My Return
Published August 29, 2008 by Charles.
I'm back. Hopefully for good this time. We'll see how it goes, I guess.
Love,
C
Love,
C
To My Father
Published July 17, 2006 by Charles.
It's As If
by Charles Rockhill
It's as if I trusted you to take me there and yet you failed and fell flat on your face without even trying.
It's as if I gave you my childhood innocence and you stole it, sold it to the lowest bidder so you could make a quick buck.
It's as if a mild mannered man who was once my hero builds me up everytime only to let me free fly away and disbelieve the words constantly cascading out of an overtired, expired, "done," "I'm finished with your dispising eyes and cries always accusing me of not being good enough," mouth.
It's as if with your overbearing strength and me sitting in the backseat of another stranger's car, clinging to the red bleeding from the dead roots in my scalp after having been lifted by them, shows me some level of "love."
It's as if I'm sick of having to come up with quick-fix tricks to tell everyone why you aren't or never were there because it was your choice to leave me, decieve me, consieve me and bring me into this world of self-hate you call your life of selfish sensitivity.
It's as if another babysitter is holding me closer than you ever did to stop me from slitting the wrists and calling quits on what it was I wanted from you.
It's as if that last tear was the last tear to fall from these while staring in yours, terrified, that look like mine because mine look like yours, no, I never wanted to be a chore, a whore for your attention.
It's as if you'll always be a last resort when I'm short on cash and we clash because you and I both know you're not responsible enough to show support, here or in court for a child that is so from your vine of DNA design. Is it a crime to ask for a father?
by Charles Rockhill
It's as if I trusted you to take me there and yet you failed and fell flat on your face without even trying.
It's as if I gave you my childhood innocence and you stole it, sold it to the lowest bidder so you could make a quick buck.
It's as if a mild mannered man who was once my hero builds me up everytime only to let me free fly away and disbelieve the words constantly cascading out of an overtired, expired, "done," "I'm finished with your dispising eyes and cries always accusing me of not being good enough," mouth.
It's as if with your overbearing strength and me sitting in the backseat of another stranger's car, clinging to the red bleeding from the dead roots in my scalp after having been lifted by them, shows me some level of "love."
It's as if I'm sick of having to come up with quick-fix tricks to tell everyone why you aren't or never were there because it was your choice to leave me, decieve me, consieve me and bring me into this world of self-hate you call your life of selfish sensitivity.
It's as if another babysitter is holding me closer than you ever did to stop me from slitting the wrists and calling quits on what it was I wanted from you.
It's as if that last tear was the last tear to fall from these while staring in yours, terrified, that look like mine because mine look like yours, no, I never wanted to be a chore, a whore for your attention.
It's as if you'll always be a last resort when I'm short on cash and we clash because you and I both know you're not responsible enough to show support, here or in court for a child that is so from your vine of DNA design. Is it a crime to ask for a father?
Maybe I'm Not Such A Bad Person After All...Damn It
Published June 28, 2006 by Charles.
So it's 4 o'clock in the morning and I'm thinking, "Damn....I'm thristy...and I could use a tasy snack." I grab my keys, put on a hoodie, plug in my iPod and head out. So I'm on my way to the bodega (corner store, for those of you not in NYC...mostly run by Mexicans or Indians) that's down by the subway station, and about half a block away from my apartment, there is some drunk man stumbling towards me. "Just avoid him, try to stay out of the way," I think. As he is about to pass me, he stumbles and lands on the ground. "Shit." I reluctantly remove my head phone from my ear.
Me: "Are you ok?"
Him: "Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Are you drunk?"
"Yeah."
"Do you need help?"
"No."
He's still on the ground.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Where do you live?"
"Where do YOU live?!"
"Um...over there." I point in the general direction of, but not directly at, my house.
"Cool."
"Let's get you up off the ground."
I help him to his feet. He's heavy and smells like cheap beer. He's leaning on me..and if you know me, you know I'm tiny and easily breakable. I shift his weight so that I'm not holding him up too much.
"Where do you live?'
He points south. We start walking.
"What's that?"
I forgot to pause my iPod. "Just music."
"Heh. Music"
"Yeah. Which house is yours?"
"(insert cross section of streets he lives on)"
"Ok, let's go." It's only four blocks.
"Where are you from?"
"Um...here."
"Here, where?"
"New York"
"Oh.."
"Which house is yours?"
"It's up there."
We keep walking.
"You're so skinny."
I try not to glow in the compliment. "Thanks." And you're....not so much. He spots the rainbow bracelet on my wrist from Pride.
"You a fag?"
Awkwardly..."Yeeahh."
"Cool. I have fag friends."
"Yay." (Sarcasm, in case you weren't paying attention)
"I don't llike cock though."
"It's an aquired taste." <-- My attempt at being a smart ass.
"A what?"
"Nothing. Where's your house?"
"Right there." He points to a house three buildings away. "FINALLY!"
"Alright, Dude. Here we go."
"Thanks, man. What's your name?"
"Charles."
"John?"
"Charles."
"John."
"...........yes, John."
"Mark"
"Cool...so you..um...ok?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
"My sister's here"
"So she'll take care of you."
"Yeah."
"Cool. Have a good night."
"You should come to my bar."
Damn it, I don't want to make conversation!
"I will." I start to walk away.
"You don't know where it is!"
"Yeah, I saw you come out of it." (No..I didn't)
"Oh....ok"
"Goodnight."
"Later."
This is the last time ever I am being nice to a complete stranger! Ugh! Doesn't this guy have friends or you know a bartender who's supposed to call a cab or something? The next time a drunk person falls at my feet, I'm stepping over the bump in the sidewalk and turning up the volume on my iPod. Fuck this bullshit. Fuck being polite to people!! So, back to why I left my apartment in the first place, I make my way to the bodega, buy my Peach Tea Snapple and Salted Cashews and come back home. And now I don't even want the damned cashews!!!!
Me: "Are you ok?"
Him: "Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Are you drunk?"
"Yeah."
"Do you need help?"
"No."
He's still on the ground.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Where do you live?"
"Where do YOU live?!"
"Um...over there." I point in the general direction of, but not directly at, my house.
"Cool."
"Let's get you up off the ground."
I help him to his feet. He's heavy and smells like cheap beer. He's leaning on me..and if you know me, you know I'm tiny and easily breakable. I shift his weight so that I'm not holding him up too much.
"Where do you live?'
He points south. We start walking.
"What's that?"
I forgot to pause my iPod. "Just music."
"Heh. Music"
"Yeah. Which house is yours?"
"(insert cross section of streets he lives on)"
"Ok, let's go." It's only four blocks.
"Where are you from?"
"Um...here."
"Here, where?"
"New York"
"Oh.."
"Which house is yours?"
"It's up there."
We keep walking.
"You're so skinny."
I try not to glow in the compliment. "Thanks." And you're....not so much. He spots the rainbow bracelet on my wrist from Pride.
"You a fag?"
Awkwardly..."Yeeahh."
"Cool. I have fag friends."
"Yay." (Sarcasm, in case you weren't paying attention)
"I don't llike cock though."
"It's an aquired taste." <-- My attempt at being a smart ass.
"A what?"
"Nothing. Where's your house?"
"Right there." He points to a house three buildings away. "FINALLY!"
"Alright, Dude. Here we go."
"Thanks, man. What's your name?"
"Charles."
"John?"
"Charles."
"John."
"...........yes, John."
"Mark"
"Cool...so you..um...ok?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
"My sister's here"
"So she'll take care of you."
"Yeah."
"Cool. Have a good night."
"You should come to my bar."
Damn it, I don't want to make conversation!
"I will." I start to walk away.
"You don't know where it is!"
"Yeah, I saw you come out of it." (No..I didn't)
"Oh....ok"
"Goodnight."
"Later."
This is the last time ever I am being nice to a complete stranger! Ugh! Doesn't this guy have friends or you know a bartender who's supposed to call a cab or something? The next time a drunk person falls at my feet, I'm stepping over the bump in the sidewalk and turning up the volume on my iPod. Fuck this bullshit. Fuck being polite to people!! So, back to why I left my apartment in the first place, I make my way to the bodega, buy my Peach Tea Snapple and Salted Cashews and come back home. And now I don't even want the damned cashews!!!!
Infatable Pool Animals And Keira Knightley
Published June 26, 2006 by Charles.
I had a dream last night. I was at a high school, and there was a Starbucks in the high school. (Why couldn't this be real?) So I apparently know a bunch of students and teachers and whatever, but I leave work early so I can go visit the house I used to live on in Long Island, ya know just to say hi to the house. But I realized I forgot my cigarettes when I am at a store buying rice and fruit. So I start sprinting back to the school and on the way I see kids at a pool with large inflatable animals meant for pool time fun. So I run by and steal one from a little girl and then for some magical reason, all the sidewalks on the way back to the school and smooth and covered with water. So I run and slide, run and slide, run and slide until I am running and sliding down the hallway of the school, where I pass cops inspecting students lockers. I hear them talking about "the band schedule." "This person is in band, you can find out when they're supposed to be there." "Oh, look it's posted in the locker." And I'm all whatever....so I walk into the gym where I see a very skinny, mustached gym teacher who I am apparantly friends with, which I am shocked by because he looks like a gay porn star from the 70's. And sitting in the bleachers, I see Dakota Fanning (who for some reason I call Hannah in the dream and I just looked her up on IMDB.com and her real first name is Hannah...weird right?), Keira Knightley, and Natalie Portman. They are all sitting there because one of them skipped band practice but they can't figure out who was supposed to show up that day. This warrants the cops right? Makes total sense. So I grab a band schedule from some random person, and I say it was Hannah, knowing very well that it was in fact Keira, I don't know why Hannah came out of my mouth. So as Keira is looking triumphant and Hannah (Dakota) looks like she's about the cry because the cops are arresting her (FOR SKIPPING BAND PRACTICE?!?!?!) I correct my self and say that is was Keira and not Hannah who skipped. Keira face turns bright red with anger and she then jumps on top of Hannah (Dakota) and starts punching her in the face and Hannah can't defend herself because her hands are handcuffed behind her face. So my dream ends with about five cops beating Keira Knightley with billy clubs while she is beating the shit out of Dakota Fanning. (Hannah) And right before I wake up, as I am watching the brawl I look to my left and see the gay 70's porn star gym teacher slowly remove his short red shorts (from the seventies, so they are those REALLY short ones) to reveal a jock strap, from which his pulls a moderate but not surprisingly large cock and just cums all over the entire thing....
I think there's something wrong with me....
I think there's something wrong with me....
HX
Published June 20, 2006 by Charles.
Last night I went with some friends of mine to the 15th Annual HX Awards Party at Lincoln Center. There I saw Peppermint Gummibear perform and later win Best Drag Queen,(Bitch IS FIERCE!) Sandra Bernhard perform with Kiki and Herb, Michael Lucas (famous porn star/director/owner of Lucas Entertainment) took a picture with me, he is my favorite porn star EVER, and he gave me his card with his personal phone number on it and e-mail address. Does anyone out there know what this means, because I am confused and I don't know what to do with it! Am I supposed to call him for some reason. We only talked for a minute. PLEASE HELP! There were many hot gay boys there an also many no so hot ones. There was an old man standing behind me wearing ghastly jewelry from the seventies, green spandex go-go boy shorts, a tight yellow sleeveless shirt, and he was bald with a ponytail half way down his back....Troll much? But a good time was had by most and I was really excited to be involved in something like that. I kinda felt like a celebrity and this time next year, my goal is to actually be ON the stage....doing God knows what. Pictures of the event will be posted soon.
Love,
C
Love,
C
Rufus: Live At Carnegie Hall
Published June 15, 2006 by Charles.
Last night I went to see Rufus Wainwright perform at Carnegie Hall recreating Judy Garland's performance that she did....(some random number) years ago. He was amazing, just coming out on stage and jumping right into the performance to thunderous applause.
The orchestra warming up for the show.
Rufus takes the stage.
Some weird red glare thing going on...
I was only able to take pictures for about two songs before an usher came over and told me that photographs were not allowed, which sucks because there tons of people taking pictures for the ENTIRE concert! But whatever, I got a few semi-good shots. Rufus sang each song incredibly, even when he forgot the words to some of them, which sparked the audience to laugh and cheer when he did. His performance and voice was amazing and he was later joined on stage by first his sister, Martha, and then his mother, Kate (who came back out for another performance later). His mother was wearing a gold lame pant suit and said that wearing it she felt "like Celine Dion." (Which was kinda meant to be a dig at Celine.) Martha's performance was stellar! She also has a very strong, blues-y voice. I found out while I was there that they are filming/recording so look forward to what I'm assuming is going to be a DVD and CD out sometime in the near future. After the show, I was fortunate enough to meet Rufus and get him to sign my show poster...which will be framed and hung asap. All in all the show was amazing!Next stop, Madonna!
Love,
C
Update-y-ness
Published June 12, 2006 by Charles.
Whoo! I have concerts set up like crazy for the next month! Wendsday I am going to see Rufus Wainwright at Carnagie Hall. The 3rd I am seeing Madonna at Madison Square Garden and the 19th I am going to see P!NK at Webster Hall. So excited!
Congrats go out to JM and Ric for their new rings!
Also, I stumbled upon this website "How Not To Steal A Sidekick II." This guy's friend left her Sidekick II in a cab and when she realized she had lost it, tried calling and txting the phone offering a reward to whoever found it. The people who have it, who apparently live in Carona, Queens, NY, refuse to give it back. So this guy started his website in order to shame them into returning the device and getting a well deserved apology. The story is written out better on the site, mine is the abridged version. Please visit if you can and help support his cuase if you can.
Congrats go out to JM and Ric for their new rings!
Also, I stumbled upon this website "How Not To Steal A Sidekick II." This guy's friend left her Sidekick II in a cab and when she realized she had lost it, tried calling and txting the phone offering a reward to whoever found it. The people who have it, who apparently live in Carona, Queens, NY, refuse to give it back. So this guy started his website in order to shame them into returning the device and getting a well deserved apology. The story is written out better on the site, mine is the abridged version. Please visit if you can and help support his cuase if you can.