This is what I say when sites ask me to describe myself

Ok I guess this is the only way that I can write using my current web browser, which of course gives me all sorts of stress that I am becoming out-moded again. Anyways I use this paragraph that took me a week to come up with:



 Hmmmm. I am one of those guys that makes parents scratch their heads for a bit, but after a while they understand. I try to treat every relationship like it is the last one I am going to have. When I say, "I love you," to me, that is a commitment and I will always feel that way (from one degree to another), because I am not shallow. I also believe that you shouldn't "break-up" unless all other avenues have been exhausted (unless they cheat on me or there are signs of abuse, etc.), so I think couple's counseling is great! It would also be nice to meet those who do not freak when they hear " HIV POSITIVE," which I have been for over 21 years, and have not passed it to anyone. I have been in multi-year relationships negative guys, and they have stayed that way. In other words, I know how to have a great time and still be safe. I read somewhere that one of the reasons we have such a hard time making relationships last is that we have no role models to "lead the way" (that, and we are not raised with being gay as an option), so I think we need to show straight people that we take our relationships as seriously as they claim thy do. Yes, I have a few vices and a few bad habits, but don't we all? It's those perfect people who scare me. You know, the ones who tan by opening the refrigerator door at night? In a way, you could say I am "newly single." My ex told me he stopped loving me "that way" and I am "sexually unattractive" (a truly horrible thing to say when you are dumping someone. The only benefit one gets from saying that is now they have stuck the knife a little deeper. If you loved him/her at one time, be somewhat kind when something else strikes your fancy. Remember: Kharma IS a bitch). So I will let you decide in that area. So this is me, as much as I could think of at 3AM f& given a 2000 character limit. I may not join right away (yes, he is poor, no snobs please), but I am nervous too. These sites never work for me. I am getting tired of filling these things!

So many months, so many changes, a few new neuroses to fill it out.

Wo, it has been a long long time. I am now supposed to be all better, but a few things still out of whack....I need to start moving, I need to be productive.i need to be able to look in a mirror and not see an ugly diseased old troll.

This is how we learn to cope

Well, I am back in the hospital yet again (this time I have been here since the the Thursday before Christmas) for the same the same thing as all the the other times, with a dash of the trots to make things really pathetic. There is talk of surgically removing the abscess in my lungs. When it rains, it coughs up blood.

I am in the ER now. More later.

Miracles on Karl Street. . .

I have now moved. Hence, all the changes. Many things and people have helped worked in my favor while I was hospitalized twice and had to live with my parents for a month and a half! As soon as I have got myself more organized, I shall ad names to go with my gratitude and thanks.

This is how I can cope.

 I am sorry that I am not online enough, but I need to tell you that I am just now getting out of a ten year relationship. Chris always promised me that he would talk to me before he decided to end things, and I promised to never, ever cheat (basically have sex without him around, and then not tell him). We had our ups and downs. Most of the downs were mine. I have been HIV+ for almost twenty years now. When I first tested, I was in a double blind study about combination therapies, and the use of Viracept and Viramune. Three years later, when the study was over and they told us what we were taking, they call it "un-blinding, how droll, they told me I had been taking nothing but large amounts of AZT and placebos.

Since then AZT has pretty much obliterated my system. I have all sorts of side-effects, like chronic pain, being tired all the time, and other things that do not paint me in a good light. I take meds to deal with the side effects; so basically to deal with the side effects of four pills and some that I have taken before, I now take a total of 19 different medications. That can fill you up, and tire you out.

Anyways, my ex invites a guy to stay at our house while he finds a place to live. He just recently got out of a relationship, which is why he needs a place to live. He turns out to be incredibly handy (to keep all the players straight so to say, let's call him Billy) 

Well my partner suddenly (at least to me it was) decides to cheat on me with Billy. My partner, let's call him Chris also thinks it would be a great idea to end our relationship and just be friends. He does not think that he and Billy would become an item, but if they did, I was expected to "get over it." I was also commanded not to have anyone over unless he knew and approved the person, and by all means, keep my mouth shut, or he would not even take care of my aging dog (who I do not think has another move left within her. She is a Boston named Lucy, and will be 12yrs old very soon) after I got tossed into the street.


So for the past I guess three weeks (as I was corrected. Three is a breed of gay men who do not think you should have any deep and real emotions at all. Three weeks is way to long to be upset about anything. I wonder how long he felt he could mourn when his mother died. I wonder how long he will mourn his sister who sadly has MS. I do not think he will shed a tear for me) I have alternated between anger, confusion and down right sadness full of tears and stuttering breath and that secret wish we cannot tell anyone. That wish of death to come right now because we do not know how much more we can take.

I should tell you more about our "houseguest." he has experience in yard work, and went right to bat taking care of our little bit of dirt, made it all green and matching with the rest of the neighborhood. He also had experience as a Nurse, which came in handy for Sheila and her partner who isn't really sick per se. She has a small bit of Post traumatic shock (another one of those long stories where you really need to get the facts down before you speak) and a pelvis that has been broken in three places due to her weight (last time anyone said a thing to me, she was at 317 pounds on her five-foot-five frame.

So as you might expect, Chris told me that he and Billy are going out. I did not take it well. I wanted to scream at Chris,"You fucking idiot, do you know why his last relationship ended? Do you really? Billy heated on Nathan! Do you think he is going to be different to you? How dumb can you be? If you needed sex so bad, you could have asked me or said "yes" to me anytime this past year?!"

We have been fighting all day. I have been accused of using threats.  I just do not want us to get in trouble with the people at HUPWA. If we moved the lovebirds up here (Chris and Sheila bought a house that was converted into a duplex; one apartment on the top floor, and one on the main, with an unfinished basement. Currently, the fuck buddies are in the basement, Sheila and company have the main floor, and I am alone on the top) we would have to rearrange the whole house once a year to not get caught. Or we could be honest, and then I would lose a lot of benefits. I do not want anyone to get in trouble because I need a place to live.  

I also worry how I would be able to handle the two of them living next to me. It would feel to me like they were rubbing it in my face. I would be able to see other men, if they passed Chris' inspection. I would be really tempted to go out with someone they had dated,but that would make me no better than them..

I asked nearly everyone I knew today, "what do I do?" and most of them Said he was being especially mean about the whole situation. I think he is upset about the break-up and does not want anyone else to know. I am
lost. I have been in many cities, and survived. Can I survive in this one. Can Lucy?

The early days of August, 2011

Been  a relatively quiet few days here in Rancho de Loaners. I even got a chance to write a poem. Now, I know I am very rusty, and today I am thankful no one reads this blog. so here we go, true believers:

UNTITLED


After one too many funerals
or whispered clippings
found in the back pages
of the afternoon paper

it's like the blood has started
to dry on my hands
as the memories,
and the guilt

of being on the good side
of the casket again
becomes too much
this overcast Nebraska afternoon.

Brian Bengtson.



I hope someone liked it and got the meaning. Sometimes it is so hard to write because I never know if I am holding onto a good image or keeping a great metaphor. Reminds me of those first few times we all smoked pot and the buzz from the THC (which, if you listen to all the news and such, is about 6o-65% stronger than the weed of the sixties. Isn't this modern age wonderful?) actually made the room (or park, or classroom, or car parked down by some lonely road no one ever uses) spin. the lower half of your body would turn to Malt-O-Meal, and everything you did would create gales of giggles and laughter. And then, as always you had to go home and navigate through the maze of Mom & Dad just so you could crawl into the bed, close your eyes real tight, and let the room spin you to sleep.

Anyways, here is a poem I wrote after a really long dry spell, and I hope someone liked it


Peace,

Brian

The Night After The Damn Verdict!!!

I almost dropped a full-on load this afternoon when I got hit by that "NOT GUILTY" verdict that came down like a pipe on my head in the form of a newsbreak on my bedroom television. Just what the frigging HELL were those shipped-in Tampa residents watching for a month and a half anyways, Monty Python's Flying Circus episodes?!

What really bothers me is the new messages this ruling now sends like, "it's okay to kill as long as you have a murky family history," and "lying to the Authorities is not that big of a deal," and especially, "from now on, it is perfectly fine to throw away your two year old child so you can go to Target all by yourself and buy all the push-up bras and beer to help you party your damn ASS off so bad that even the most jaded gay man would call you a 'hot mess.' After all you are in a period of mourning."

The other day, I was AGAIN joining some group that asks too many personal questions when it is not a dating or chat or resume website. And for some reason (brain synapses actually working like they used to' and by saying "used to," I am talking about those magical days of the eighties, when it was okay to be a tad androgynous, as long as the outfit is cool, and you could dance), I actually tried to put some thought into it. So this is what I said, and now thanks to the tech-magic of the day, I can "cut and paste" this till those proverbial cows come home. Again, here it is:

"Anyways, I have always described myself as, "someone whom your parents, your friends, and general passerby warn you about," but that is starting to sound a bit old, tired, and, done (without sounding too gay, I think). I will admit that during the first 30 years of my life I have been an actor, director, stage hand, artistic director, producer, and even had my own little acting troupe in New Orleans (called the "crawlspace theatre"). After all that, I moved back here to try my hand at poetry, with I guess I am having a small (emphasis on the "small") bit of success. Anyways, the one thing most poets should realize is that most do not make it until they are dead (maybe that will change in a few years, but I do not think so. People who seriously read and love poetry like the feel of a book in their hands), so do not hold your breath."

I am having strange urges lately. The same urge that makes me want to pack up whatever I cannot sell (either because I couldn't part with it, or no one wanted it), and head down South to get some questions that have been bugging me for a long, long time.

Today, I have learned, much to my horror, that I an yet another victim of the iPad/Flash adobevwar. Now I can blog and use all the bells and whistles only if I use the standing Maccs, like my desktop or laptop, but not on my spanking new iPad so a big blaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh to all you Computer big-wigs and corporate geeks!!

Aren't I the dedicated one?

Wow and Begorah True Believers!!

It has been over 6 months since my last post. Well, I am alive, though I had the usual poking and prodding.

I will try so hard to be better, and I really want to thank everyone at BLOGGER for not dumping me.


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Location:Frances St,Omaha,United States

Today, l think there is something missing


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I wonder of anyone has bought my new book (LEAVENWORTH STREET) yet I have not been " doing good" lately, but I found a program that will help me change the damn website (brianbengtson.com) and I really need to do that.


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Late night Saturday, watching anime.

Currently, I am trying another in the never ending cycle of antidepressants. Do not ask me the name of this little sliver of a pill, but I do know that at one time it was used for thyroid problems.

I really hope this one works. Maybe I will be able to finally get back into my life of writer. At least I will be able to show some work that is somewhat new. Right now I can wave my new book in people's faces.

Anyway, FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST is on.

Brian


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Finally!!!!

Well fear fans, as I have promised, my new book of Poetryhas been released through the good people at The Backwaters Press. It is entitled LEAVENWORTH STREET, and features poetry that has never been published!! Look for it on Amazon &/or Barnes and Noble. I hope you all will enjoy!!


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Location:My living room

Guess what?

My newest book of poetry is now available through the usual sources. It is entitled LEAVENWORTH STREET and is published by The Bacwaters Press.
As soon as I can get someone to help me upgrade my webpage, things will be a bit simpler.

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Location:S 34th St,Omaha,United States

Monday morning/afternoon

I think I am failing at this Twitter thing, just like the way I keep up with this blog. Are you expected to read ALL of the "tweets," downloaded to me AND come up with as many of my own as I can?

I can barely keep with reading of comic books and discovering new channels on digital cable!!

I always thought that I was this cosmo-future-techno type guy, but now I wonder.


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Maybe this will work. . .

If this program works as well as the blurb says it does, maybe all these struggles and whiny excuses will finally end.


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Memories of 9/11 and Mikel

I tried to tell this story over in Twitter-land, but 140 characters just would not do it.

Since the "anniversary" of 9/11, I have been flashing back to this one central chunk of memory:

The day after the towers fell, I went to visit my best friend, Mikel, who was in hospice care after fighting the "good fight" with HIV and AIDS. There were so many times that we all thought we were going to lose him over the years that we had so much trouble (I know I did) accepting the fact that this time he was really going to die.

Anyways, when I came into his room, he had the small television (that I guess came with each room) turned onto the news (just like everyone did those first few days), and the light from that small box mixed with the afternoon light that escaped through the half-pulled drapes to give his skin an ashy glow.

He had lost so much weight by then. His six foot-five inch fame just couldn't fill out the hundred some pounds making him look like the proverbial skeleton-man

As I walked in, he turned his head to greet me.

"Have you been watching this, Brian?" he asked.

"Sure," I answered. I even told him that I had been watching the BBC news (on the BBC America channel) to see what the rest of the world was saying about this. He nodded, an then looked at me hard,

"Crazy times, " he mumbled, and then he gave me a look of pity, as if he was glad to be passing away now before anything else happened, and at the same time, I could feel his sorrow that I would still be here to experience it all.

That look he shot me haunts me sometimes. I remember his eyes, and the few short weeks he stayed with us, until passing that Halloween morning.

So every 9/11 I think about him, and that afternoon in his hospice room. And I wonder if he is still glad that he left before things "got worse."

An old Poem, but I still like it.

This is probably somewhere in here, but I got a request:

Also, my NEW book, LEAVENWORTH STEET, will be out in the next two months!!!!!! Will have more info as it comes. . . .

Back to the poem!

A Letter to Neil

Dear Mr. Gaiman: Thank you for your gift

of the Sandman. Your stories have changed me;

now I see us all as anthologies, collections

of tales threaded together. I am sure I have my

own wing in the Dream Lord's library, the resting

place of all fables, even the ones that live and die

in one short daydream. I have my own collection

of trinkets, mementos, and souvenirs. Sometimes

I tell my mysteries like Cain, spearing them down

as a warning to the captured listener; sometimes

I share my secrets like Abel, breathing them out

to scatter and grow in the reader's fields.

I am a shopping-mall poet looking to make

my own boutique in the world. I have a teacher

who tells me of other woodcutters (because that's

all poetry is; the filing off of prose until only

the poem remains. I will admit that some cut

too deeply while others just knock on the wood.)

and the tales of the few words they left behind.

I want to thank you for your image of Death,

a beautiful elfin-girl who gives you a nudge

in the end and says, "excuse me, but you need

to go over here now. By the way, how has your

trip been?"

I remember the first day I saw her on your pages,

when she met her dream-king brother at a fountain.

I remember the walk they took as she went on her rounds,

and old song Morpheaus thought of as she moved

through the day "..... death is before me today,

like water to quench a thirst.....," or something like that.

I remember her warming-smile. It was one of the things

I thought about three years ago when the AIDS-volunteer

gave me a positive reading. It still is something that comes

to mind in the mornings as I count my pills.

I share your stories with my friends, some have

bodies and fluids that betray them bit by bit

because they are swimming in this plague too.

They learned about the day Morningstar gave up Hell,

locked all the doors and shushed sinners and demons

away. He registered his complaint of still paying for

his fall three billion years ago, and gave the keys

to Dream. We laugh at the little ironies as we take

study drugs. (There's enough of it right here on earth,

thank you very much.)

Your stories open deep wounds, bring new facets

into the light, and poke fun when we get too serious.

No wonder you have such wonderful artists to draw

these tales. I never knew my childhood love-affair of

comic books and muscle-clad heroes with flowing capes

and far-fetched powers would bring me to your corner

of the medium. You have given me faith in my own tale;

I can appreciate each chapter that made me what I am.

Thank you again, Brian.

Guess What?

Keep watching this space, fear fans, cuz soon there will be some new and exciting news floatng your way!!!!!!