homosexual

January 9, 2026

The Soundtrack of My Life – 46 – A Minor Incident

Since spotify got off their bullshit to stop running ads for ICE, I have made a happy return to the streaming platform, even though it still uses AI for it’s suggestions and “wrap-ups.” And I thought “why not do another ‘soundtrack post’ with one of the most depressing fucking songs?” So, here it is.

Back when Charlie and I started dating, I got this album for myself from Best Buy (our favorite store at the time, since one had opened up in town) with a Christmas gift card. For whatever reason, this soundtrack makes me think of Christmas time. Maybe it’s because that was when I first saw it or because, of the two main characters, one of them lived on the wealth of their father’s Christmas song.

Also, I have this weird habit that when I fall into “depressive episodes” I will watch the same film on repeat. This was the film, at that time, that I had in a loop.

The story telling/writing in it is phenomenal and has some of my favorite actors in it: Rachel Weisz and Toni Collette. (Rachel Weisz is one of the 3 women who could make my forsake my homosexual life for a hetero one.) The musical score and the songs elevate all of this to another level for me. I had to have the soundtrack as my own.

As I do, I became hyper-fixated on 3 songs on the album. The one of above being one of them. It’s the song written for the scene when Marcus’s mom tries to end her life. The lyrics in it address the loss of words one experiences when faced with someone who attempted and, luckily, failed in their effort. So, what that had to do with Charlie potentially taking a job in Iraq at the time is beyond me.

The logic of teenagers is obtuse at best. They’re melodramatic and find resonance in things that don’t really pertain to certain scenarios. As like this one.

Charlie was an over the road trucker at the time, but he wasn’t making as much money as he wanted. He was always looking out for the next, better opportunity to further his ultimate goal: to be filthy rich like his dad.

As the made up war in Iraq/Afghanistan was killing innocent civilians and rebels fighting the imperial invaders over their oil, a job opportunity was presented to him by his father. His father worked for Oxy at the time. The salary for driving an oil tanker over there paid enormously, but it also was very high risk. (Obviously.)

He toyed with the idea because he wanted the money but terrified because he didn’t want this job to end his life before it even began. I wish I could remember how long he entertained the idea. From my memory it felt like weeks but I’m sure it was just A WEEK if not DAYS. Regardless, I told him, at the time, that I would wait for him when he came back. He told me that would be dumb, but I really wanted to live that “war wife” fantasy.

So in my obsession of the above song and him potentially going off to work in a war-torn country, I dedicated and played it for him, expecting some big “oh, wow, that meant so much” from him. Which shows how little I knew of my future husband at the time. I’m surprised I didn’t hear his eye-balls rolling from across town.

What I find odd about this song is it actually pertains eerily closer to how our relationship ended than it ever did at the start. Even as I listen to it now it was almost like I was casting some magical spell over our relationship and cursing us to the fates we found.

“There’s nothing I can say to try to make you feel okay. And nothing you could do, to stop me feeling the way I do… And if the chance should happen that I never see you again, just remember that I’ll always love you.”

I feel that in my soul, as trite as it sounds. The song echoes of the helplessness one feels watching someone struggle with something you cannot change. Then there is an undercurrent of understanding, that it is out of your hands but regardless the singer will be there. Through all of it.

As it pertains to us, it almost feels like each of us takes a turn singing one verse to the other. And in those verses that I feel Charlie would sing, they bring me comfort, even though the song breaks my heart. It also highly improbable that he would have ever openly admitted those words to me, even if he meant them.

October 27, 2025

“You and I”

One of my favorite time of years is coming up, NaNoWriMo. If you’ve been reading this trash blog for some time you will know I have done this event a few times in the past. The first time I participated, I wrote my first ever novel length work of fiction. The one I subsequently have edited the last 12 years of my life.

For this years assignment I decided that since it starts on Charlie’s and my wedding anniversary (as it does every year) I wanted to write about our life together. It was something I had come up with back in April when I had a TikTok go viral. It was a brief cut of our “Not There Yet…” video blogs along to the song “I love you, I’m sorry” by Gracie Abrams. (I’ll post it below.) It exploded more than I had ever thought possible. And it showed me that people cared. The comments are where it really thrived because I had people tell me their own sad stories or give their condolences. Of the hundreds of messages 98% of them were the beauty and kindness humanity is capable of offering.

This lit a fire in me.

I decided that I was going to write a book about our life together. I began brainstorming and came up with web outlines that really shaped the narrative of our life together. It gave me the perspective that there is something there TO share. It wouldn’t just be a random collection of events strung together with only the narrative thread that I would one day lose him. There was advice for polyamory, infidelity, growth, marriage, family, and eventual loss. And not to forget it would give my husband’s death even more meaning.

But like most of my good ideas, my enthusiasm fizzled out and I was consumed once again by the shroud of my depression. Which is fine. I’m grieving. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

To keep my idea alive I kicked it down the road and told myself to do it in November, when I have the chance to participate in the month long writing event. Also, around the same time period of when we started dating in 2003.

I had debated with myself if I wanted to keep it private or post each entry onto my webpage. What I have come to is: for the sake of uninhibited emotions I will write it for myself. Of course, with the intention that I will get it published because why would I write something if not for a reader to read it?

This morning, to get myself in the headspace to begin this month long journey, I put on an album Charlie had given me when we first dated, Jason Mraz’s “Waiting for my Rocket to Come.” It makes me think of him every time I listen to it, and of those early days. This little exercise sent me into a downpour of tears.

The first song on the album is “You and I.” In the past it never really stuck out, but today it did for the simple fact that out of all of the songs on the album (within my “genesis” playlist) this had it’s own album art. Every other track has the actual cover, where he’s sitting on a curb talking to a rooster.

As the song played on the lyrics popped. For the first time I really listened to the song, but within the context of doing this project. It felt like Charlie was talking to me, and that’s what brought about the tears.

(I would post the song for you to listen, but I am no longer using Spotify as they support ICE. And I am nothing if not a bleeding heart hippy liberal douche.)

As a result, where I had been unsure if I was really going to follow through, this gifted me the resolve to actually do it and not just say so. It was my husband prodding me from beyond the grave. Well… beyond the wood box that currently rests on my dresser, in which he resides. (I am cackling at my own joke. I hope you did too.)

@opinionatedandcrazy

My husband was diagnosed with ALS during 2020 and passed 4 years later. Even with a pandemic that didn’t stop us from doing road trips. #als #grief #loss

♬ som original – ᴀᴛʟᴀs
April 23, 2024

Loss in Polyamory

It’s funny, everyone always wants to talk about the “cheating” parts of polyamory and never about the fact that you have to travel the ups and downs of life with other contrasting personalities. When Charlie and I first opened up our marriage I was excited to see where it went but also so utterly terrified. What if he found someone that was “better” than me? It was the one thought that ran through my mind over and over. Luckily for me my husband had a type and it was “broken people.” He had a savior complex. He found the ones who were at their lowest and tried to rescue them. It is funny how many don’t want to be saved or out-right refuse it. (By the way, I’m not saying that I was or am better than them.)

In the end, all it really did (for both of us) is really appreciate the other. I know that sounds so counterintuitive to what society teaches you, but it made our bond that much stronger. We saw the best parts of our relationship and welcomed the parts that had become “familiar.” Most relationships would see it as being stale or stagnant but it became the thing that we treasured most.

Through our experiences with polyamory we have learned a lot through trial and error. There is no guidebook, and even if there was one that could prepare you it could never hit every aspect. Each relationship, like any connection from one to another, is different. Nothing in life is ever as precise as a puzzle piece. The only thing you can 100% expect from it is the requirement for communication and honesty. And honesty isn’t just being open to one’s “extra-curricular activities,” it is being truthful with one’s own emotions. The amount of self-awareness required to co-habitate with multiple personalities is insurmountable.

What none of us were prepared for being in our polycule was dealing with loss. Everyone is always hyperfixated on the sexual component which (spoiler alert) really does not come into play as frequently as those would believe. Then again, it might be different for others. I can only attest to my own experiences.

Before my husband passed he was so concerned with what would happen with his boyfriend when he was gone. He would repeat “you have other josh” to me so much to the point that I was growing exhausted with the observation. Sure I have him, but in a relationship people are not employees, you can’t just replace one with another. Charlie also neglected the fact that the one thing he and I held most similar is wanting to be the “white knight.”

How I describe his boyfriend (Tony) and I is that he is my brother. And I mean that. I am weird in the sense that I mean what I say and say only what I mean. It is genuinely difficult for me to give a compliment when I do not feel it is deserved. So, like I said with my friend Nick (lol IYKYK) who I have lain claim as my brother, it is a fact that comes from the bottom of my heart. It is stating that I love them more than I could love a family member and I will be there for them no matter what. No matter how much they may piss me off, irritate me, or hardly speak to me I will love them unconditionally.

So, my husband not taking that into the equation bothers me, but then again maybe he was pushing me to step up to the plate. Which… the man was a master at manipulation.

Navigating loss in this environment is so strange. I, again, try and struggle to keep everything balanced. I want Tony to know he will be okay, that he is wanted, and that we’re both in this together. With Josh I have to make sure he does not feel excluded, that he is apart of this also. I just worry my efforts are “indirect” and more distractions than solutions.

I will do what I must for everyone to feel okay and, much to my chagrin, it is impossible. Someone gets hurt in the process. Always. I just have to make sure we handle it through communication and reassurance.

I am trying… and will continue to do so until my efforts appear to be worthless.

April 8, 2024

April 12th

It’s strange. One would think that at the start of the worst week of my life I would have something to say. Something to impart on how I am feeling… But I have nothing. Genuinely nothing. I feel numb. As if I have hit pause on my entire body. I imagine if I were to pursue some answer it would say that it is some sort of trauma safety response… However I don’t have the time or the energy to do it. And in the end… what would this answer serve?

For some context, this Friday (April 12th) my husband will go to bed without his breathing mask. It is this mask that has kept him around as long as he has, and without it he will most likely pass way in his sleep. We have spoken with his hospice nurses and they will be there to help keep him comfortable as he “transitions” into the next stage of his existence.

I have known that this day was coming since he was diagnosed with ALS. It’s not like that this was sprung upon me out of the blue. I knew. I have known. It’s just weird to know the exact day. Prior to this I would wake up every morning and see if he was still here, or whenever he took a nap. I have been convinced for sometime that he would go while we slept. Primarily because that was what the doctors had told us was most likely to occur, and even before he had been diagnosed I would wake up in a panic throughout the night and see if he was still breathing. It’s weird. It was as if I knew.

All I want to do is open up my heart and pour out all I feel… I am craving some semblance of vulnerability but I have none. Is this shock? Maybe it is denial, until I am there to see and feel the reality.

For so long I have lived with the “not there yet” attitude. It was the title to our weird little video blogs we would do on our trips. It was literally the words I would say to myself in the early days of diagnosis, when my mind would spiral into all of the gory/overwhelming possibilities. To calm myself I would repeat “we’re not there yet” so I could focus on where we were in all of this. Well… we’re here.

The thing that is keeping me together is what Charlie said the other day, when I asked how he was feeling: I’m excited to see what happens next.