I’ve never been successful at moderation, that’s how I became an overweight, pack a day smoker. All or nothing, no questions asked, that was just the way it was. Why have one sandwich when it’s just as easy to make two? The $0.99 cent bag of potato chips is meant for one person, not a serving size of three like the bag says! Everyone knows cheese is dairy, and we need dairy, so there’s nothing wrong with eating half a thing of Velvetta cheese.

My peak weight was 255 lbs, my waist size was 44 inches. I wouldn’t say I was unhappy, I ate whatever I wanted, had a wonderful family and beautiful friends. Of course late at night, after eating a couple bowls of cereal and a sandwich, I’d feel a little guilty. I’d ask myself, “Why can’t I stop eating? I’m not hungry yet all I want to do is eat.” I’d keep asking myself these questions without ever figuring out the answer.

I knew I had an eating disorder, but not the cool ones like anorexia and bulimia. Nobody goes around saying they’re a binge eater. Can you imagine if they made an after school special about binge eating? Or wrote a play about it? Of course not, because binge eating isn’t chic, the people who do it aren’t skinny and thus aren’t worth the time.

I still struggle with binge eating (for example, what I’ve eaten today), but I counter it with exercise. The one thing I have learned is that I just can’t think too much about it all, I just need to continue to eat what the Food Pyramid tells me to eat, not kill myself emotionally if I do overeat and continue to work out. I’m settling on the fact that I will never truly be skinny, I just love food too much. But what’s wrong with that?

I’m now 170 lbs with a 34 inch waist. I’m almost happy with myself, or at least on the right road. And one day, maybe, I’ll be able to eat without thinking about what I’m eating, the calories that are in it and how I’m going to work it off. I’m proud of what I’ve done, now I’ve just got to figure out how to keep it going.

In the meantime, there’s a banana with my name on it! Mmmmm, I do love me some bananas!

It’s a beautiful morning in Brooklyn, NY. The sun is shining, there’s a nippiness to the air and the wind is blowing the tree outside my window like mad, woosh woosh. The apartment is quiet, everybody else won’t wake until at least noon. Even my kitties haven’t woken yet, but honestly they don’t ever wake up. I’m somewhat jealous of their existence. I wish I could just eat, sleep and poop, nothing more, that would be the life.

Every morning I eat the same breakfast. I make some oatmeal (plain), put a little brown sugar on it and then top it off with a hint of cinnamon. I pour myself a cup of orange juice and put a banana in my pocket, gotta have an after breakfast treat! I’m a master of routine, I find comfort in doing the same things, day in and out. Sure occasionally I’ll opt for cold cereal instead of oatmeal, but my day is gonna suck then, I accept that thought from the start.

The shower is a sacred place for me, I love it so. Typically I’m freezing in the morning (I like my room to be cold so that I can snuggle during the night), so that bolt of hot water hitting me is like a blanket wrapping around my body. I don’t know what Freud or Jung would say about my enjoyment in the idea of covering up, snuggling myself. Could it be that I’m still longing for the love of my mother (I feel I’m doing alright there), or could it be something more? I ask myself these questions while in the show.

I look down at my body and feel proud, I’ve lost a tremendous amount of weight. Then I grab the excess skin that hangs from my body. What most people who have never been obese and then lost weight don’t realize is that, because I was so large my skin had to stretch with me, but when I lost the weight the skin couldn’t quite keep up, thus resulting in excess skin. Standing up I’m fine, and when I lay down it all spreads out, but if you caught me leaning over somebody naked, hmm, frankly I’d probably blow a few chunks. But nonetheless, I’m proud of what I’ve done. I’d rather have excess skin then be fat, that’s for sure.

My towel smells like cat piss, the little shits. My cats have a tendency to enjoy peeing on the towels in the bathroom. I look around wondering just what will I dry myself off on. I come across the shirt I slept in. You’d be amazed and how soggy a t-shirt gets when it’s used as a towel.

In my room I rummage through my clothes to find something to wear. I’m limited in my options because of the weight loss. I cannot afford to go out and buy all new clothes but I also refuse to wear my old, baggy clothes. Instead I’ll just wear a variation on the same thing I always wear, jeans, t-shirt and a black, v-neck sweater. Simple, classic and truly an original; not a bad staple outfit if I do say so myself.

Routines, some people hate them. If I didn’t have one I’d probably go mad. Last night I saw the film Running with Scissors (I’ll write about that later), Augusten Burroughs comments after realizing that he has fucked up life is that all he wants is a little structure, maybe discipline. It’s amazing how a little routine can turn a frown upside down!

I went to Whole Foods on the corner of West 24th and 7th Avenue to do a little light grocery shopping. A little of this and little of that, you know. I was about to leave when I noticed a very pregnant Diana Krall and Elvis Costello walk into the fruit section. I went towards the stack of grapes that were directly in front of them. How can I get this picture? I must document this! I went to a school dance as Elvis Costello once! So I acted as if I was texting somebody, took the picture quickly and walked away angry, responding to some disturbing text I just received (ha!).

What if Mr. Costello remembers the angry young man, standing behind the grapes, who received such a disturbing text that he quickly marched out of the fruit section. This would trouble him so that he would wind up writing a song about it titled, “The Grapes Couldn’t Protect Him.”

Check out his next album, I bet it’ll be there. Mark my word!

As I’ve gotten older I’ve calmed my gay activism down a bit here and there. Even though I do very much agree with the “movement,” I’m not involved with it. Other issues have become more prominent for me over the years, HIV/AIDS, the environment, clean water, nutrition, voting rights, among many others. But I do have to say that I absolutely love the visibility that the gays are getting in the media.

An example of this is the new show “Ugly Betty.” Betty’s nephew, Justin, no more than 12 years old and obviously gay, is probably the youngest gay character to appear on television. On last night’s episode Justin accompanied Betty to work at the fashion magazine, while there he stayed in the closet to check out the clothes to which Betty’s boss said, “He can’t stay in the closet,” leaving Betty to roll her eyes. Having a character like Justin on television not only sends the message that being gay is just as natural as being straight to so many young gay kids just going through puberty, but it also allows them to identify with somebody else, even if that person is just a character on TV. Justin comments to Marc, Betty’s co-worker and also gay, that the other kids at school don’t get his unique sense of style. Justin says, “Wear what you want, feel what you want; just learn to run really fast.” That line tells every confused gay kid in America that it’s alright to feel what they’re feeling but to also recognize that it isn’t always going to be easy. A great show, watch it! CHECK OUT the show’s website.

Also in gay news, an actor that I’ve had a thing for ever since “Grey’s Anatomy” premiered, T.R. Knight (he plays Dr. George O’Malley) came out of the closest today. I’m not a huge advocate for artists to “come out” just because the public feels they need to know, however I like that my chances of possibly doing the dirty dirty with him are at least somewhat more likely now. CHECK OUT the show’s website.

Whenever my father would come home from work I’d always ask, “How was your day?” There’d be a pause before his response and then, in a monotone voice, he’d reply, “Just lovely.” If somebody asked me how I’m feeling this morning I’d reply, “Just lovely!”

You got me, I don’t really care about baseball. But I do love my hometown! To honor the greatness that is St. Louis I will suffer through the taunts and snears from the crazy Mets fans on the streets of lovely New York. Just thinking of St. Louis sends a sharp craving for Imo’s straight to my tummy, God bless St. Louis!

I read a story in the paper this morning with the headline, “Gal-Pal Gumbo,” which naturally caught my eye. Some guy, who apparently got a little national media attention (even though I’ve never heard of him, and I watch A LOT of TV) for refusing to leave New Orleans during Katrina murdered his girlfriend and then killed himself. Back during Katrina he and his girlfriend refused to leave New Orleans, not unlike many others but because this particular couple was white they got all kinds of media attention. A few days ago he killed her, cut her up, cooked her head, arms and legs (the dismembered body parts were found in the oven and the head in a pot on the stove, badly burnt) and then yesterday he jumped off the roof of a popular hotel in the Big Easy. I know, crazy, right? I’ve burnt many a meal before but I’ve never been so upset that I’ve contemplated suicide because of it. CHECK OUT THE ARTICLE

Last night on the subway a young man got on with a guitar and portable speakers to play a little traveling music and possibly make a little dough, it’s people like him that I hate most in urban cities. Whether he’s good or bad is irrelevant to me, I find it annoying to have somebody playing music (usually poorly) while I’m just trying to get home. Apparently these performers represent the higher ups in the begging world, however I’d rather give my quarter to the smelly drunk, at least he’s upfront and honest with no forced gimmick. The dilemma I struggle with when encountered in a situation like this is how to tune the performer out. My Midwestern manors tell me that it would be rude to pull out my iPod right in front of him, or visibly turn the volume up. So instead of drowning out the music with a perfect selection of my own (performed by truly talented musicians), I’m forced to suffer through yet another version of a Grateful Dead standard or an independently produced rap record. Life in the big city aint always easy!

But my big news from last night was Round 2 of performing in front of an audience. Just like last week I sucked, big time, but the excitement of actually doing it drove me through it. I have absolutely no problem failing in front of people, or making a fool of myself, I can recover from that embarrassment. The real test is to become comfortable in front of a crowd, not tense up once it’s my turn and somehow feel at least half-natural up on stage (the nervousness will never go away, but how I handle it can be altered). I cannot tell you how wonderful it felt to be up there, facing a fear, doing what I want to do. The confidence it builds is astonishing, such a rush. I will certainly be back next week and also plan to work up the gumption to do stand up (it will happen). I’m so happy, so happy!

On that note, I’ve got a hankering for burnt foot, Gumbo style, anybody interested?

I’m surprisingly happy today, the reason is unknown. Does there have to be a reason to be happy? My mind tells me yes, my heart says no. Since I tend to over think things, I’m going to go with what my head thinks.

Last night I intended to go running however, due to rain, I could not. I guess I technically could have but who wants to run in the rain? Any logical person thinks, “Alright, no, it’s shitty outside, not tonight!” If only I were a logical person! I thought, “Okay, so you’re not going to run, good going fat ass. Why don’t you go upstairs and overeat, yeah, GO, EAT EAT!!!”

Tonight I intend to go for a run, possibly that’s why I’m so happy. I’ve eaten sensibly today, had a full days work, not too tired (the subway ride will determine just how tired I am, it always seems to make me sleepy; but I have a Balance bar to combat the subway sleepiness), I’m raring to go!

Later on this evening I will, for the second time in years, be performing in front of an audience. Even though I truly suck at it right now (I’ve been away from it for a while, it’s going to take some time for me to build my gumption up- or at least that’s what I’m telling myself), the sheer adrenaline rush that’s received makes it worth it. It’s just wonderful, truly amazing! I’m looking forward to sucking again tonight. I suck and I love it!!!

But I have to say that I’m most happy because this afternoon I had a conversation with a lovely friend, Miss Lori White! She’s off in cozy old France (I know, I’m jealous too) having a great time. I couldn’t be more proud of her!

Okay, here goes, look out world!

One of the main reasons why I cannot keep up with a blog is because I plan out everything I’m going to say in detail. As I’m writing down everything I get frustrated and realize what I’m trying to do isn’t worth it. Of course, for safety, I email myself everything that I’ve half-written just in case I actually decide to do anything with it (unlikely). I was just writing something for the blog when, once again, I became frustrated and gave up on it. Then I thought, “Fuck it, just fucking free write, who cares if there’s no rhyme or reason to it!” So that’s what I’m going to do.

The thing I’m thinking the most about right now is the Cookie Dough Balance Bar that I’m about to go pick up from the store. Not only is it a tasty treat but packs 20g of protein, peak energy goodness masked behind Mom’s old fashioned cookie dough. The actual trip to Whole Foods to pick it up has been on my mind ever since lunch. I thought, “Alright, I’ll have an apple at 3:30 and then the Balance bar at 5:45ish, about an hour before my run. Perfect! Won’t be too stuffed for the run and will have ample enough energy.” Instead of thinking about story ideas, work or something a little more proactive to my life, I devote 5 hours of my brain’s life to a Balance bar. Yes, that’s where my priorities lie.

I’ve also been dealing with someone who doesn’t like me. I don’t necessarily need them to like me and in fact they might not care about me at all, which is fine too. It’s not that they don’t like me, it’s their general attitude towards me. It is not mean-spirited, but still rude. I come from the school of faking enthusiasm for somebody else just to make everybody feel special, that way nobody’s feelings are hurt and everybody goes home happy. It’s a very Midwestern state of mind, difficult to explain. Because the Midwestern in me wants to not only be respected but also teach this East Coast bitch a lesson, I think of topics that I imagine she would also be interested in. However when I bring them up the rudeness continues. It’s a losing battle, I realize that, but I can’t give up. When I go to pick up the Balance bar I might get her a cookie, maybe that’ll work.

I’m terrified of nuclear war. I know that the United States will be able to protect itself from a nuclear attack, it isn’t that. I’m more terrified of the North Korean leader, Kim Jong II, and what he’ll do if pushed into a corner. He’s a spoiled kid who never progressed past the age of 18, wears athletic suits all the time (I am a little jealous that he’s able to do that, I wish I could pull that off) and frankly isn’t developed enough to fully understand half the things the world leaders are saying. I imagine he’s similar to Veruca Salt from “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” when she wants a goose and Wonka won’t give one up. She was later discovered to be a rotten egg and sent down to the furnace room. I certainly hope somebody pushes Jong’s ass down something. Maybe Bush should go over there, bring lots of alcohol (we all know Jong’s into to booze and boobs), maybe some crack for Bush and then take him out, Texan style. It could happen.

Oh what a world we live in, what a world!