radiopeter

I’m hungry. My teeth are uncomfortable. I’m peeing like a madman, and I have the sniffles.

And it’s Halloween, a day when I’m supposed to be having fun and enjoying life. But not right now.

I’m glad I’m fasting. It’s going to be super great this weekend and my body will thank me later.

I’m glad I’m wearing braces, even if they are invisible, and even if they do hurt.

Just a rough day and I needed to vent a bit.

Chattin’ about my new teeth, work drama, smart podcasts, and DJing.

Ok, so my site had some problems with the RSS feed, but I upgraded WordPress and all seems skippy now. Unfortunately I lost the few posts related to Invisalign when I got them installed. Oh well.

But I’m back. Will have a podcast soon…

I heard this track at, of all places, Roscoe’s while out with some Spin folks. It’s now stuck on repeat. Looking forward to hittin’ ‘em with it at prime time on Wednesday at Spin.

It’s my Turn by Mon-A-Q

it’s my turn
get outta my way
and it’s my turn
I’m heading higher
and higher and higher

there was a time
didn’t think I could make it
one more day
I never thought
I could take this all the way
shared my love
with anybody in need
I found the courage
I need for me
I’m gonna sing my song

and it’s my turn
I’m here to take it
get outta my way
’cause I’ve gotta make it
it’s my turn
got to keep on pushin’
I’m headin’ higher
and higher and higher
and it’s my turn
and nobody else
gonna take it away
is gonna take this away
and it’s my turn
I know I deserve it
I’m headin’ higher
and higher and higher

there was a love we had
I thought would never ever end
you were my lover
but now you’re not even my friend
I’ve wasted my time
coulda been shoulda been
livin my own dreams
no no no it’s not too late
now I’m singin’ for me

I can’t wait
I can’t stop
I’ve got to give love
all I’ve got
what I do
I do just for me

Watch ‘em move!

Ok, so the receptionistas got it wrong. I only needed to stop in to verify the teeth movements and see if I was satisfied with my final results. My ortho showed me a bunch of 3D animations online of my teeth movements and there’s tons of good news to be had.

First, it’s only going to take 8 months or so for the top teeth to move into place. I don’t have much wrong with them, so that’s good. Only one tooth is ‘behind’ another. Otherwise it’s pretty easy to align them.

Second, my bottoom teeth won’t need more than a year to move, which is great news. They may even fall into line at around the 10 month mark, so less than a year in trays.

And finally, some of the best news, my back teeth WON’T NEED TO MOVE AT ALL which means less pain and very little jaw stress. Since all the movement will be up front, it’s a much easier treatment course. Yee-haw!

The trays have now been ordered. They’ll arrive in a couple weeks.

I’m gonna have quite a few speedbumps on my teeth. Eleven to be exact. Those appear as the red dots in the video that I’m going to post right after this one.

It’s gonna happen. Soon.

Can’t wait!

This morning at 9:45 I have an appointment with the ortho to start with my first set of trays. I’m a bit nervous but mostly curious.

Will I need a million dots cemented on my teeth to move them around a lot? Will it hurt so much that I’ll be awake at night? How much weight will I really lose? (that’s a silly question, but I’m thinking about it)

My friend Jerry said he had them for about a year when they first came on the market. He said THEY HURT, so we’ll see. I’m eyeing a bottle of the white man’s poison (advil) at the moment and methinks I might take one or two as a precaution.

Life is gonna change once I get these things in my mouth. Not a bad thing, but it’s definitely going to change. I shall report back once I’ve returned from the ortho.

Snow!!!

Today is National Coming Out Day. N.B. the wikipedia page was vandalized previously and has now been restored.

In 1991, when I was 15 years old I started coming out of the closet. I had seen the movie “Paris Is Burning” and realized that if they felt comfortable in their skin, I could too.

I’ve always known I was gay. I hung out with the girls and talked about the boys constantly. But I didn’t learn the word for it until around the age of 6 or 7. Somewhere in there I realized that all the names I was being called in school were true.

Indeed, I am a faggot. I am a homo. I am gay.

But I’m not only gay. I’m an artist, a dreamer, a friend, a lover, an enemy, a DJ, a DBA, a queer podcaster, a Greek-American, a cook, a Chicagoan, a photographer, a musician, an employee of one of the best queer publications ever, an employee of one of the best investment banks ever, the son of both an incredible man and woman, a brother to two sisters, the owner of two cats, a free spirit, and someone who is falling harder than he should for someone else.

Gay doesn’t define me. It’s just part of my definition.

No silly, not the Dutchess of York, Fergie of the ‘Peas. Or should I call her Stacy ferguson.

My friend DJ Stoney was right. Her album The Dutchess is kinda fierce. There are some great tracks, including one that keeps ripping my heart out called “Losing My Ground”.

That’s kinda how I’m feeling. The ground feels very shaky right now.

Will it pass?

and so hard.

Even my cats like him. That’s not to say that they are the only ones to approve people in my life, but Meo and Oberon are more than thrilled with his company. As am I.

Webster has two definitions of the word selfish that I’d like to share.

Pronunciation: ’sel-fish
Function: adjective
1 : concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself : seeking or concentrating on one’s own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others
2 : arising from concern with one’s own welfare or advantage in disregard of others

‘concerned excessively with oneself’ - check
‘arising from concern with one’s own welfare’ - check

But everything else listed does NOT apply to what’s happening right now. I am overly concerned with how he feels. He’s overly concerned with how I feel. There is caution around every corner, and there is affection from both sides. Isn’t that is the exact opposite of selfish?

Whatever happens today and whatever we can enjoy right now is worth it’s weight in gold. Nobody knows what happens tomorrow. Nobody knows if the sky will fall in the next ten minutes.

This is the most difficult thing I’ve been through when I’m not with him, and yet, it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done when he is around.

lyrics from “Groovejet (If This Ain’t)” (Spiller, featuring Sophie Ellis-Bextor)

Holding you closer
It’s time that I told you
Everything’s going to be fine
Know that you need it
And try to believe it
Take me one step at a time

So my ortho’s office just called. Apparently they have my Invisalign stuffs all ready to go. But in our initial talks, they didn’t tell me I had to put another $1000 down. I already put $500 down for the impressions and stuff. And now another $1000? Jeez.

I hafta wait a week or two before I go dropping that kinda coin so quickly. The upshot is that on the 19th I should be getting my first set of Invisalign trays. As promised, I’ll keep each and every one of you involved with my Invisalign progress. Photos, pictures, commentary, the works.

And when my teeth hurt and I need to rage, trust me, you’ll hear about it.

pallbearer: a person who helps to carry the coffin at a funeral; also : a member of the escort or honor guard of the coffin who does not actually help to carry it

I woke up in bed on Saturday morning in the arms of a friend. It was comfortable and safe, warm and gentle. Like hugs from Mom, only better. We chatted for a bit and giggled like little kids. Lots of smiles. I’m not sure if life ever gets better than moments like that. No worries, no stress, and no drama clouding the moment.

After he left, I received a call from my friend Tiffany. Her mother, Sharon Ann Cesario, had passed away. She phoned to ask if I would be able to make it to the wake and the funeral.

Many of you understand how much of a problem I have with the custom of ‘the wake’. I dislike the ritual. But rituals serve a purpose for many, and so because Tiff has been a part of my life for so many years, I understood that she needed me.

I spent the rest of the day Saturday crying. I had tickets to go see Judy Tenuta, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house. I felt heavy. How did I get from such an incredibly happy morning to a dark and heavy evening?

I woke up Sunday with a smile, until I realized my arms weren’t around him. They were around a cold pillow. The bedroom was cold and damp. I felt hollow. My apartment seemed so still.

He wasn’t there.
Damn, I wish he could have been there.

Sunday and Monday are still a blur. I know I was at the funeral home all day Sunday, and stayed with the family that night. And when I arrived on Monday, Tiff asked me if I would be a pallbearer.

Me.
She asked me to carry her mother to her grave.
I’m still in awe and supremely honored that she asked me.

—

Sharon Ann Cesario was one of those woman who was as tough as steel when and as gentle as a kitten. The very first time I met her at her house, Tiff introduced me as ‘Pete from the store’. Tiff and I worked at the Walgreen’s in the Harlem - Foster Shopping Plaza for a number of years together.

I think I said something like ‘Nice to meet you Mrs. C’, and her quick wit (which I’d come to know soon after that) immediately kicked in as she said:

‘If you call me Mrs. C again, I’ll stick my foot in your ass.’ and she proceeded to laugh so heartily that I burst into laughter with her. She put her arm around me, and immediately I was family. From then on, it could have been years since I’d seen her, and we were still tight.

Sharon, or Shar as I remember calling her, was one of those Chicago women of Italian descent that I love to be around. Family and Food = love in their world. Shar always asked me how my family was, and if I’d eaten anything. And no matter how I’d answered the second question, she’d still ask me if I wanted some coffee and offer me some food.

She raised Tiff as a single mom, which knowing Tiff the way I do, couldn’t have been an easy thing. Shar was a hairdresser, the only real therapists in this world, and she had the knack of listening well and saving up every detail until the next time you spoke. She was also a dedicated Walgreen’s employee for many years, which means something truly special to those of us who worked at Walgreen’s for many years.

But most telling of all, she was the kind of woman you didn’t need more than a cup of coffee and a comfortable chair to hang out with. For hours and hours we could talk about everything in the world. She had a fascinating perspective on life.

As I sit here, writing with a tear in the corner of each eye, I know she’s somewhere in heaven, asking about everyone’s family and trying to get them all to eat something.

I miss you Shar. But I can’t wait to catch up with you when my time comes.

I’ll bring the sweets if you make the coffee.

And we’ll talk.

Me, Jonathan, and Emmanuel Garcia at Macy’s Glamorama 2006 on Friday September 29th, 2006, taken by Emmanuel’s friend.

Handsome bunch, no?