Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The Only Adventure

¡Hola! Everybody,
Whoa! There was a lot going on at 360 yesterday. Everyday, people are being unmasked and exposed. I always say that if you’re dishonest, it comes out in the wash at some time. I have to shake my head and wonder the wretched lives some people live. I mean to create lives and personalities out of whole cloth?

* * *

Leap of Faith
“Sometimes you just have to take the leap and build your wings on the way down.”

I love that photo of Emily leaping into those crystal waters. You know me, everything has a meaning. I live in a world rife with symbols, meanings, subtexts -- the full catastrophe! LOL I love the photo because it’s an apt metaphor for life. We’re not truly living if we’re not leaping into uncharted territory at least occasionally. And Emily is doing that today. Shit, she’s going to Africa to do service. Now that’s a leap! LOL Sweetie, I know you’re gone by now, but if you wanted to leap so bad, ya coulda leaped right into my bed!


I can only imagine what’s going through her mind. She’s a single mother holding it down and here she is going away for 30 days to a hot spot (the Sudan) to do service. I’m sure she’s having some second thoughts right about now. LMAO!

But isn’t this the same in all our lives? Sometimes we hit a comfort zone and we think everything’s cool. However, if stop and look we might realize we’re not taking chances, or we’re not pushing the boundaries and I think what happens is that we wake up one day and swear we don’t know what the fuck happened! Not that I’m attempting to put Emily on a pedestal (she’s a looney! LOL!), but she’s going to do something she always wanted to do. How many of us have things we haven’t done for one reason or another?

I would guess a lot of you are nodding your heads right about now. I think the reason we don’t do those things is that it takes us out of our comfort zone. It’s extremely uncomfortable to get out of the routine and do something new -- even if it’s something we have always desired.

It’s the same when it comes to love and relationships. I’m infamous for leaping! LOL! But then, after I leap, I’m going, “What the fuck am I doing?!!” Opening up and committing to loving another is a huge leap of faith. My thoughts usually go along the lines of, “I’m happy, free, and serene being single!” And to a large extent, it’s true: It's not as if I'm yearning to be "completed," or some bullshit myth like that. I’m not “looking” for a connection per se, but don’t we all love being with another? I guess we love because it is the only true adventure.

Theres another photo taken immediately after the one above. In that photo Emily is threading water, looking as if Christmas arrived early and the caption reads, “the water was so good.” And I guess that’s my last point today. So many times when faced with decisions we tend to think about it forever, dip our toes in the water repeatedly, do everything but jump. Still, when we finally take that leap there is nothing greater than the joyous freedom we experience as we sail through the air on our broken wings.

May you all take the occasional leap and Godspeed, Emily...



Monday, April 28, 2008

Monday Madness (Smell my Dick)

¡Hola! Everybody,
This is an open challenge to Mr. Bryson. Bee-atch: instead of posting idle threats of a “storm brewing,” and acting the fool, why don’t you instead for once in your life act like a true man and come clean about your abuses to the women unfortunate to be exposed to you? One brother sent me a post pointing out that the compassionate thing to do about your sorry ass is to reach out to you as a Christian. I’m no Christian, but I believe in compassion. However, my concern is more for the women you preyed and will continue to prey on.

Still, if you were a real man, instead of defending your cowardice, you would attempt to change and the first step in any change is to admit your wrongs. Another step would entail attempting to make genuine amends to the women you have wronged. You have abused, lied to, terrorized, and stolen from women. Moreover, that’s just what I know you have done on the internet. I’m sure there are many more out there. I realize your father may not have taught you, but be man and be brave! Come forward and admit to your abuses and try to make restitution and I will the first to have your back.

Somehow, I sense you will never be a man and continue with your lies, abuses, and deceit. Until you make a public admission, you will dance for Mr. T...


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* * *

Monday Ramblings
(or, “Smell my Dick”)

Well people, I’ve heard it all now. The way I see it it’s gonna be cool for women to sing, “Let me smell your dick.” Have you heard/ seen this video? I saw it posted on a couple of blogs and it’s hilarious. Back in the daze, a simple, “Let me groove you,” is all we got! The thing is this perverse Po’Reekan would find a deranged pleasure in having a woman sniff “The Panther Slayer.” LMAOOO! I’d be like, “Babes! Come smell my dick!” LMAOOO!

*insert video*

Okay! Just last night while waiting for a call, I’m hearing all this slobbering and when I look one of my landlord’s dog was steady licking his dick. Ladies? If I could suck my own dick, I would have nothing to say any of you! And please! Stop it with the analyzing. Sucking my own dick has nothing to do with homoerotic wish fulfillment. It’s sucking my own dick, not Joe Knechbone. Sucking my own dick would monosexual, I guess. Whatever! If I could suck my own dick, I would give you ladies no convo. And if I did, I would be vindictive about being able to suck my own dick. If you gave me too much lip, I sit down and suck my own dick just to show that “I don’t need you to suck my dick, so chill!”


Go ahead, argue with me, put the poosie on lockdown, make my day!

I’m being silly today...

On a more serious note, I started moving things into my apartment!

You don’t know how good it felt to finally trim my mustache and shave in my own shower. Oh, man! And I love my apartment; it’s the perfect bachelor’s get up. I live in a historic brownstone in Brooklyn. It was built in the late 1800s and it’s been meticulously kept. Here’s the upstairs kitchen/ dining room area of my landlord’s living space:

My own apartment -- a “garden apartment” -- is really cool. It has a fireplace (don’t know if it works):

It has the original wood wainscoting all around. The windows have the original wooden shutters. Here’s a partial view of the bedroom. It has a large closet:

The kitchen will need a little sprucing up. I plan to decorate, going for an Asian motif -- perhaps a nutty blending of Japanese minimalism with a Chinese nod to ornamentalism.

My apartment leads directly to a garden. I have a part of it for my use. I couldn’t take a pic from my apartment’s perspective, but here’s the view from my landlady’s back terrace:

Pretty cool, huh? Whatever the case, I’m just happy to have my own place after struggling with this issue for so long. I’ve been blessed, because the apartment, which can easily rent for at least $2,000, has been rented to me for less than that and utilities included.

Oh yeah! I almost forgot! I have also inherited a pet. He’s a very old dog called Chucky. Chucky has a very special vibe going on. He’s ancient -- 18 years-old. We’re gonna be with one another:

That’s it for today! Who loves you?



Sunday, April 27, 2008

Sunday Sermon (Anger)

¡Hola! Everybody,
I haven’t commented on the Sean Bell miscarriage of justice. I’m actually at a loss for words right now regarding this incident. Tomorrow at work, we will be strategizing in order to organize the city’s youth.

Today: a poem and a rant.

* * *

I want to stay by you and surround you with gifts.

Books of Neruda’s poetry.
Balloons from the park.
Sunny days and skinny-dipping.

I want to stay by you
so I can give you --
my vigilance when you’re home.

Tokens that tell you
you are missed.

Silent solitary parades
to celebrate your returns.

And all you will ever owe me
is a soft look
that says
you will miss me
when my gifts and I
have gone away.

-- Eddie, Nows [no. 11]
(All rights reserved ©)

* * *

-=[ Anger ]=-

“Every loving thought is true.
Everything else is an appeal for healing and help,
regardless of the form it takes.”

-- A Course in Miracles

This is a difficult post for me because lately I’ve been struggling with the issue. I find myself lashing at a loved one and if I lay down the defenses, I realize it’s just plain wrong. When I take the focus off the perceived wrong and put it on me, I see that my reactions are off.

It’s a difficult realization not because it’s hard for me to own up to it, but because it lays bare how much work I have ahead of me.

Deep down inside anger is based on fear.

Truth is a loving thought. Every thought based on love is a truth. Everything else is a desperate and sometimes dysfunctional cry for wholeness. And the question remains of how I should respond to anger. How can I be justified in responding in anger to my loved one’s anger? The answer here is clear: the only appropriate response is the willingness to give with an open heart.

What if I were to propose that all anger is nothing more than attempt to make someone feel guilty. As long as I value guilt I will create a world in which attack is justified. As long as I can keep in mind that guilt is meaningless, I will understand that no attack can be justified.

When I attack, I lose sight of the fact that I am blessed. I attack because I feel deprived and am reacting from fear-based thinking. If instead I choose to love, I create abundance. If I choose to harden myself and contract, I embody the illusion that there is scarcity.

In attacking, whether I’m wrong or right, I hurt myself and I lose the chance to know my lover because essentially I fear what I attack.

I do know anger is never justified. Attack has foundation only in fear and escape from fear begins with this realization.

This is where I will be made whole.

If I don’t defend the anger then I enter a real world of possibilities and love instead inhabiting a dream world of terror.



Saturday, April 26, 2008

Hambriente (Hunger)

¡Hola! Everybody,
I want to take this moment to wish my dear freidn Iris (Beeper) a very happy birthday. The past year has been a challenging one, I know. But Iris, you serve as a power of example for many people. We used to fifht a lot, so that must mean I care for her.


I will be gone for the day. I’m taking a friend’s advice and going out to do something for myself. Have a great Saturday and I’ll be seeing you all tomorrow.

Today I’m posting one of my fave poems. It’s a bilingual thing today people. If you can read in Spanish, do it because as powerful as the English version is, it pales in comparison to the Spanish. I love the line, “Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura… ” (I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body... )

* * *


I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

* * *

Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,
no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia,
busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en el dia.

Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada,
de tus manos color de furioso granero,
tengo hambre de la palida piedra de tus uñas,
quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almendra.

Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura,
la nariz soberana del arrogante rostro,
quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas

y hambriento vengo y voy olfateando el crepusculo
buscandote, buscando tu corazon caliente
como un puma en la soledad de Quitratue.

-- Pablo Neruda

(1986). Cien sonetos de amor (100 love sonnets). Austin, TX, Univesity of Texas Press.

* * *



Friday, April 25, 2008

[un]Common Sense Sex Blog (Sex Blog Party)

¡Hola! Everybody,
Today I would like to try something new. Actually, I’m trying to ingratiate myself, so help a brother out, will ya? LOL

As some of you may know, our dear Emily will be leaving soon to do some relief work in Africa. She’ll be gone for a month. Initially, I was a little concerned that King Kong may take her or that some long-forgotten enlightened African society will abduct and sacrifice her as “The Great White Virgin,” but we all know any cursory investigation will show without a shadow of a doubt that she’s not a virgin.

Image of enlightened forgotten African society kicking Emily out

Now, I know some of you reading this (many of whom aren’t on my friends’ list) know that Emily and I have had have the occasional flare-up on 360. And in fact, Shay even told us to chill at one point. And yes, it is true, we have had some major public catastrophes, but the bottom line is that sometimes passion is expressed in many different ways. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t take the time to bother and neither would she. We fight because we… well I won’t say it, but you all get my drift, right?

*grin* (she’s gonna kill me!)

Having gotten this out of the way I would love for us to have a sex blog party for Emily!

The First Annual [un]Common Sense Sex Blog Party

Almost anything is allowed (please refrain from midget abuse).

We had a dinner planned for her, but she never returned our call, so we ate anyway. The food was GREAT Emily!

We have some festivities under way and the infamous Pool Bois have promised to make a rare appearance. Here they are at the parade we had for Emily (she missed the parade too. EMILY ANSWER YOUR PHONE!):

We tried to get a male dancer, but considering that Emily hasn’t had sex in, like, a decade (I fear she’s re-grown an intact hymen), we thought that wouldn’t be a wise idea. Instead, our very own TJ agreed to perform for Emily. Go TJ, Go TJ, Go TJ!

[Note: Due to the highly erotic content of this video, it has been blacked out by the FCC]

Finally, we have the latest performance by the Pool Bois. This is the first time this piece has been performed for the 360 public! It’s the hawt new hit called “Fuck a Midget, We Gonna Piss on Your Parade. It features everybody’s fave midget Morris Harding!

(Why is Stiffy peeing on Morris? ::blank stare::)

Now wasn’t that something, folks?!! I was going to have Bitch Bryson do a strip tease for Mr. T but he chickened out (no surprise there).

Sex is free today in the [un]Common Sex Blog. Just please clean up after yourselves.

Emily? Remember you promised me freaky, no-holds-barred sex (anal too) when you come back.


Baby! May you take this opportunity to do service as a vehicle for healing not just for others, but for yourself too. I will miss you while you’re gone.



Thursday, April 24, 2008

The Curse

Hola Everybody!
I’m gone -- in prison all day.
Just for the record: though no woman on 360 has ever seen a pic of it nor has any 360 lady ever touched, kissed, sheathed, sucked, or tenderly fondled it, I assure you that women have often found my penis (“Panther Slayer”) to be pleasurable as well as very pretty.
(On second thought, Well there was that pic I posted of Panther Slayer in action… LOL)
Speaking of pricks! Bryson, stop talking shit and put up or crawl back under that rock you came from. You’ve been challenged and you’ve been found wanting.
Today: something old, something new. How is it that abusive patterns are handed down?
* * *
Patterns and Spirals
“Forgiveness is another word for letting go.”
-- Matthew Fox
Learning forgiveness, both granting it to others and accepting for ourselves, is one of the primary tools for spiritual growth. For many us, if we are honest enough with ourselves, taking a look at our history is to be plagued with deep-rooted feelings of guilt. We may develop insight, or we finally open to the possibility of being accountable for some of this history, which opens us to a new perspective on life. As human beings, we may also yearn to undo our mistakes. However, many of us carry guilt for years as if we deserved to continue to be punished.
True growth means letting go.
My experience has shown me that it is not until we learn forgiveness that we can stop the patterns that have been handed down from generation to generation. I'll give you an example from my own personal history. I was blessed with two beautiful, intelligent, caring and courageous parents. The fact that I’m living the way I am today is a testament to their legacy of courage and determination against sometimes great odds. I am totally grateful for what they have given me. I honestly believe that if I were to carry my mother on my back for the rest of her life, I still would not be able to repay what she has given me.
However, both my parents were abused and neglected as children. My father was orphaned by the age of seven, having lost both his parents to disease and was subsequently raised by an older sister who was barely older than him. My mother was sexually and physically abused by her older brothers as a child and was a battered wife for 13 years at the hands of my father.
My earliest memories are of my mother using me as a shield to stop my father from beating her.
It took me a long time to even begin to understand all of this. I loved my parents dearly, as I know they loved me, but there was a lot of abuse and feelings of horror and abandonment in my childhood. I simultaneously adored -- worshipped -- and hated and feared my father, who could be loving and angry to the extreme. My mother, also a sweet and loving person, was quick with her hands, often smacking me in the face, eliciting within me feelings of hatred, which I then felt guilty for harboring.
People today are always amazed at my ability to size people up. I’m often right on point with my ability to analyze people, even if I choose to look at the better side of human nature. I’m no fool -- don't let the suit, tie, and smile fool you. LOL But the fact is that I learned how to read people as a child. I had to for my own survival because I had to know if the most important person in my life was going to hug or hit me. So I learned to read the body, listen for tones in the voice, check the eyes. I had to become good at this.
Growing up and listening to my mother’s screams or being beaten myself, I would promise myself that I would never re-enact these abuses to others. At those times, I hated my parents and felt guilt about that hate because they were my parents and I was taught that it was wrong for me to feel what I felt.
Years passed and I found myself the primary caregiver to my own son seven years of age. Imagine having me as a father! LOL!!! Whatever! My son and I had a great relationship. I can be very entertaining, to say the least. *wink* My son adored me and we had a very loving and honest relationship.
One day, he came home with a report card that wasn’t reflective of his abilities. My son was a gifted child but, as with many brilliant children, he lived in his own world, the “real” world sometimes being very boring. I was the same way. As a child, my mother would send me to the store and I would disappear for hours, causing a family hunt and more often than not, I would be found sitting somewhere daydreaming, or staring at the intricate patterns cracks made on the sidewalk. Anyway, that day I was feeling a little drained and I was feeling very frustrated because here I am, busting my butt, I'm thinking, stressing the importance of education to this kid and he’s not getting it!
So the more I’m talking to him the angrier I get, and the angrier I get, the more boundaries I trespass: by now I’m cursing at him and screaming and talking to him in a way I never did before. Heck, in my mind, I want to take him over my knee and spank the shit out of the little fucker.
All the while, there’s a part of me that’s “watching” all of this, but my body is in “fight or flight” mode, and I can't stop myself. By now, my son is crying and the more he cries the more frustrated I become and somewhere I know I'm losing control, that I’m going somewhere deep and dark and my son is terrified...
But all I want to do is kick this kid’s butt!
Just then, my son -- voice quavering and his body trembling -- my son pleads to me, “But Pops I don't understand, what do you want me to do? Please, tell me... ”
And my heart just melts right then and there because I look at my son’s face and see the tears and those beautiful blue eyes and at that moment I'm overwhelmed with love for my son. At that precise moment, I saw reflected in my son’s eyes, my own inner child and was vividly reminded of the horrors and trauma of my own childhood. It was as if his plea awakened me from an unconscious or deep-rooted rage and I became terrified myself.
Feeling as if I have awakened from a bad dream, all the fears, all the rage dissipates. I take my son in my arms and hold him tight, repeating over and over, “I’m so sorry... ”
You see? This is how patterns are repeated.
I realized right then and there that I had to find resolution with my own demons because if I didn’t, it would get passed down to my son and those that I love the most. Before I could be the father I wanted to be, I had to forgive my own parents, and let that rage go because that abuse was so powerful a force that it threatened everything that was important in my life.
I had to let go.
Fortunately, I was able to do that. I was also able to speak to my son about my own fears and how sometimes when he didn't do well in school, my fear was that he would eventually suffer as I did. It was an irrational fear, but that’s where my head went in those moments when I became most angry or fearful. MY son is a good man today, having just finished college and might be embarking on a music tour. I never had to hit my son for him to respect me. We respected each other and he would often want to do things. One day, my brother called me from Florida where Ian was staying for a couple of weeks fir summer vacation. It was late, about 11 PM on a Friday and I asked if everything was okay. He told me that he was in a Blockbuster with my son and that he offered my son the chance to pick out a porn flick. He told my son, that it would be their secret and that I didn’t have to know (grrrrrr… ). My son’s response was, “I can’t do that because my father and I respect each other and that would be wrong.”
Eventually, I learned that my anger stemmed from a deep-rooted fear – probably the fear I experienced as a child in an abusive home.
Did I become the “model” father after that day? No!!! LOL!!! But that day I began to understand the importance of forgiveness and letting go because letting go is not just something you do, it's something you become.
Forgiveness is not saying that what you or someone else did is ok. Rather, forgiveness is a state of being in which you allow yourself to get rid of the fear and rage through a long and slow, but necessary process. The price you pay for not letting go is pain, not just for yourself, but for those closest to you.
Maybe today we can begin to entertain the possibility of being forgiven and letting go of past mistakes.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Morir Soñando

To Die Dreaming…

… The thought of her awakens me sometimes, from the middle of dreams I can’t remember, it’s not the image of her face, the softness of her skin, but just the sudden awareness of her total beauty – that first strike before any of the details become clear -- that jolts me awake and leaves me longing on the broken shoals of my bed.

For just a moment, I’m upset she’s not here with me, but then the anger subsides into longing, and I stand and pace, haunting the darkness of my room, thinking of possibilities. Gradually, I come to the awareness that there’s no reason for anger, only choices. I ponder all this for what seems like hours and it’s the thought of her beauty that makes me lie back on my bed, weighing me down so that I plummet through the thin fabric of wake and sleep and drown in the middle of dreams I don’t remember…

All rights reserved ©

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Violence against Women, pt. II (Survivors)

¡Hola! Everybody,
Whoa! How is everybody doing? I’ve been blown away by yesterday’s comments. It just never ceases to amaze me, though I have yet to meet a woman who doesn’t have some form of abuse in her past.

Not one.

I want to thank all the women who came to my blog yesterday and shared what I know are very personal and painful experiences. I especially want to thank those that were brave enough to share their experiences regarding Bryson and in that way serving as a warning to other women. I appreciate the courage that took and I also know he and his flunkies are trying to attack you. Please know that I got your back and that I will continue to apply the heat on this punk.

Bryson! Wassup, bro?!! Cat’s gotcha tongue? C’mon, big fella: I’m giving you a chance to defend yourself. For those that don’t already know, I’ve exposed William Bryson for the coward that he is. He’s a convicted woman beater and he continues to prey on women on the internet. Most recently, he was trying to hit on a teenager on Myspace. I know this because the young lady Bryson has targeted was a friend’s relative. In addition, several women have come out publicly (several more privately) citing Bryson’s predatory tactics of intimidation, lying, physical threats, and plain old terrorizing women.

Bryson is a coward of the worst degree and he’s no man, AFAIC. If you have him on your friends’ list, be careful. If you don’t believe me, read yesterday’s blog and especially the comments section. There you will see for yourself the kind of creep he is.

* * *

Violence against Women, pt. II (Survivors)
“To be a survivor–first you must bleed. You bleed all that was inside of you: the pain, the memories, the fear, the wounds fusing together... You bleed not once but several times. And when you are empty, you either fade into a shadow or find the strength and courage to live. When you stand up again, you are for a time, hollow–empty, like a bottle of beer lying on the street, cracked and reeking of its bitter contents. Then you fill yourself up with the new, your recreate yourself–you reform. You don’t have the same heart or mind. The way you see the world is forever changed.”
-- Comment by a survivor written in “The Last Straw” blog

People who fail to empathize with the issue of domestic violence often ask why an individual would stay in an abusive relationship. Most people like to apply simplistic “solutions” or rationales for complicated issues because it helps them make sense of a world gone slightly mad. I’m not an “expert” on domestic violence, though I have worked with women and batterers in the past. In fact, the first group I ever ran was a group of male batterers. And obviously I am a man. Those are biases and I offer this series fully conscious of my place in society as a man and also as a survivor of a childhood traumatized by domestic violence.

as I stated above, I posted on one particular predator, but I haven’t finished exploring that avenue just yet. In coming blogs I will offer what I hope will be helpful for those looking to avoid men like Bryson: what to look for and how to cope with such people. In addition, I will be offering resources for those interested. Please know that if you’re reading this and you’re being hurt, that you’re not alone. It’s important that you know this.

today, I’m simply offering a poem that I used to hand out to my groups. It’s a powerful statement.

Missoula Rape Poem
-- by Marge Piercy

There is no difference between being raped
and being pushed down a flight of cement steps
except that the wounds also bleed inside.

There is no difference between being raped
and being run over by a truck
except that afterwards men ask you if you
enjoyed it.

There is no difference between being raped
and losing a hand in a mowing machine
except the doctors don't want to get involved,
the police wear a knowing smirk,
and in small towns you become a veteran whore.

There is no difference between being raped
and being bitten by a rattlesnake
except that people ask if your skirt was short
and why you were out anyway.

There is no difference between being raped
and going head first through a windshield
except that afterwards you are not afraid of cars
but of half the human race.

Fear of rape is a cold wind blowing all of the time
on a woman's hunched back
Never to stroll alone a sand road
through pine woods;
Never to climb a trail across a bald
without that aluminum in the mouth
when I see a man climbing towards me.

Never to open the door to a knock
without that razor just grazing the throat.
The fear of the dark side of the hedges,
the back seat of the car,
the empty house rattling keys like a snake's warning.
The fear of the smiling man
in whose pocket is a knife.
The fear of the serious man
in whose fist is locked hatred.


The Last Straw: a blog offering “Support, Motivation, Tips and Warning Signs of Domestic Violence” It also offers free ebooks for readers: self help, depression, overcoming fear and more. Also an ebook for helping children mourn loss.



Monday, April 21, 2008

Violence Against Women, pt. I (Predators)

¡Hola! Everybody,
I woke up this morning wanting to be wrapped in the arms of a woman -- to feel her soft translucent skin against mine. sheesh...

As promised, today is my first installment on my series on violence against women. I would like to first point out that it is impossible to tease out sexism and racism. Both are inextricably intertwined especially when it comes to women of color...

* * *

“It’s never right for a man to hit a woman.”
-- My Mother

Some of my earliest memories are of my mother using me as a shield so that my father would stop hitting her.

Fact: Every day four women die in this country as a result of domestic violence, the euphemism for murders and assaults by husbands and boyfriends. That’s approximately 1,400 women a year, according to the FBI. The number of women who have been murdered by their intimate partners is greater than the number of soldiers killed in the Vietnam War.

From early on, I knew too well the sound of fist on skin as my father pummeled my mother’s body, reaching around me to get at my mother. My parents were young, barely out of their teens living in a hostile society at best indifferent to their culture and way of life. I hold no resentments to either parent, and I love them dearly. But our story needs to be told so that others will not have to live in shame.

Please note that what I am about to disclose is not meant to put anyone down. I have no axe to grind, nothing to gain by posting the following, but I have a deeply felt sense that cowards who would prey on women need to be exposed. I had some strong reservations putting this out because I myself am a convicted felon and I believe that people should be given a chance to pick up the pieces of their lives. My crimes weren’t violent in nature, but I do feel my actions served helped undermine the foundations of the communities and the people I loved. I have since attempted to dedicate my life to giving back to those very same communities and have worked long and hard to create an inner transformation.

Fact: Although only 572,000 reports of assault by intimates are officially reported to federal officials each year, the most conservative estimates indicate two to four million women of all races and classes are battered each year. At least 170,000 of those violent incidents are serious enough to require hospitalization, emergency room care or a doctor's attention.

I find this is not true with some predators. Some men like to prey on women and that I cannot abide. Some of you may have read about the issue I had with an individual who calls himself “Bryson” or “William Bryson.” We had words and when he attempted to use intimidation tactics on me, I held him up to ridicule. I consider this man a coward and dangerous. Shortly after posting that blog, I received several private messages from women who claim that Bryson had abused them, or in some way preyed on them. At first, I was skeptical, too many people here have resentments. But too many women, who for obvious reasons, will not speak out, have told me this man has wronged them, stolen from them, and other wise taken from them.

Fact: Every year approximately 132,000 women report that they have been victims of rape or attempted rape, and more than half of them knew their attackers. It's estimated that two to six times that many women are raped, but do not report it. Every year 1.2 million women are forcibly raped by their current or former male partners, some more than once.

I always say, if everybody is calling you a horse, then you had better take a look back there, you might be growing a tail. Recently, I heard from another friend, Bryson is now hitting on teens on MySpace. I mean, it doesn’t take much to know if a girl is underage, especially if she’s wearing cheerleader costumes and the pictures say “High School” in the backdrop. Mind you, I am not saying he has committed any crime (this time), but it does call into question his character.

As for crimes, Mr. Bryson is a convicted woman beater. He was arrested more than once and convicted on at least one felony charge for what I consider violent acts against women (see the resources section at the end of this post). That itself shouldn’t be cause for this post. As I said, I believe in the redemptive powers of the human spirit. However, it seems that Bryson hasn’t changed much since his arrests and convictions.

Bullies are at their core cowards and weaklings. Any man that hits women is a coward. It's never okay for a man to hit a woman, even if she hits you. Sorry, but if you feel physically threatened by a woman enough to hit her, you're a fuckin' punk. an ex of mine once slapped me in the face -- possibly the worst thing you can do to me. I despise it. I would have rather she punched me -- but she slapped me. At that moment I jumped at her and in my heart I had hate. But my mother was right:

There is never an excuse for a man to hit a woman.


This is for all the women this creep has preyed on. This is for all the women he stole from and abused but were afraid to say anything for fear of retribution. This is for all the men who think it’s funny and masculine to hit women. What follows is a snapshot of a coward. What follows is Bryson uncovered:

He lives with his parents

Washes dishes at a country club in Missouri

Is a convicted woman beater (see “Resource” section below.

Never sees his child

Has screwed at least five women here on 360 -- in some instances the issue was so extreme that they closed off their pages.

He claims to have sold a script to DreamWorks that is being turned into a movie right now. However, he’s been claiming this for years. His latest ruse is to say the writer’s strike is pushing everything back. I doubt this man can write at a 7th grade level, let alone at a level where a major Hollywood studio would consider him as a scriptwriter. In his words with me, for example, he didn’t know the difference between “there,” “their,” and “they’re,” or “no,” and “know.” He confuses “to,” “too,” and “two.” He must have a damned good editor, I say.

::blank stare::

Lastly, that caddy he’s driving? It’s in his mother’s name.

What motivates me to post this is that from what I see, Bryson hasn’t changed much from the time he was being arrested for beating women. He tried to bully me into submission, telling me I should “ask around” in order for me to get a better idea who I was “messin’ with.” We turned that phrase into a joke: “ask around.” Ask who, mafucca?!! In prison, people like him would ask to be housed in protective custody (“PC”) because in prison, those who prey on women become the prey. We used to call such people “bitches.”

I will end this by saying that if Bryson can prove me wrong, then I will detract my statements and like a man offer a public apology. My blog, unlike Bryson’s, is open for anyone to comment. Speak for yourself, Mr. Bryson. Or maybe you only get tough with women?




This information is provided as a service and is not considered an official court record.

16CR98001196-01 - ST V WILLIAM N BRYSON


Description: Aggravated Stalking- 1st Offense Or Stalking 2nd Offense { Felony D RSMo: 565.225 }

Date: 11/01/1997 Code: 3422000 Disposition: Guilty Plea - 08/24/1998

OCN: 97006050


Sentence: Incarceration DOC

Sentence Date: 10/22/1998 Start Date: 10/22/1998 Length: 3 Years

Text: CVCF, $46.00, and Shock Incarceration Program




Start Date: 02/16/1999 Assigned Length: 3 Years



Classification: REPORT ORDERED


Start Date: 10/19/1998 Assigned Length: 120 Days Completed Date: 02/16/1999

Next Charge/Judgment

Description: Violation Of Order Of Protection For Adult { Misdemeanor A RSMo: 455.085 }

Date: 10/16/1997 Code: 2608400 Disposition: Guilty Plea - 08/24/1998

OCN: 97006050


Sentence: Incarceration DOC

Sentence Date: 10/22/1998 Start Date: 10/22/1998 Length: 120 Days

Text: Concurrent to : count 1

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Sunday Sermon (Love)

¡Hola! Everybody,
This coming week will be the [un]Common Sense week for raising awareness on the issue of violence against women. For those who think women are getting preferential treatment, think again! If the amount of violence visited upon women in this country were directed at men, there would be a military lock down on all our rights.

Stay tuned. Starting tomorrow, I plan to make examples of some predators here on 360…

* * *

-=[ Love ]=-

Yup. You read that right: the Big “L.”

The word we all are scared to utter even when we’re feeling it in the very fiber of our being. Some people will go for most of their lives and hardly ever utter the word to those they most love. It’s even scarier in romantic relationships. We worry and strategize: What if I tell her I love her? Will she reject me? Will she use it against me? Will she think me to clingy? Will he say he loves me too? And what if he doesn’t say it?!!

Yup. The Big Nasty Hairy Obscene “L” Word.

We’re all afraid to say it. Or if we do say it, we’ll play semantics with the “L” word.

We’ll draw distinctions between loving someone and being in love. Apparently, there is a difference. LOL! No, I’m not that dense. I realize that when people make that distinction, they’re pointing out the difference between the attraction of the feeling of love and actually committing to it and letting it flower.

Or maybe not. I don’t know.

I’m a complicated man so I try to make things simple. For me Love is an action word, it’s something you do. When I tell you I love you it means I’m going to work at loving you. It means I am committed to loving you by acting on my feelings for you. That means that I will attempt to accommodate your feelings, be considerate, protect you, make love to you, compromise with you, do the things I know makes you feel wanted and valued. That’s what the Big “L” Word means to me. When I tell you I love you, it means I headed in a direction of a life with you and all that that implies.

So, I don’t know if there’s a huge difference there for me between love and being in love. For me it’s like being pregnant: you’re never half pregnant. You’ll never hear a woman say, “I’m pregnant, but not in pregnant with you.” That’s why I stopped making that distinction. When I love, it’s with my soul, nothing held back, caution thrown to the wind. Believe me, in this life it’s the only risk worth taking. Of course, it doesn’t mean I ain’t shitting in my pants the whole time because it’s fuckin’ scary opening up like that.

Furthermore, I become unbearable because inside I want to sabotage the whole thing and in that way not have to do it. I jump, then in mid air, I’m screaming like a bitch because why do I have to fall in love, GODDAMIT! And yet I still take the risk because when they finally come for me to put me in some decrepit nursing home where the nurses will refuse to wipe my ass for hours, I don’t want to be laying there in my shit regretting that I didn’t love in that way. That I didn’t take the risks.

I think the core issue with love is that it will enter into any mind that truly wants it. Your task is not to seek love, but seek instead all of the barriers within you that you built against it. I’ve heard it said that “Love waits on welcome, not on time.” When you want only love, you will see nothing else. If you could agree with me that love is in part a form of sharing, then how can you find it except through itself? I say, offer it and it will come to you because Love is attracted to itself. Offer hostility or contraction and love cannot exist, for it can only live in a space overflowing with peace.

I have earned that Love is already in me and that I need only to extend it outward. Going back to my perspective on Love as an action – that is the action: extending what is there already inside of me. Love is an act of will for the benefit of another. What a fuckin’ awesome revelation! Maybe that’s what my beloved means when she says she can fall in love with me.

Love is the most sacred word you can ever utter for Love is God and you could never know one without the other. Integrated, you could never again be unaware of love and Love would never fail to recognize you. And in this recognition, you will live in grace because Grace is the acceptance of Love within a world of hate and fear. In Love you will find gratitude because it goes hand in hand with love. Where one is the other must be found.

Love laughs at my defenses for the foolishness that they are and so Love will ask you to lay down all your weapons. Love without trust is impossible. People always ask me about my motivation to write in this way. I guess my aim ids to teach people to remember what they really are – to emphasize that there is no difference in what you really are and what Love is.

If all you did today was catch a glimpse of what truly is then you will have advanced on your path in an immeasurable way. See Love in you, and you will see it everywhere because it is everywhere.



Saturday, April 19, 2008

"Your Head Demands... "

¡Hola! Everybody,
It’s a lovely day today in The Center of the Known Universe. I plan to do what I enjoy most: walk through the throngs of people – alone yet surrounded by humanity. What a joy it would be to share this mundane pleasure with you...

Hope you all are well, rested, and happy…

* * *

Now [no. 17]

Your head demands
a new equation every time.

One moment
your flexed eyelids
proclaim your mind a vault,
and the final click
of those tumblers is deafening.

Sometimes you give way,
flaking rust like the cliché
of a complaining screen door
unaware of its transparency.

But just now –
this very moment –
I dipped gingerly into
your tender and muddled mind
as into a warm bath
to muse a while,
restore myself.
and soak.

-- Edward-Yemíl Rosario ©

Friday, April 18, 2008

[un]Common Sense Sex Blog (The Fool & Insanity)

¡Hola! Everybody...

First, let me wish my dear friend, Barb, a very happy birthday. Barb is one of the few people that really gets me and her responses to my posts are often dead on and insightful. I consider her a “spiritual” friend -- one of the millions of "cultural creatives" silently working to make this planet a better place. Many, many best wishes and un abrazo de hermano to you, Barb...


* * *

-=[ The Fool and Insanity ]=-
(or Cock Teasing 101)

I have a confession to make. I have been “Yahoobamboozled.” I should be chained to the 360 town square and laughed at by my 360 peers for allowing myself to be taken for a fool. You people should circle me and throw fruit at me and jeer because I consciously allowed myself to be played.


Against my better judgment, I became attracted to one of the most unreliable people I have ever met. Remind me how stupid I was, please! Would you have anything to do with a person who behaved in the following manner:

  • Never ever picked up the phone. Every phone call went directly to a “forwarding messaging system.” Every call.
  • Would say she would do things, but rarely followed through.
  • Stated she lived in one state but her return address on the sole correspondence ever sent was in a different state.
  • Would take days to respond to a message and often rationalized by stating that’s who she was, “take it or leave it.”
  • Was “too busy” to leave a comment or response, but wasn’t busy enough to leave dozens of comments all over the place.
  • When sent a poem, the only response (days later) was to correct a mistake.
  • Privately, I was someone she “could fall in love with,” but in public, she wouldn’t acknowledge me. At all.
  • She wouldn't send me something pleasant, but through the course of several hours she expended a lot of energy to send me a lot of hate.

I allowed all of the above and more.

Yup. Me.

And I state all this because this isn’t the person’s fault, it’s mine. And I'm not writing this to defend myself or to paint a picture. These are all observations on my part. And the thing is, I was warned by several people that the person in question was off. Shit, I ain’t no walk in the park and will own up to my own shit. In addition, I’m definitely not a victim. I allowed that shit to be done to me. What’s worse, I made plans to see this person!


Yup, I even bought tickets and rented a room with the intention to meet with a person who won’t even answer my phone calls! Now ain’t that some stupid shit?!! Please tell me I was stupid. I need to be reminded.

LOL! What a joke!

So in the spirit of hilarity, I invite each one of you to rub it in, because I deserve it. I allowed myself to be played and I got played good. But there’s an unseen benefit to all this because I will be going to Boston next week anyway and I will be meeting a friend.

When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade, right?

The thing is I will be there from Friday to Monday and my friend might not be able to get a sitter until Saturday, so I might be free Friday. If you live in the Boston area and would like to meet, PM me and I’ll send you my cellie. We can get together and laugh at life’s ironies.

I realize the individual in question may or may not get defensive and to that I will say that this really has nothing to do with her and everything to with me. I will not allow anyone to respond negatively about her. She is who she is, that’s how’s she’s living and more power to her. To every story there are many sides. The focus is here with me. If I’m allowing myself to be subjected to treatment beneath my standards, then I still have a lot of work to do.

After today I will not mention this episode again and I will be striving to erase this person from my thoughts. I guess I still have feelings and that's why I'm writing about it. To be perfectly honest, I have no ill feelings toward this person and I truly wish her whatever she desires. the truth is that we will eventually become inconsequential to one another. Not even a joke -- something that didn't matter. But it sure doesn't feel like that today. You might think I’m bitter, but really I’m not. If I were bitter, this blog would be a lot different, believe me. For the sake of sanity, some people need to be kept at a safe distance. I'm certain she probably feels the same way.




[un]Common Sense