I’ve been uncluttering my life lately, tossing stuff into piles labeled “Need”, “Want” and “Discard” — alternately: “Love”, “Like” and “Lose” — and nothing escapes scrutiny.
Nothing.
Including This. That. No Other.
A lot has happened since my last posts and I suppose an apology is in order for the broken promises to update here. I’m sorry. Stuff happened. Some good, some bad, some downright awful. And all of it leads me to variations on a theme: The End.
In late November I was enjoying the delightful company of the denizens of Vancouver’s The Pumpjack bar and although I was hungry, I felt full. So, rather than enjoying further the company of one gentleman in particular, whose staggering hotness is matched by his ultrafirm handshake, I beat a hasty retreat home and then out for a dinner which I didn’t — couldn’t — really enjoy. I slept not a wink that night, running periodically to the bathroom in an attempt to expel, from either end, that which seemed reluctant to be expelled.
The next day was worse. Chills, sweats, fever, excruciating abdominal pain and much rolling around in the fetal position on my bed. I begged to be taken to the hospital where I was quickly diagnosed not with food poisoning but with acute appendicitis. This was something I’ve been dreading for, oh, 40 years or so, as my mother (and her father) had had nightmarish, near-death experiences with their appendix removals. Mine wasn’t close to rupturing; it had practically disintegrated. Once discovered, however, I was treated quickly and professionally and sent out the door a couple of days later to recuperate.
While I was lying in the Emergency Room in mind-shattering pain, thinking that I might actually see The End (of My Life) before the night ended, my relationship — the one which brought me to Vancouver — was secretly ending, too. I found this out a few days later, amends were made and promises… promised. Two months after that, it officially ended. There are some events from which no relationship can recover, I suppose, and without question we’re now both better positioned to pursue that which we separately want to pursue. I wish him well. Honestly.
So I am a man alone now. And I am much happier for it, for the record.
Recovery from the surgery was slower than I’d have liked and I was deeply frustrated at not being able to exercise at all. But I healed and got back into shape. And was struck down, again, by a nasty, four-week flu. Not that you need to be told this, but you seriously do not want to be assessing (and reporting on) your life while engaged in a flu-fight.
The Olympics came to Vancouver and it was pretty spectacular — recent official break-up notwithstanding — and I had a helluva good time. But… again I was feeling poorly. And I wound up, once again, in the Emergency Room. It seems I developed prostate problems as a result of a 35-year-old cycling injury. I won’t go into details but I will say that I’m really fuckin’ tired of taking antibiotics and I have two more weeks to go. And then surgery. But, honestly? I’m eager to have it done as, like my appendix, this inevitable surgery has been hanging over me for the greater part of my life, cropping up every four or five years and that, I hope, won’t happen after May.
So, yeah, The End. Of my appendix, my relationship, the last flu of the season and my recurring prostate issues.
And The End of this blog as you know it.
Since moving to Vancouver, the flavour of my posts here has changed quite radically, and its whole raison d’être — railing against the serious dysfunction in Toronto — seems moot. I’m happy here. Really happy. No city is perfect, but this city is perfect for me.
I started noticing, too, a growing, personal frustration at the fake compartmentalization of my life, a life in which there really isn’t much compartmentalization at all. My online existence is represented by four different and distinct personæ and yet… in real life there is but one. And the ranty, curmudgeonly, bstewart23 persona, which served as useful a purpose as, say, William Burroughs’ “routines” — which eventually became Naked Lunch — needs an overhaul. Concurrent with this deeply personal observation was the increasingly-incandescent, online self-immolation of a former confidant, who now seems incapable of slowing his descent into unintentional self-parody. I so don’t want to do that.
Over the past four months or so, I’ve been recommended Alan Downs’ The Velvet Rage, an exploration of the consequences of growing up gay in a straight society, by four or five people whose opinions I value greatly. I’d avoided it because the central premise — that all gay men are affected by the deep shame resulting from their differentness — doesn’t quite mesh with my experience; I don’t really exhibit any symptoms of shame (of which, of course, you were already very much aware, right?). I picked it up and wish I’d done so much earlier.
The Velvet Rage is a deeply-affecting work, and I cannot recommend it highly enough to all gay men, especially those older than 30. If you don’t recognize yourself within its pages, you will certainly recognize your friends and your lovers, past and present. And having your eyes opened to a significant cause of the truly shitty things we do to ourselves and others, we can set out on a path to authenticity.
Which brings me back to this blog, which had become increasingly inauthentic. So it’s over. Done. The End. Besides, the updates to the software seriously fucked the commenting system, so the whole damn thing needed an overhaul anyway.
I hope you’ve been well. I’ve missed you. And I’ll see you here soon. New, improved, more authentic. I’m really fuckin’ excited. No, really, you guys. Life is good. I’m working on “Love”, “Like” and “Lose”. And it’s great.
Love fearlessly, y’all.
21 comments
Okay, if you’ve come this far, you’ll notice that the appearance of the blog has changed a bit. Growing pains, people. Upgrading the blogging software and the theme and whatnot. It was more important for me to set this ship to sea than to make sure all the sails were rigged properly. My choice, you don’t have a say. I’m workin’ on it.
Peace.
What I lack in the ability to formulate into words, I offer instead a hug. Or several, as the need may warrant. And I personally look forward to more! (Not just the hugs, but from you!)
Been missin’ your thoughts and words and best wishes to you. Hope you will let us all know where and when any “new” blog will develop. Hugs.
Brett — what a heartfelt message. I am sorry for your health and relationship challenges. But I identify very much with your observations of getting trapped in a persona that you have moved on from. Very wise words. Good luck. I also feel my dwerk persona that I use only on JMG may be coming to a close for me so I can very much relate to what you said here. Good luck. You seem to have found your port after many storms.
It is hard keeping up with a blog and lord knows that your health circumstances were miserable. I’ve missed you! I am so sorry you have gone through hell, but I am glad you have survived. And I hope that I will see you again in your new and improved fashion.
Brett,
Best wishes to you. I’ve enjoyed reading your writing for several years now and will miss your insights on life. I’m glad you are happy with your life in Vancouver. We (the unwashed blog-reading masses) will miss you.
Marc
A couple of things occur to me: firstly, that y’all are tremendously kind and an inspiration to me to continue this dealio. Thanks for the very kind words. And it also occurs to me that I perhaps could’ve been more clear in that what’s ending is not the blog but, rather, the blog as it used to be.
I’m so sorry to hear about all of this, but I’m very happy you are now in a good place.
I too am searching for the Authentic.
And thanks for the book recommendation…
Sorry you are going through tough times, glad to see update — love your blog and your insights.
Will check out The Velvet Rage, as I too had been avoiding it for the same reasons as you, and am now intrigued.
I look forward to the new blog whatever it may be…
*BigBearHUGS* just *BigBearHUGS*
Best wishes Brett. Thank you.
Our loss was Vancouver’s gain and so it will always be. Missing you like crazeee. Welcome back. XOXO
{{{{{bstewart}}}}}
Cascading health crises are so tough and frightening to go through.
Here I am cleaning up my RSS feeds and I see this. Nice. Well now what am I going to do?
Facebook it is. Ugh.
You selfish, selfish, selfish girl! Appendicitis, lost partner, four week flu – Boo hoo, boo hoo! Who invited Debbie Downer and Patty Party Pooper? So Mister “Love, Like, and Lose”, how the hell am I supposed to know what to rail against now? How will I know what hottie to check out on Thursdays? What source do I have for cool musak (BTW: still totally love “Lovely Allen” by Holy Fuck!)? And, who will remind me how stinky Toronto is compared to Vancouver? Hmmm. Seriously bud, stay well, stay healthy and let me know when the new blog is up, plus connect with me when you next come to Hell Town, Ontario.
Well put- One end is really the beginning of something new!
Well, damn. I’m sorry your relationship ended (even if you are ok) and that your blog is ending. Damn.
As with Erik, I offer you a big hug for all the stuff you’ve gone through over the last couple of months. While we all know that life is a series of experiences, they really shouldn’t be packed into such a short timeframe. Kudos to you for making the most of it and cleaning house!
One thing your post has encouraged me to do is be a little more active with my own blogging. I’ve drawn a lot of inspiration from yours (and other bloggers) that are out there. Who know – I may even make turn on the “public” setting, so it’s more than just an electronic diary!
Best wishes on EVERYTHING!!
My heart sank when I read this knowing where it was headed.. I am a straight woman from across the pond who stumbled here by accident and stayed.. Reading this i thought of those lines, “just being alive, it can really hurt..” You are a wonderful guy. Please come back and say hello sometime…as it suits.
Love XX
P.S. Thanks for the Sagan. Beyond eloquent.
Finally found the blog, Brett. I thought MY appendicitis was traumatic. Nope…you win.
Nice to hear that Vancouver is *almost* perfect for you.
100% awesome blog.
appendicitis … picture it, 1986, second year of university, i have a psych exam in the morning. horrible stomach pain while i’m trying to study, get taken to emergency, where a nurse thinks it’s just anxiety for the test, sends me home, i’m back an hour later, my family doctor is on call and looks at me right away, gives me the proper diagnosis, and operates on the spot.
i remember taking stock of everything i had at the time – my boyfriend, our dog Dexter, my csts tigger and squeak, and my family – all of wgom i’d left behind in saskatchewan.
funny what goes thru your mind when you think the end is near.
snd i wish i’d written down the name of the nurse who said i was having an anxiety attack over that test – i ended up missing the test, but was given a re-write, which i aced.