Day LXXVII: Rise

Photos are not in short order around here. There are plenty. While I've been recapping the day before on each of these Colorado-based blogs, I'm taking a break to share some shots from this morning.

Maria and I took a little one-on-one time at 6:15 this morning to hike up into the hills behind their home. After a jaunty ten minute drive, we reached our destination. The base of the hills dipped into the waters of the mountain reservoir and covered the shore in shale and needles.

We looked up.

Rocks loomed heavily above, glowing red as the sun peeked from behind the opposite hill. Pine trees swayed. Birds warbled. Deer leapt. Morning broke.

Taking one last glance down at the car, we stepped foot after foot along the carved, dirty trail into the hillside. We walked quickly, pausing only to press Cheba onward or take a swig of water. Sap glistened, smiling little menaces from every branch we braced for support.

Carefully, we moved through thistle and rabbit droppings. Eventually, we reached the base of the massive rocks we'd seen below. As momentous as they looked from the car, up close: they were mystifying. Shocked by their size, we traded places as we climbed higher and higher, swapping Cheba between us as we pushed and pulled our way to the top.

And how worth it was.

Blue skies painted above, rays of sunlight blasting our cheeks and the back of our necks. We did yoga. We sighed. We ooo'd and awe'd.

Maria scooped Cheeba up in her hands one last time and presented him to the world.

For a brief moment: we had risen. We had risen indeed

And then, it was time for another adventure...

Day LXXVI: Water

Amidst the the craggy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, my brother's fiance, Maria, and I found the most delightful little place.

I say that like had anything to do with it. It was all Maria's doing. 

In fact, on different shores of the same lake we discovered, Erick and Maria will be getting married this summer! And while they're spending the most wonderful day of their lives together, I will be the on business side of things, ordaining their precious union. 

I'm the lucky minister! (Thank god for online certification!)

Anyway, for the last three months, I've been racking my brain for all sorts of ideas and possibilities to include in my speech during their wedding. I've had some fortunate insight from Todd Mattson--my beautiful roommate Sibley's father--on how to do it right; I think I will be stealing some of his charisma before the wedding in early August. 

Mostly, my ideas have included quotes from Shakespeare and bell hooks, short passages from Take Me to the Zoo, and embarrassing and slightly violent stories from growing up with Erick. 

Tonight, we're going to talk about the different options for speeches that I've come up with, and what they're looking for. I suppose the latter of the two is a little more important... regardless of how quickly I plan on turning their wedding into a horrifying shit-show of older sibling melodrama about my younger brother finding eternal happiness before me.

But they had to know that before getting me involved, right?

Right.

Back to the delightful place: there's a beautiful reservoir  in Fort Collins that is nestled between towering, rounded hills and covered in soft waves of prairie grass and small shrubs. And right on the shores of the lake, my brother and future sister-in-law will be saying their vows, kissing the bride, and spending a day in exceptional happiness.

And in this beautiful little alcove, I had a thought.

As we descended a massive rocky cliff, Maria and I traipsed through painful bunches of brittle twigs and brush, careful to avoid  the numerous prickly pear cacti blanketing the ridge. We made our way to the shores of the reservoir, and hesitantly dipped our feet in to the undoubtedly freezing water. And, yes, it was cold. Very cold. A cold that permeates and settles beneath your skin.

But it was equally refreshing. The sort that only comes from water: quenching your thirst, cooling you down, rushing you along.

And that was my thought. Relationships are like water. The freezing kind. There are moments of terse and uncomfortable cold. Getting to know someone can feel so forced and unnatural, but, eventually, you ease your way in to feeling relaxed. Given enough time and work, you feel comfortable. And by the time you submerge yourself in the other, dropping well below the surface, your forget that the water was even chilly to begin with.

I'm sure there's more to explore there, but it was nice thought on a beautiful day, so I thought I'd share.

Perhaps we could all benefit from taking a leap.

Day LXXV: Rock

In the summer of 1997, I traveled with my brother and mom to Homer, Alaska where my aunt was living at the time. It was an unbelievable experience. We spent months in and out of campsites, bathing in hot springs, and gallivanting across the Northern United States and Canada.

The trip was expansive. At eight years old, I learned more about the country I call home than I did throughout my time in middle and high school. A child of the woods and lakes of Minnesota, I was lucky enough be familiar with exploring the great outdoors. Never one to shy from the allure of branching trails and the lofty heights of a maple or pine, a trip to the largest state in the union was the opportunity of a lifetime. 

A year later, I was gifted the same opportunity. I spent June, July, and August of 1998 in a truck with my grandma, meandering to Fairbanks to visit Jennifer. 

I was a rather good navigator when I was nine. Probably much better than I am now! There was something so empowering about predicting the travel time left or making estimations for when we'd arrive at our next checkpoint. Probably something about being right and being on top of our travelling. You'll remember that little Josh loved him some praise.

The mountains quickly became my favorite place to be. Breathing in dust, kicked up by sprinting feet and dirty shoes, never felt abrasive. It was just part of the experience. My hands were cracked constantly, covered in maps of gritty sand and shallow, shale-assisted cuts. And clean clothes? They didn't exist.

Something about Colorado reminds me of those summers. Sweaters and sneakers, freezing lakes and sweltering hilltops. They were some of the happiest moments of my life. Just off the trail, ambling through thigh-high collections of thorny brush and spotty milkweed, spider grass, and fire weed. Or reaching, shoes caked in sand and mud, just one rock higher, just one step further.





Of all of the sunbathed moments that crawl to the forefront of my mind, one instance stands particularly tall above the rest.


Camping in Valdez, Alaska was one the more profound moments of my experience growing up. It's a very small memory. Red fleece, glasses, and buckteeth: standing on a hilltop, peering down over the camp sights, tiny ants and anthills peppering the earth. And me, nine years old, realizing how small we are, how quiet the world can be. And so unequivocally happy! So fortunate! So alive and young and excited.

It's been a delightful first day in Colorado.

I can't believe I get three more.

LXXIV: Three

The thing about Wednesday: I always end up with a story from the day that I don't get to share because of my commitment to #WigWednesday. And then, because I tend to be the most scatterbrained of all people, I forget what I actually wanted to share with you all.

But not tonight! No, tonight I am on top of things. For you, I have three stories to share from my Wednesdeay. I hope you'll enjoy them.

Wet

Wasn't it fun how it snowed and rained all Sunday long? The accumulation of snow and sleet really cemented the beauty of spring.

As you may have guessed from my post on Tuesday, I had a bit of a rocky Monday. Luckily, the blood moon kept me pretty energized throughout the evening and I was able to spring back up on my feet in time for Tuesday to roll around. And while staying up until 3 am enjoying the orange orb in the sky and writing through some weirdness was probably not a great idea, I felt surprisingly ready for the morning.

Teeth brushed, body showered, feet booted: I was ready for the day. Bustling out of the apartment, I was ready to get to work, get through the day, and move on to an exciting night. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the loud children next door--who are usually unbearable in the early hours of the day--were suspiciously silent. Ah, yes, it was going to be a good day. And then I sat down in my car.

After the rain.

After the snow in the night.

After leaving my moon roof open for 12 ungodly hours.

So with a soaked ass, and not one single ounce of dignity, I drove to work, the butt of my jeans significantly darker than the rest. 

Now, yes, this was Tuesday. And this was supposed to be a story about Wednesday! Fear not: we're getting there. 

Cut to me, standing outside of Bull Run, chatting with my grandpa. We must have talked for 50 minutes! It was a nice long discussion about all sorts of things. Mostly, it was just to catch up. So we CAUGHT UP. For a while! And it was great! But I ended up walking up and down the streets of my neighborhood the entire time we had our conversation. So when it came time to go inside after our lengthy chat, I was little...well...moist.

That's right.

Moist.

Work

Being in a new space is not without its benefits. The exploration and excitement that comes with a new environment can really contribute to the creative energies of a work space. 

One of the oft overlooked benefits of a different office: new furniture! 

I am fortunate enough to work somewhere that carries an incredibly relaxed vibe. 

So when you're a little jittery throughout the day already--namely: you can't sit still--it's helpful to have a seat that moves along with you. Whether I'm sitting, standing, or kneeling, I have a chair that rolls with the punches. Hell, I can feel my back and my core getting stronger already. If you're looking for something to keep you on your toes while doing mundane tasks, this would be my go to suggestion. 

Wardrobe

I've never shied away from talking about naked-time. You know, the time to yourself when you just get to disrobe, hangout--literally--and be yourself in the most basic possible form. I'm a fan. 

The only part of the day that I consistently get to enjoy naked-time, though, is when it's time for bed. I don't care for sleeping with clothes on. I'm a big advocate for showering before bed, so I never feel like my naked self is polluting the perfection of my bed sheets and blankets. Sleeping sans clothing just feels right to someone like me; it's something I genuinely cherish throughout the weaving hours of the week.

So, knowing that I sleep in my birthday suit, can someone please explain to me how I woke up like this on Wednesday morning?

Sweatpants? A sweater (not buttoned correctly...)? Socks?

Color me confused.

I've never been one to sleep walk--have I?!--so coming to on Wednesday morning in more clothes than I wore the entire day before was a bit puzzling. 

When I asked Kyle about it, explaining the predicament I was placed in, he helpfully offered an answer.

"Oh, is this finally when I tell you I sneak into your room and dress you every evening?"

Well, I guess that's one possibility. 

Day LXXIII: Queens of Talk

(Editor's note: thanks for reading along--over 9000 views!)

Welcome to another installment of #WigWednesday!

On a beautiful, snowy day such as this, it's important to remember that there are more meaningful aspects to life than the weather. Like an hour and a half of drag queens every Tuesday night and a recapping of their performance in the happiest television show on earth. (okay, I don't watch enough TV to know if that superlative is accurate, but I can't imagine a series with more appeal.)

The blog is going out a little late tonight! I was otherwise occupied last night and for THE FIRST TIME IN HERSTORY, I had to ruwatch the episode on my own. Gotta say: much prefer watching with a group of loud and laughing friends. Still, The Race is consistently delightful and this week was no exception.

7. Adore Delano (bottom two)

Well this basically kills me. But my sweet little angel--and dedicated party girl--Adore Delano was definitely the worst of the week. Watching her interview Chaz Bono and Georgia Holt was painful. Absolutely painful. I think it was markably more difficult because my love for this little creature is so monumental. While I've never shied away from a diamond-encrusted face net (that's a thing, right?), I thought Adore's runway look was a big ol' miss. They were asked to present "Animal Kingdom Realness." Adore looked like Hannibal Lecter had sex with Catwoman and forgot to pull out. 

Not. Awesome.

Still: I am not worried about my little kitten. She's here to play the hard game.

6. Joslyn Fox (bottom three)

You know what's not a great idea? Talking about abortion in the middle of an interview. It's one thing to make a fetus joke--because, duh, hilarious--but I think there are more tactful options to discuss with an 86 year old woman than pro life vs. pro choice. Joslyn's demeanor and pleasant personality completely redeemed her with the judges, though, and it seemed like Georgia and Chaz were quite receptive to the little shih tzu. But Joslyn's performance on the runway was abysmal. She looked like a stripper's interpretation of a rooster. Not the best effort we've seen from her. The saving grace is that this queen is just the sweetest fucking thing on earth. Should she have landed in the bottom? Definitely. Should she have been sent home by Adore? Well, yeah. Am I happy she'll be around for another week? Absolutely.

5. Darienne Lake (safe)

When you're called a "shady elephant" by the biggest bitch (and I mean that in the most loving way possible) in six seasons of the show, you know you've managed to be an exceptionally rude queen. When Bianca called Darienne out on her toxic attitude, I think we all realized that Miss Darienne has lost her charm. It's unfortunate! I was totally sold on her before the show started. Oh what editing can do for your love of a drag queen. Performance wise, Darienne was in the middle of the road this week. A nervous wreck in the interview challenge, she turned the heat up on the runway by delivering and elephant-inspired look that--erect nipples aside--looked pretty damn beautiful. It's weird to see someone so sure in their character be so nervous with others. I think it serves to further highlight this big gurl's insecurities.

4. Trinity K. Bonet (eliminated)

Just as you were starting to grow on me too! Well, damn. Two weeks ago, I would have been praising this exit. But Trinity was NOT deserving of elimination this week. Sure, she rightfully lost the lipsync for your life to Adore Delano, but Trinity shouldn't have slipped into the bottom to begin with. Her massive misstep--calling Chaz "Chad" throughout the entire interview--sealed her fate, though, and the judges were not able to overlook how easily her nerves took over. Let's be real though, the runway look should have kept her around. If Andrew Lloyd Webber had written "BIRDS" instead of "CATS" (which, obviously, I had on VHS), this is exactly what all the characters would have channeled. Ten points to a bitch who can put that many feathers on and still remain grounded.

3. Bianca Del Rio (safe)

Can't knock the consistency of Bianca Del Rio. She delivers! This week, she didn't once speak to Georgia Holt in the interview, and she still managed to be one of the best in the challenge. I would argue she was deserving third place overall this week. Her runway look seemed so expensive! And that's hard to do looking like a jungle cat. The way she painted her body and prepared her hair: I'd say that Bianca was on the prowl last night. Looking ahead to next week, the Makeover Challenge, there's no way that Bianca won't be back on top of her game. Where's that damn crown already?

2. Courtney Act (winner)

A teeny-tiny bit of that entitlement managed to dissipate with Courtney this week. Some of that shiny, stepford veneer finally peeled away and we were left with an impressive queen doing an impressive job in the challenge and on the runway. I mean, sweet Jesus: that wingspan! It may not have been animalistic--since when is an angel an animal?--but it was a fully realized event. Don't kid yourself into thinking that Courtney is relying on pretty. She came prepared to clean house.

1. Ben Delacreme (top two)

Courtney might have won this week, but the real star was Ben Delacreme. After two terrifying weeks of lackluster performances, Dela is finally back where she belongs amidst the best of the best. She was so kind and funny during the interview, I legitimately thought she must have had experience with interviewing guests in the past. Everything was so controlled and relaxed, and her banter was enjoyable to boot! On the runway, Ben was genius. A fly? A FLY?! It was so quirky and comical, I was surprised she wasn't granted victory on the outfit choice alone. Hopefully her win-worthy performance will set the tone for the closing stages of the race. I can't wait to see what she's ready to pull out next week.

Personal Ranking Week IX

Darienne Lake

Trinity K. Bonet

Joslyn Fox

Courtney Act

Ben Delacreme

Bianca Del Rio

Adore Delano

Elimination Prediction

Joslyn Fox

Darienne Lake

Ben Delacreme

Courtney Act

Adore Delano

Bianca Del Rio

Day LXXII: Selfish

There are few things in the world that are harder to hear than the disappointment in your father's voice.

One of those things is knowing you're responsible for it.

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Growing up, I was a good and happy child. I listened, worked hard, enjoyed meeting others, gave flowers to my mother's friends, went to church, smiled at strangers, and was (mostly) friendly to my brother. I obeyed adults. I did well in school. And doing well came with it's rewards. Presents, high fives, hugs, kisses, extra play time, video games, toys. The whole works.

But nothing compared to the praise.

Day LXXI: Versatile

A question you hear a lot as a gay man: top or bottom? 

For day 69, I was really looking forward to posting another sexy-minded blog. 

But it came too quickly.

I'll be here all night.

Any time I include something vaguely sexual in the title, in the body, or in the photographs on this blog, my viewership rockets. Maybe I should just drag unsuspecting readers here under the false pretense of nudes or erotica? Might be to my benefit, really...

Sensationalized headlines aren't really my thing. So that's out. I don't too often feel like getting naked for a camera--a present from me to you. And while I've never tried my hand at erotic writing, I don't think I'd be too deft.

Ah, hell, let's give it a shot.

Amanda tugged at her bra straps. Emory swiped his belt. They met, forged by lust, a hammer and anvil in sweltering, immolating passion. They did unspeakable things. They made sounds like animals. They had sexual intercourse and it was very hot.

Damn: now that's a scene.

Predictably, erotica's not for me.

But that doesn't mean I can't give it a shot. While I may never seize the opportunity to write a masterpiece of entwining limbs and reckless passion, the possibility is comforting. An array of options: that's what keeps us on our toes. It's the same line of thinking that propagates choice as the ultimate freedom. You can do this, you can do that; the blank is never occupied at the end of the question.

That's why I choose to be versatile.

And I mean it. The most beautiful part of existence is that every path, every road, every option is viable, is tangible, is possible. Some take more work than others--and some make no fucking sense. But that's fine. Being open to the possibility of difference and the unforeseen: it's worth it. And so are you.

I used to be on OKCupid. The worst part of a dating site is the setup. I loathe talking about myself (which I understand makes no sense since attention is my lifeblood) and I never felt like it allowed me to represent who I am. I guess the same applies to anything you develop for the world to view. It's always going to be an idealized snapshot of who you are. I like to think that sincerity and vulnerability--two of my favorite qualities--help mediate that, but it's difficult to say.

In many ways, being versatile is my identity.












I don't mind getting dirty.
















I'm perfectly at home in a hunting hat and cutoffs.

Or in a wig.

















Or looking like this.

Or stepping in a decomposed deer while hiking in flip-flops.





Okay.

Maybe not that last one. That's a story for another time.

But you get it.

I guess I'm trying to persuade you, dear reader, that being versatile is sexy. That one-note is boring. That opening yourself up to experience is a stunning and crucial part of existence. And being proud of the conglomerated mess that you are is some kind of wonderful.

As for the answer to the question posed at the beginning of the blog?

I think I'll leave it blank.