Hey.

I've been a little quiet here the last two weeks. I just thought I'd share with you what this month has looked like for me. 

Growing up on the Jersey Shore, coming home from tour for summer time has always been very nostalgic. Returning home this time has been a very surreal experience.

This June was the first time I arrived home from tour and there was no one here waiting for me. My siblings, who I have always been very close with, moved to Virginia three years ago. Both of my grandparents, who I cared for the last few years, are now gone. Although I was holding my grandfather's hand the moment he passed away, I still had to remind myself when I got home from the West Coast that he was not anxiously waiting for my return.

My friend Alex, who was living in my spare room through the winter, and collaborating with me musically, kind of disappeared. He has not corresponded with me at all since March, except for briefly when I ran into him at the Dead show a few nights ago. I have no idea why, but he is a Gemini, so I imagine he'll resurface when he's ready. 

As with every tour, I always arrive home eager to crash in my own bed and hibernate there for a few days. It's like coming down from a long trip, crash landing back on my own planet after space travel. I have to assimilate to a completely different atmosphere. I have to rest my achey joints after flying (the air pressure fluctuation really affects my body).

After embodying many different characters, and immersing those characters into various social environments so different from my own, it takes a good sleep to reset. I have to sleep off the many full days of climbing and twisting, reaching and back-bending, of flexing and tensing, of lying my body against varying organic and inorganic surfaces, of exposing my body to the elements, of wearing another face - many times one that does not match my emotional composition. I also have to adjust back to my own time zone, which can be hard, because I'm usually anxious when I get home, it's three hours ahead, and I often have to detox off of the excessive amounts of caffeine I took on after weeks on tour. 

While I was on tour out west, I worked every single day for about two months. It is a weird experience to "rest" after so much going-going-going. The first couple of days are like being in the twilight zone, similar to being alone during that period between Christmas and New Years Eve. If I refuse to rest, and immediately jump into the long list of bills and other to-do's, I will become anxious to the point of mania. Allowing myself to rest is absolutely necessary, but there's a weird grey area in that time, that if I don't force myself to get out of my house and incorporate with the world, I will isolate myself and become depressed.

And it's always difficult to incorporate with the world, because regardless of how long I was gone, coming home is, for me, like returning from a long work day. I expect everything to be as it was when I left, but even in just 2-3 months, people who have had the same routine every single day are in dramatically different places in their lives when I return.

Moreover, now that there really is nobody here waiting for me, I feel a little out of place. As a nurturer who does not have children, I really don't know what to do with myself without my 'people.' All of my local peers kind of forget that I even live here, so even when I'm home, I am not on the radar. I do not go out where my peers might be, because I don't drink, and prefer not to engage with people in those environments. 

At any rate, I spent a few weeks being quiet, and trying to get back on a normal sleep schedule. Aside from a couple of photo shoots and my usual fine art drawing sessions, I immersed myself in my new freelance job; journalism. I've been writing for my local newspaper, which has been a refreshing change with lots of positive new challenges. I'm learning a lot, and have taken to this trade surprisingly quick. It gets me out and about, and in the scene, without having to engage in superficial relationships with people. The best part is that I'm doing what I enjoy (writing), and I don't have to sell anything.

One of the major burnouts I'm experiencing with modeling is feeling the need to constantly sell myself, my image, my brand with a predominantly male audience, who doesn't always necessarily appreciate or deserve what I have to offer. (I should clarify, that what I love about my Patreon friends is that you all seem to appreciate what I'm sharing with you for the right reasons). 

Aside from reporting, I have been practicing yoga almost religiously. Sometimes twice a day. I also have been attending the Greek Orthodox church on Wednesdays and Sundays. I have not considered myself a practicing Christian in probably 20 years. However, this community really embraced my grandfather and I through a difficult time, and it has felt positive for me to be in that environment. 

Outside of these environments, I pretty much isolated myself at home. That is, until last week. For Christmas, I gifted my friend Aimee with Dead & Company tickets. Aimee and I have been friends for 16 years, and we share a passion for music; Especially the Grateful Dead and other 60's classics. She lives in Vegas now, but we have stayed committed to sharing musical adventures, both local and abroad. For those of you who don't know, Dead & Co is Bob Weir, Jeff Chimenti and Mickey Heart of the Grateful Dead accompanied by Oteil Burbridge and John Mayer. They are extraordinary. Honestly, the best iteration of the Dead I have seen in my lifetime.

After I bought her these tickets, I wound up scheduling my grandfather's memorial celebration for the same weekend, as it was the only weekend my family could all travel to Jersey. If this sounds crazy, that's because it is. I went from being completely alone, to my tiny cottage being full to capacity; Aimee, my brother, my two sisters, my mother, their two dogs and a chameleon.

Because it was also Aimee's birthday, a few long time friends came over, and we surprised her when she arrived Thursday afternoon. We partook in Jersey pizza, of course, and a custom Grateful Dead themed cake, before heading out to the show together. Because my brother and sister were here, they got to join for their first ever Dead show. It was a lovely evening.

I'd also like to mention, since it's pride month, that my (trans) brother, Terry, has been making a very smooth transition, and has been accepted lovingly by family and friends. The Dead show seemed like an appropriate thing to share with him. Coincidentally, I took Terry a few years ago, prior to the transition, but we could not get two tickets, and wound up listening from the lot. Looking back, it almost seems like a prophesy to embrace one's individuality.

I organized and funded my grandfather's memorial all myself, so that was certainly a distraction for me all month. We celebrated at the Greek Orthodox Church with a very small group of family and friends. Many of our friends from church joined us, which was heartwarming. I think my grandfather would feel very honored by the celebration we gave him.

Yesterday, I took my siblings and cousins to the Seaside Heights boardwalk for one more day of summer fun while we are all together. We even swam in the ocean for an hour, despite it being unseasonably and exceptionally cold.

Two of my siblings left for Virginia today, so things are much quieter. Tonight, my sister Cymoril and I will go to "live band karaoke." She has special needs, and she is a karaoke D.J. She has never fit in with most crowds, and like most of our family, music has saved her. Some may think this silly, but karaoke is her entire life, so this should be fun and memorable. 

The next few weeks will be dedicated to establishing a routine and focusing more on Patreon, on journalism, and on my studies.

Thanks for hanging in. I look forward to sharing more with you.