June has been a horrible month... at least, for me.

First, I had an intense, adverse reaction to abruptly coming off my anti-depressants. It was stupid of me to stop taking them the way I did. But I didn't think they were working, and the $40 per prescription was money better spent elsewhere. After six weeks, I thought I was in the clear. Then one night, I crashed. It was severe and scary, and it started a month-long journey back to normal that still has me feeling a bit wobbly.

Then there were unexpected financial issues that are better left undetailed here. I'm still ironing those out, but I think (and pray) that I have it all under control. Time will tell. I'm still trying to figure out how it can be that I'm making more money now than I ever have in my life, but I'm also more broke than I've ever been in my life.

In the midst of all of this, I had to put together a week-long "history of gays in music" special for my show. I had terrific help in the leg work, thank goodness. But the pressure for it to be extra-good was ALL on me. I think we pulled it off. But who knows? After all, for every positive word, there's one that's negative. I still have a live edition of my Sunday afternoon music show to do tomorrow, and then I'll be done with pride season for another year.

Then, there is my 46th birthday in a couple days. 46. Yikes. I've always loved the notion of getting older and maturing into a better version of my younger self. But this birthday is hard. For all of the beautiful things I have in my life, I'm still struggling with and for others. It feels harder than ever to keep pushing right now. I feel exhausted and a little broken down.

Things will get better. At the core of my life, I have the most amazing man in my partner. He has been a bona fide saint. He gives me endless love and hope when I feel empty. He is the best. My radio co-hort Keith has also been a good and true friend. Plus, I get to do work that I love... even though I'm grateful that it'll be a little while before I have to trace the coming out of another recording artist. :)

I'm just hoping that July is a little calmer!

"Fucking poseurs... with their fucking faux-hawks... once upon a fucking time, you either did it all the way, or you stayed the fuck home."

I chuckled to myself as the clerk at Revolution Records couldn't contain his disgust over a clique of young twentysomethings who left the store in an eye-rolling huff. They'd appeared shocked that they couldn't find "underground" remixes of "Pokerface" by Lady Gaga. The clerk, who looked about my 45 years of age, continued to rant to his co-worker for a good 15 minutes after the kids left.

Part of me understood his irritation. Revolution, I discovered Saturday afternoon, is among the scant few indie music shops left in downtown New York. Even more rare is the fact that it's not lost in punk nostalgia. It's an actual venue devoted to current grass-roots bands vying to be the counter culture to a Lady Gaga-dominated musical landscape. And it's drowning in a sea of shops within a five-mile radius that is glutted with crap by Gaga and her contemporaries.

It's funny. As I stood in that shop, I felt completely out of place. I was no longer steeped in that counter culture. I flipped through the racks of discs and recognized only a scant few bands. I felt as uninformed as those twentysomethings, but I felt as cranky about those kids as the clerk did. I'd just spent several hours tracing the paths I used to walk when I was younger. Most of my favorite haunts were either gone or barely hanging on. Cue "This Used To Be My Playground" by Madonna.

As I wandered, I found myself remembering more than the places I loved visiting back in the '80s. I remembered my friends, most of whom are long-gone from my life. I remembered record-shopping, going clubbing, hanging out in cafes and diners. I remembered fantasizing about the future. The places I'd visit someday. The stuff I wanted to do. The man I wanted to become. All the while, my iPod pumped a playlist of songs from that period of my life. At one point, I felt so completely overwhelmed by memories and forgotten dreams that I needed to sit down. Of course, I landed in the hang-out hub of downtown Manhattan: Washington Square Park.

In so many ways, I've made it. I've escaped my family and their endless drama. I have a terrific man in my life. And I have a job that I genuinely enjoy. But in other ways, I'm still waiting for my actual life to begin... the part of life where I feel free. Completely free. You know what's funny? I used to know what complete freedom looks like. In my mind. Back in my 20s, it looked a lot like the accumulation of things I've achieved. Now, I'm not at all sure. Because, let's face it...

I'm nearly 46 and I'm still clearing the rubble of my childhood. I have a wonderful partner, but I also often feel like it's my responsibility to make sure that he's happy. To be clear and fair, he does NOT enforce or encourage that idea. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's all in my head. And I've come to accept that even the externally pretty jobs have occasional crap beneath the surface that distinguishes it from being a fun hobby. As the cliche goes, it's called "work" for a reason.

So, how does a life of good fortune leave you feeling bittersweet (as someone recently pointed out to me about my life)? Does aging require moments of melancholy over people and places that are no longer there? Is it wrong to be like that clerk in Revolution... clinging to the past, while trying to keep it alive in the present? I don't have an answer. Even if you try to answer it, I'm not sure I'll honestly believe that you really have it. Y'see, I don't know that there is an actual answer.

I enjoyed my afternoon strolling through my old "playground." Yes, it made me sad at times. But it also made me smile. It gave me an immeasurably feeling of joy and comfort. It was sweet to relive those days in my mind. I had a good time. I had good friends. I loved the youthful romance of the time. I believed the world was full of possibilities.

If there was anything I would like to bring back from my young adulthood, that would be it... to believe in possibilities... to look at life more like an open door and less like a locked room.

Onward...      :)

I spent most of today fidgeting around the apartment. The weather is crap in my town, and it's the day before payday. Not the best combination. For some reason, my phone has been ringing off the proverbial hook today with people trying to sell my car insurance, dental insurance, and space in a retirement village (HA!). It added to my increasingly crabby mood.

After a loving nudge from Shane to "give in to the activity of rest," I curled up in bed with the cats and my favorite "Gilmore Girls" DVD playing on the telly. It didn't take long before I'd gone from feeling mildly out of sorts to feeling lush and relaxed. I did it. I sucessfully turned my brain off. After two episodes, I started to drift off into a lovely nap. And then...

RING!

It was a call from work. Argh. I snapped out of bed and into work mode almost instantly. Fortunately, there was no drama, although the person who rang has a perpetual tone of terror in her voice. It took a moment to cut through that and realize that there was only a minor issue that needed my attention. Once I did that, I was able to be happy to have gotten the call. Being a life-long control queen, I prefer to make all decisions surrounding my show. I also hate returning from time off to surprises. I'd much rather be hunted down!

With that issue resolved, I climbed back into bed. It took about 15 minutes and another episode of "Gilmore Girls" for me to relax and unwind again. And then...

RING!

This time, it was Shane, urging me to check my email. How exciting it was to find his finished manuscript sitting there. I've been reading his efforts as he wrote them over the past year. But to open a file of 398 pages of his hard work. Wow. It was such a delicious moment. He's done a truly wonderful job. I cannot wait for the world to receive this book. It's funny and tragic and romantic and enlightening. I've been re-reading portions of the book since he hung up to hit the sack. I'm beyond proud of him.

After nearly throwing the phone against the wall today, I'm sure glad I picked up that last call.

So, I followed Shane's strong advice to reach out to a few old friends today. Remind me to never try that again.

Friend No. 1: Within 30 seconds, he was pitching himself and a recording artist I've already passed on as guests on my show. Never asked how I am. After the pitch and a brief monologue about his life, he hung up. This is a friend who has milked me for countless favors, and when I asked for one in return, he couldn't (or wouldn't) do it. Next! :)

Friend No. 2: My question of "how are you?" triggered a barrage of tales from his life. It's 20 or minutes later as I begin to type this. He's still going on in AIM IMs about himself, and he's yet to ask how I am. He's very sweet, but a little lost inside himself right now. I'm trying to tell myself that he probably doesn't get a word in with his partner, who is a bit overbearing and a chatterbox.

Friend No. 3: After a promising start of conversation, he asked, "How in the world did you get your job anyway? If you can be a radio host, don't you think I can, too? Can you get me a meeting there? I'd be so great on the radio, don'tcha think? Can you help me, please?" He gets a pass because I think unemployment panic is freaking him out. He's not really radio-ready, so I can't help him. But I did manage to calm him down a little.

I think my reclusive life is looking better now. :)

I don't think I'm doing this vacation thing properly.

It's Wednesday. Ideally, I've been free of work responsibilities since Friday afternoon. Hmmm... except for going into the studio on Sunday to record a special Memorial Day weekend edition of Feel The Spin... except for the 5 or so phone calls I've gotten from the office about silly stuff that could have waited until next week... and except for the fact that I'm going in today to record an interview with Adam Lambert and Kris Allen. The latter I want to do. Hell, if I'm going to labor through conversations with Jorge Nunez and Megan Joy, I'm getting my time with the two top dogs.

But it's not all external crap invading my time off. I don't really have anything special to do. Finances don't really allow for a trip, and Shane is in Wales. Mostly, I've been waking up pre-dawn, as usual. The body will do what it wants, and I'm so tightly set to my morning radio schedule that it's tough to break.

I've been mostly going for long walks. It's been nice. Good for clearing the head. But I'm also feeling static, a little bored, and like there should be more.

I was supposed to hang out with an old friend visiting from out of town this past weekend. I was stoked, since I don't really have any close friends to spend time with here. It didn't work out. First, she sorta blew me off. Then, I did the same. I felt bad for a moment. Then, I realized that silly circumstances would not have kept us from getting together, if we really wanted to see each other. I'm pretty certain that it was more a matter of us being in contact via email, and having to play out the "we must hang" game because she let slip that she was going to be in my town. It is what it is. I think we've both moved on.

Shane made a sadly valid point yesterday. He doesn't believe that I know how to relax. I think he's right. Once I stop moving, I start to obsess and stress about life. Will I ever feel financially solvent? What about this bill? What about that forthcoming expense? WIll I advance to the career level that I crave? Will the plans for Shane's move here next year happen without a hitch? Will we ever be able to get married properly with all of the federal protections we need? Will his book be successful? Will I ever lose weight? And it goes on... and on... and on... and on....

Ahh, the life of a chronic depressive! Hehehe...

The week isn't over, though. I'm going to give the rest of the week my best effort. At the minimum, I'm definitely enjoying not having to do the show for a few days. A break from the crush of show deadlines was so needed, and that part has been absolutely lovely.

Onward!

There are so many days when I bemoan the inordinate amount of time that I have to spend alone.

Not today. Today, I relished every moment I spent by myself.

First, I did my entire morning show alone. Keith needed to take the day off, and I grabbed the opportunity to test myself. What would it be like to be in the studio alone? I wanted to find out. Even though I've been doing Feel The Spin alone for several years, that's a pre-recorded show. Running a live board with commercials, phones, etc. is completely different. Ten minutes before air-time, I was nervous about the juggle.

Ten minutes into the show, I was having an absolute blast. The four hours that I was on the air sped by at lightning speed. There were no technical glitches. The phones hummed along as they always do. And I didn't fall on my face. I missed seeing my friend Keith, but I felt proud of myself. I'm now officially self-contained, self-sufficient, and not dependent on anyone to get myself and my show on the air. I love to collaborate. I love having someone to bounce off of. But I'm also a control queen. I need to know that I can run things as I see fit. I can. Even though it's not nearly as hard work, it feels like breaking the tape across the finish-line of a long Olympic marathon.

Tomorrow, the show goes back to normal, as Keith has been released from jury duty. It'll be awesome fun to have him back, though part of me wants to kick it solo again.

After work, I hit the street and enjoyed a nice long walk downtown. My favorite songs of the moment blasted out of my iPod and into my ears, as I pondered the future. There are so many little things I want to do for myself, starting with being more fit and more focused on my dreams. I love being part of a couple, part of a team, and part of a great company. But you're only good or of use to any of those things if you're keeping yourself happy. Simple concept. Hard to execute.

Today, I feel like I can do it.  :)

Every once in a while, the universe sends you a reminder of how much your life has changed over a chunk of time. I don't have a perfect life, but it's mine. I have a good partner, too many cats, and a job that I love. Alas, my 3am wake-up call for work has taken me out of life's "normal" loop. I don't get to see many of the friends I used hang with regularly. I don't even seem to be online at the same time as many of 'em. I was stoked when I ran into a great old pal on AIM a few minutes ago. And then...

Me:  So, how's it going? What's new?

Supposed Good Friend:  So much. Too much to type.

M:  I'm sure. Up to anything fun this weekend?

SGF:  We're all going to the Furball tonight, and then the Eagle later.

M:  All?

SGF:: Yeah, you know the usual crowd.

M:  Very cool. I was thinking that I might get out for a change, and go to the Furball. It would be so great to get see everyone. If I go, it'll be early. What time are you going to be there?

SGF:  Not sure. We're going to do dinner first. I'd ask you to join us, but it might be a little weird for everyone. Y'know, we've all sorta gone to a new place in our lives. I don't know how everyone would feel about adding someone to the mix on short notice. But it's nice to hear from you. Maybe we'll all do brunch or something sometime. I'll give you a call.

*signs off*

Huh? That felt odd and abrupt... especially from someone I once considered to be among my close friends. I'd been keeping in good email touch with him. Tried calling on the weekends. But contact dwindled over time. It's a bummer, but it happens.

Why do some people get so weird when you try to reconnect? I wasn't going to foist myself upon them tonight. Sure, I'd love some friendly company, but I'm not desperate. Also, I didn't expect them to sit frozen in time waiting for me. Like I said, I've long ago accepted that my old friends have moved on. What can you do, right? You settle into your current rhythm until a new one comes along.

Oh well... people are sometimes overrated. My cats and the TV are looking better and better. Think I'll just watch a little of "Everybody Loves Raymond."

Waking up from an upsetting dream to the sound of thunderous rain, as well as the persistent nudge of hungry cats, is not the best way to start a Saturday.

Thank goodness for the restorative powers of coffee! :)

It's been a mixed bag of a week. Among the high-points were meeting Jennifer Aniston at a press junket and reconnecting with Kylie Minogue for an off-site interview. Jen was gorgeous, charming, and she sparkled like an actual star. Kylie stunned me by recalling specific details of our past encounters, which were roughly 10 years ago. I swooned like a geeky fan-boy when she touched my chin and said, "oooh, the grey is very dashing!" :)

Both interviews will be airing on my morning show in the coming weeks.

Among the low points? An otherwise wobbly work-week that tested my patience and left me questioning some of the folks around me. It's not the end of the world. It's not even particularly dramatic. It's just a reminder that, at the end of the day, you have to own everything around you... especially when your name is in the title. Everybody may want a piece, but you can (and absolutely should) control what they get.

It's all good. Like I said, no drama. Just a wake-up call.

Speaking of a wake-up call, I finally caved in and kept an appointment with my doctor for a blood draw. If the truth be told, I've been rescheduling it for quite a while. My diligence in managing my diabetes has not been great in recent times. A note from my doc that said, "look, just come in and we'll fix whatever needs repair... just come in."

So, I sucked it up and went in. I'll find out the blood results next week, but the stuff you can cover in-office went better than anticipated. What I got out of the experience is that I need to make a new committment to myself. I have fun (kinda) with being one the "fat boys" on radio, but maybe it's time (once again) to shed that idea. I keep telling myself that I need a fresh approach to health, i.e. a new way to get fit. But that's bullshit. I'm smart enough to know that I just need to stop eating like a self-destructive hog and move my body. So simple, but so difficult for me. I'm going to try. I swear that I'm going to try.

Yesterday, I had a reminder that weight is never just about enjoying food. It was a true "a-ha moment."

I went with a colleague/friend to Magnolia Bakery en route to meet Kylie. He was craving a cupcake. I had already decided to refrain from having one, but I went into the shop with him. For about ten seconds, I relished the smell of fresh baked goods. Then I looked around and noticed the line of patrons. They had wide-eyed faces of glee as they stared at the counter of goodies. They looked kids staring at a pile of presents under a twinkling Christmas tree. My knee-jerk thought? "Calm down, you fucking pigs... like you need to eat cupcakes."

OUCH! Where did THAT come from???

I calmly told my colleague/friend that I was going to wait outside. But I was shaking on the inside. A couple of the proverbial dots were connected for me. Those thoughts I had were frequently spoken to me by folks in my family. They were ingrained in me. I wasn't a fat kid, but I was treated like I was. And I thought I was. But I wasn't. I was just an uber-shy kid who was an easy target for my more rowdy siblings and others in my family. It took YEARS for me to realize that. Unfortunately, that realization came years after I made myself as fat as I was called.

As a result of that relentless jabbing, I trained myself to never, ever look at things like food with gleeful anticipation. At least not in front of people of any sort. I could do it in jest (or as a means of urging others to eat and enjoy), but never for real or for myself. And, of course, I always punctuate my consumption of food with a joke about my weight before anyone else can lob one in my direction. I still function this way. I would rather starve until I can gorge in private than show that the gleeful anticipation that I saw displayed in that bakery yesterday.

Deep. Sad. But good that I have better understanding of myself. Clarity is scary. But now I can work on it. That's a good, good thing.

How you ever given serious thought to blowing up your life as it stands and starting completely over? If so, would anything from your past survive?

In the middle of work, running errands, and tending to other people's needs, I managed to squeeze in a LONG overdue visit to the barber. I got sheared down to a buzz-cut. Ahhh... :)

Shane hates buzz-cuts. So, for him, I grow my hair out every few months to make him happy. I hate the way it looks, but I have to confess that it IS nice when he plays with my hair when we're in bed.

But he's in Wales right now, and I could not take brushing my hair every 10 minutes. It's funny to me now that I used to wear my hair in a manic thrush of Paul Stanley-esque curls back in the '80s. I used to spend HOURS fussy with my hair everyday.

But not anymore.

As the barber shucked off what turned out to be a formidable pile of locks off my head, I felt like I could see the actual me returning.

I feel as good as new!

I am so tired.

My head feels squishy like silly-putty. My back aches. And I am literally fantasizing about going to bed the way that some fantasize about sex.

Who knew that talking and spinning records on the radio would be so exhausting, right? Well, my day consists of a bit more than that. I'm not digging ditches, it's true. But the hours and hours of work that goes into those daily four hours has me feeling seriously worn out today. Plus, I've had to deal with more than a couple idiots over the past two days. It's amazing to me how many incompetants are collecting paychecks while so many smart people are unemployed.

I'll stop complaining there, because I'm concentrating right now on winding down and finding some inner peace. I'm enjoying a little spring sunshine beaming through the window, while "Oprah" plays on the television and the cats snooze in the other room.

Shane is in Wales right now. As much as I miss him, I've grown to cherish the time that I have all to myself. Yes, it can get brutally lonely here when I'm on my own. But it is also downright delicious to have enormous chunks of time during which I don't have to speak outloud, or consult with anyone about what to eat for dinner, or hear someone gripe "pick your socks off the floor." :)

It's funny. In a weird way, I think I needed to be in this long-distance relationship in order to fully grow up. Before Shane, I lived at home with my family. I left their house and all of their needs and demands to live with my now-ex Mike. In fairly short order, I became his partner-mama-housekeeper-chef-papa. That lasted nine years, with an additional five as post-split roomies. It wasn't until I moved out to be with Shane that I learned how to take care of myself and only myself during those months that we're apart.

I hated it those periods of seperation, at first, and not simply because I missed Shane. I mostly didn't know how to function as a solo person. It was so weird. I couldn't sleep. And I would actually call Shane in Wales to ask if he minded if I did this or that. It took a while, but I have really grown to appreciate being in charge of me and nothing else... even if I'm not always good at it. I like it. It's sort of the way I imagined it would be when I was a teenager, desperate to get out of my parents' house.

So, yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to try to hit the sack early, even though it's still quite bright and sunny outside. I'm hoping that a little extra snooze-time will give me the patiencde to not cut a bitch tomorrow. Hehehe... And if it doesn't, oh well...

Man, I love being back on LJ! xox

Yesterday, I was chatting with a new friend/business associate. He's a terrific, fascinating guy, with a genuine interest in me and my life. At the end of our conversation, he asked if there was a place online where he could learn more about me. I paused for a second, and then I said, "actually, I used to keep a journal online." I gave him the address for this space and I encouraged him to click through as many entries as he could endure.

"For a while," I told him, "I kept a very emo, revealing journal that I enjoyed making available for interested folks to read."

I came back to this space today to read a little, in advance of my new friend doing the same. I remember spending hours pouring my heart and soul and probably too much information into this space. It was remarkable. It fed my need to write about more than the bands I spent hours covering for Billboard. It gave voice to my actual self. It fueled my exhibitionistic tendencies, as well as the part of me who was (and still is) desperate for attention. And, best of all, it immersed me in a national subculture of people who provided support and friendship.

I stopped actively journaling here after a trusted exec at Sirius showed me how my writings had begun to be used against me on listener message boards and possibly within my company. I was mortified that people might mock the painful experiences of my life, and even use my own words to torpedo my future. That very same day, I closed myself up, choosing only to write on occasion... and then in only the most innocuous ways. It felt weird and dramatically unlike me, the same guy who once juggled my writing career with insane (and insanely FUN) forays into bear pageants, nude modelling, etc. But I did it. It was the right thing to do at the time.

Several years later, I think I've reached the point where I'm ready to write again. I've returned to the don't-give-a-shit mindset that triggered this journal in the first place. I'm steeled and prepared for the mocking and manipulation that may arise. And I'm also aware that no one may actually care about any of this. In the end, I look at my friend/reader list and I see so many familiar names. I miss LJ culture. I miss my LJ friends. You've always given me companionship on lonely days and a place to celebrate on good ones. Ironically, it's the same kind of companionship that I've tried to offer on the radio for nearly six years.

So, I dunno. Thinking about a new friend in my life reading through my LJ archives has made me want to add new words to them. For some reason, this feels like a potentially safe zone again.

I'm looking forward to reading and catching up on what's happening with you, too.

And... thanks, Adam, for inspiring me to dig deep again.

It's 8:56pm as I begin to type this. I'm at work. I go on the air in just about an hour to ring in 2008. I'm excited, nervous, and very sleepy. I'm normally fast asleep at this hour.

I found myself with a rare bit of free time, so I started leafing through LJ... something that I don't get to do very often these days. There were so many familiar faces; faces I've missed a lot. I've enjoyed reading about everyone's year, and I thought I'd drop my own thoughts into the mix.

Like most of the world right now, I've spent a lot of the last couple of days taking stock of the last 12 months of my life. The more I ponder, the more I keep hearing that old Alanis Morissette song, "Ironic," play in my head.

Why? Well, 2007 is the year...

...that I earned more money than I ever have in the past, and yet I've been flat-broke more times this year than I've been since I was an unemployed student. Thank goodness for my ability to budget well and occasionally generate extra dough on the fly.

...that I was civilly united with my true-love Shane on Feb. 22nd, and then we wound up seeing each other less this year than we have in all of the time that we have been a couple. Thank goodness, we have a relationship that transcends geography.

...that I've talked with more and more people every morning during the four hours of my radio show, and then had very little interaction with people beyond work during the rest of each day. Thank goodness for the love I have for my colleagues, as well as for the small group of long-distance web friends who keep me from losing my mind.

...that I've felt more creatively invigorated as a writer than I have since before I left Billboard almost five years ago, and I've barely had time to even write in my blog, much less in any other way. Thank goodness for a few seeds that have been sown in the last few weeks, as well as for the kick-in-the-butt that I've recently gotten from a couple of interested, caring people.

There's more, but that's all of the recounting I care to do. Right now, I'm opting to concentrate on the new year that will soon unfold. I feel a rush of energy and genuine excitement about the opportunity to start a new chapter of my life on a clean piece of paper. I even delighted in the silly task of posting new wall calendars in my apartment today.

Life is a wonderful, funny, and sometimes headache-inducing thing, depending on whom you're discussing it with... and when. Some folks will tell you that it's what you make of it, and I believe that they're right. Others will tell you that the universe has a bigger plan that you have to remain open-minded and open-hearted enough to experience, and I believe that they're right, too. It's when I try to control some things and let the universe take care of others that I find myself reaching for the aspirin. What do you need to navigate? What do you need to leave to fate? And when does it all start to make sense?

Shane has been soothing my stressed-out ravings lately by telling me that he believes that 2008 will be our year... that we've built the foundation to lay good things upon... that we've paid our dues and that we will finally reap the rewards for all of our hard work and (occasional) patience... and that we will smile (and even giggle) a whole lot more in the new year.

I want to believe that he's right. Most of the time, I actually do believe that he's right. And I'm willing to work until I drop to make sure of it.

Hopefully, we'll all enjoy the kind of year that Shane is predicting. We all deserve it, don't we?

Watching him go through security-check is always painful... even after three-and-a-half years. My chest tightens. My stomach knots. My eyes well up.

After he clears the metal detector and has put his shoes back on, we stand and wave wildly for a minute or so. Turning away and heading to the taxi stand is brutal. It means stepping out of my happy life with Shane and back into my alternate universe as a solitary, Oscar Madison-like slob. It means working too much, clinging to our cats for companionship, and spending hours on long-distance phone lines.

Ahhh, the life of a man in a bi-national relationship.

The good news is that Shane and I are independent and trusting enough to survive the geography. Also good? The knowledge that no gap of miles can break us. The cosmos have thrown us countless curve balls over the years, and nothing has split us. Nothing will.

As hard as it was to get in the taxi and head home from the airport alone tonight, there was something different swirling around Shane and me as we hugged and kissed goodbye. Actually, it was a word... husband. I said, "talk to you in the morning, husband." He said, "I love you, husband."

For a second, our smiles weren't brave faces. They were warm and genuine. In that fleeting moment in time, our eyes locked. We felt more secure. More connected. A plane ride for one of us won't change that.

I've always known why people in our community (Shane and I, included) have fought for marriage equality. But the week since we had our civil union, I get it even more. Ideally, spoken vows and a license don't change the core of a relationship. But to feel like the world recognizes our commitment, as well as the fact that we have legal ties to each other, seems to deepen everything. In short, it has been a brilliant, amazing week since we tied the proverbial knot.

The past week has also snuffed a lot of people from my past out of the woodwork. Lots of them. It's amazing how many people read the New York Daily News (which featured a photo of us after our ceremony last week). I haven't responded to any of them yet. I will... I think. But I haven't yet. I wanted to concentrate on spending my first "married" week with Shane alone.

Now that I'm easing back into the reality of daily life, I'm contemplating my past, my present, and my future. Some things have fallen by my life's wayside. Why did they? Should I bring some of them back into my present? No answer yet. I will say this... no matter how much I complain, I love my present. I have a wonderful husband, a job I truly love, cats that I adore, and friends who keep me smiling. We're all a product of our past, of course. But is it necessary to carry every piece of luggage along into the future? There's much to ponder in the days and weeks to come.

In the meantime, I'm looking past my laptop screen and out the window. The sky is dark, yet warmed by the glorious and soothing moon that Shane and I admired earlier tonight. I'm grateful that Shane's plane will have a clear sky to sail into. I already miss him desperately. Yes, that's dramatic language, but it's accurate. The apartment feels instantly empty without him. But it's temporary. As long as I remember that, as well as the fact that my husband and I have a future filled with adventure and joy, I'll be more than fine.

New Chapter, fresh page... can't wait to see what happens next.

It's been a few days since we did it... and life feels as fine as it ever has, but perhaps just a little calmer. I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, as I always do on a Sunday morning, typing away at my laptop and sipping coffee. Shane is wrapped in blankets and snoozing... make that snoring. The poor thing has a terrible cold. Meanwhile, the cats are romping around the living room. They're having what Shane calls a "mad half-hour."

All of this adds up to a typical morning of pure domestic bliss for me. I have to admit, though, that it's a little sweeter today. I realize that as I look over my shoulder to see how Shane is doing and spot the gold wedding band on his finger. So many feelings come over me as I stare at it for a few seconds... love, comfort, security, peace, a future with a personally built family that cannot be taken away.

So, yes, Shane and I were finally legally hitched last week. On February 22nd, we were civilly united at a Garden State Equality rally in Maplewood, New Jersey. The mayor, who literally helped us from being lost in a town that resembled the set of a horror movie, officiated it.

It was a lovely event and experience...and harrowing... and funny... and so many other things that will make for great storytelling in years to come. There were so many moments over the last two weeks when I wondered if I'd made a terrible mistake in getting Shane and I involved in such a circus of an evening. But we agreed that we wanted the share our love and commitment with the world. And we wanted to show that all gay men don't look and sound like Will Truman or the cast of "Queer As Folk." We're real folks who live and love like everyone else... and who need to have the same civil rights as everyone else.

The next morning, the New York Daily News helped us make our point: http://www.nydailynews.com/front/story/500144p-421596c.html

So, mission accomplished on many fronts. Shane and I now have legal proof of our commitment, though we're happily anticipating the day when it's full marriage with all of the federal protection that comes with that.

But, most important, we had a wonderful, love-affirming experience. And it's thanks to so many people that it happened, starting with...

...my gorgeous friend and producer Cynthia. You'll never know how much Shane and I love you, as well as how much I value you and your talent and passion and insanity and so many other things. You are absolute and never-ending sunshine in my life.

...my soul-sistah A-Lo. Your laughter and enormous, beautiful heart make my day better. I've said it to you personally, and now I'll say it publicly... I'd be lost in my days without you there. To call you a friend doesn't capture it. You are FAMILY, girl. Forever and always.

...my program director, Dave, who has become more of a pal than a boss. He doesn't read these things, but he knows how much I depend on his guidance and wisdom. The best thing is how we now talk like a couple of old married men. It was so appropriate and perfect that he (and Cynthia) were our official witnesses as Shane and I exchanged vows.

...my baby-doll, Keith. I missed you so much last week. But we're both taking care of life and biz. You will never fully know how much your laughter keeps me going. I love you as if we were born into the same family fold. You are shining gold in my life.

...our new friend, DJ Airick. I still can't believe you drove all the way to see Shane and me united. It means more than you can ever know. You're a such sweetheart.

...the dearest souls Katie, Brad, Steven, Liz, and Chuck. I feel like I have a warm blanket of love around me when you folks are near. Thank you for being there and for experiencing our special time with us.

...and, finally, the people who actually tune into my radio shows everyday. You may not believe it, but you really are like friends who check in each morning. It sounds weird and trite, but it's true. To hear such beautiful emotion pouring over the phones on Friday morning was overwhelming. It feels sorta out-of-body and unreal. Thank you for traveling on this crazy and wonderful journey with us.

The best is yet to come. I promise.

With that... my HUSBAND has awakened. Time to enjoy our day alone together.

Truly wonderful things can happen to you. All you've gotta do is believe.

I remember the night I asked him. It wasn't when or how I planned to do it.

My original intention was to do it a week later, when we were going to be in the same room. In my mind, I scripted a scenario straight out of a dozen of my favorite movies. But the universe... and Shane... had something else in mind.

It was a freezing-cold Saturday night. I was sitting on the floor of the tiny bathroom in the crappy East Village apartment that I shared with my ex, Mike. I could hear him warbling at the top of his lungs to "All My Life" by Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville in the next room as I chatted with Shane on my creaky old mobile phone. It was an oddly appropriate soundtrack to the minutes that were about to unfold.

Shane was horribly ill with a chest infection that night. I recall his hard, hacking cough every few minutes, which made his voice sound weary and weak, even though he was on medication that was rapidly healing his body, I was worried. I always worry when Shane isn't well, even when he has a headache. It's a weird quirk of mine.

I remember trying to cheer him up with tales of how wonderful our visit the next week would be. "I have a big surprise for you," I said.

"Are you going to ask me a question?" he asked coyly.

"Maybe... possibly," I replied, chuckling as I tried to dodge talking about what we both knew was coming.

When he said, "well, maybe you can ask me tonight," I heard a tone that asked me to break our rule of not having serious, decision-making conversations on the phone. In retrospect, we both needed to transcend our earthy circumstances and transport ourselves to a soothing, happy place. We needed to look beyond the icky, cold weather, his infection, and the distance. We needed to exist in the future... if only for a few minutes.

So, I did it. I broke the rule. Minutes later, we giggled like teenagers in a "Gidget" movie. He'd said "yes" to my big question.

That was two years ago.

After seemingly countless twists, turns, and false-starts, we're finally going to do it. Shane and I are going to take the closest step possible to honest-to-goodness marriage in our corner of the country. On February 22nd, we're going to take advantage of New Jersey's new same-sex civil union law.

There are so many plans to make and details to sort out. But all I can concentrate on right now is that the man I love and I will be joining our lives together in a way that is true and meaningful.

Being in a long-distance relationship has been unbelievably hard. Shane and I have overcome some of the worst obstacles that a couple can face over the past few years. And we're still standing tall together. We're far from perfect, but we're unbreakable and stronger than mere words can capture.

I've been fantasizing about our big day since we announced our union this morning on the radio. It will feel like the greatest reward for making it through the rain that our mutual musical favorite Barry Manilow once sang about. It's going to be amazing.

And it's going to be the beginning of a wonderful new chapter in our lives.

We all have fantasies of our ideal Christmas. Mine includes a fresh pine tree covered in ornaments and twinkling lights, nicely wrapped presents, and snuggles with my man in front of a warm and comforting fireplace.

None of that happened this year.

Shane is in Wales, there's no tree in the living room, and the days leading up to this year's holiday have been filled with work, messages about my friend's dying partner, and feelings of exhaustion and burn-out. Not wildly festive, eh?

But as Mick Jagger once sang, you can't always get what you want... but you get what you need. This year, I got the Christmas I needed.

For starters, I've pulled a Howard Hughes all weekend. Christmas Eve was spent in bed with naps seemingly every few hours and periodic phone chats with Shane. Beyond that, I didn't answer the phone, nor did I allow my mind to drift to more than which television show to watch and what food to snack on. It was restful and relaxing... and just what I needed.

I woke up this morning feeling rejuvenated and genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. Of course, I still missed my man terribly, and I would have enjoyed having all of the superficial trimmings of the holiday, but I felt alive and energetic and positive. As we talked on the phone, Shane and I revelled in our great fortune as both individuals and as a couple. We excitedly mapped out a forthcoming year that will include our long-desired wedding, as well as plans to elevate our lives to a higher level of joy and success. It was lovely. We giggled and gabbed and enjoyed the fact that geography can't keep us apart in the ways that really matter.

The rest of my day was spent doing household chores, which I've always found theraputic. As I loaded and unloaded laundry, I thought about what I want and need to do next. Solid new ideas for work and life, overall, began to formulate as I dusted and vaccumed. By lunchtime, I stretched out on the couch and felt a greater control over my mind and life. I thought about so many things, including the lessons that I've had to digest, like...

...not all "magical reunions" have lingering results. I recently reconnected with a few friends from my past. I had faith and excitement that we would resume the rhythm of our past. It didn't happen. We're so different now. It's not horrible. We're all still great friends who love each other dearly. But those "Friends"-like sitcom fantasies are gone, just like the friend who sadly passed away two days ago. It was an unfortunate, but very real coda to a chapter of my life that now seems officially over.

...success sometimes means a lot more time alone. When you have something that many people either want or resent, your sanity can hinge on knowing when to step back or retreat. It can also hinge on the ability to not take any of it too seriously, which I've yet to master... but I'm getting there... slowly... verrrry slowly (hehehe). I'm also learning to remove myself from high-school-like contentions that are toxic and unhealthy, and essentially let everyone else chew each other up. My soul and sanity are not up for grabs. So, if I have to isolate at times in order to maintain both, then right-on. I'm more than happy to do so. I have what I need in my partner and a couple of very close friends.

It's nearly dinner time as I type now, and I can smell my steak broiling in the oven. My overall sense of contentment continues to linger. I'm looking out the window over my laptop screen as it gets dark outside. The stillness on the roads is rare and soothing. Man, I could sure use another day or two off, but you make the most of what you're given. I'll go to sleep tonight happier than I've been in a long time. This is not how I predicted I'd be feeling. Just days ago, I envisioned myself moping and wallowing in loneliness. I'm so glad to be wrong... and so glad to be exactly where I am right now.

Like I said, sometimes, you don't get what you want... you get what you need. And, sometimes, that can be just right.

Sometimes you lose sight of the threads that connect you to the friends who are a part of your history. Those threads occasionally feel thin and easily severed. They can even seem invisible... or no longer existent.

And then the universe sends you a reminder of how strong the ties to true friends and family can be.

By seemingly pure accident, I got word this afternoon that the partner of an old friend is in the hospital. His illness was sudden and it will very likely terminal. At first, I was afraid to call my old friend. It has been nearly a year since we've talked or have seen each other. The everyday trials of life and work and quirky time schedules have a uncanny way of extracting people from the mainstream of your existence. It's weird... you don't feel like the frendship is over, but you don't feel the friendship is on, either.

When I called my friend, he didn't initially recognize my voice. That startled me. I took a breath, said my name, and a split-second of recognition from him triggered a flood of incoherent tears. Somewhere in between disjointed words about his partner, he was telling me that he loved and missed me. The same words came from me. Within seconds, we were back where we were before time and circumstance seperated us. We were together because of tragedy, but we were together, holding each other up like we had for roughly 15 years. I was in tears as he said, "I'd sure love some company this weekend," when I asked if he needed anything.

Seconds after that conversation ended, I was dialing another seemingly lost friend; another person who fell from day-to-day contact and into a groove that was (and is) vastly different from my own. It's funny. I didn't pause with apprehension this time before dialing. My nerves about breaking the ice brought on by time was replaced by the knee-jerk need to rally the old troops for our mutual friend. It took less than five minutes for us to plan how we will be tending to our "sister" and a couple minutes more before we were saying how much we mean to one another.

On Friday, friends who rarely get to see each other will reunite. I'm also grateful beyond words that the love and friendship is still there. We'll take care of our friend... and remember that those seemingly thin threads are actually mighty strong ties that bind.

It's been a weird and draining 24 hours.

It hasn't even been a full day since I kissed Shane goodbye moments before he boarded a plane to return to Wales. We had an awesome couple of weeks together. It was quiet, intimate, and absolutely perfect. When I came home, our apartment was initially lonesome and a little cold. But it was ultimately all-good. When I got past the first wave of accepting his physical absence, I could feel Shane at every turn, from his decorating touches and the smell of his favorite cologne to the cigarette butts that I won't clean from the ashtray.

I think what I miss most about Shane is having someone with whom I can be 100% myself. He is the only person I feel free and safe to be completely unguarded around.

Best of all, he gets me. Completely.

Ironically, within hours of his departure, people seemed to have lined up to tell me all about myself. It's been funny and entertaining, actually. In the last 24 hours, a handful of people have referred to me as...

...a pinheaded bigot

...a genius

...a raving lunatic who is potentially dangerous

...brutally real and funny

...more sensitive than I let on

I had a listener of my radio show pyscho-analyze me in a long and damning email this afternoon, at the end of which she concluded that a change of anti-depressants and intensive therapy was in order. Two hours later, I had a very famous company-colleague call me at home to say that he thinks I'm brilliant and a superstar-in-the-making. Both the email and call made my day. I'm smiling widely as I recall both.

I've spent countless hours praying for understanding and to be understood. Sometimes, I get a little of both. Other times, not so much. I've come to accept that we all consume and digest things with filters of experience, fear, and expectation. Nothing is ever perfectly clear, just moderately so.

In the end, I'm happy. I've been heard. I can never complain about that. The best gift that anyone can ever offer is to listen. Beyond that, it's all a big bonus.

And above all, I have one person in the world who completely gets me. That makes me one hell of a lucky man.

There are few things I enjoy more in life than the sound of my guy snoring as he snoozes. I know that such a sound can be (and has been) a deal breaker fo many a couple. But for me, it plays like music.

I guess the thing I find most appealing about the sound of Shane sleeping is that it creates the comforting sensation of home to me... sorta the way that the smell of baking bread or a coffee brewing does for others.

These days, I'm latching onto every sense of home that I can find with a firm grip. It's the double hazzard of being a morning-radio guy in a long-distance relationship.

On a daily basis, I spend most of my time on a solo path that tends to isolate me from most of the social world... with the exception of my co-workers. I have friends... I think. But I rarely see them, and I rarely speak with them. If I ever lost my computer, I'd be the modern gay equivalent to Howard Hughes... without the money to keep me company! Most of my conversations when Shane is in Wales is with my cats. It sounds pathetic, but it can be oddly pleasant. They rarely cut me off mid-sentence or tell me that I'm wrong. hehehe...

A lot of the time, I don't mind my life when Shane isn't here. He and I speak constantly, which helps bridge the geographic gap. Also, if I'm being truly honest, talking for four hours straight on the radio tends to make me a bit reclusive when off-air. I tend to literally clam up within seconds of the mics going off.

None of this should be received as complaining. I live a fine life of my own design. I have the perfect man in my life, and I have the job of my dreams. And after a few false-starts, I'm partnered with someone who truly understands me, and I am finally working with people I truly love and respect. Words don't capture the gratitude I feel every morning when I see Keith, Cynthia, and my current mentor, Dave. I could not ask for a better scenario.

But every good situation requires sacrifice. In a perfect world, we'd all be in Wales doing our show... or Shane would be here full-time. Neither is possible right now, though we're inching up on the latter. Patience will prove worthwhile.

But in the meantime, I'm enjoying the little moments that life provides... like the sound of my man snoring as I type this... or even better, the sound of him stretching as he awakens and says "morning, sweetie... want some coffee?"