featured in the season finale of Scandal, a great love of mine, Ms. Nina Simone
for Stephen *6/2015 Stephen is a turkey poot
When I was younger, and cuter, and more optimistic, I would sometimes sing Somebody’s Baby and picture myself as the person/girl Jackson was singing about…I still believe that I’m somebody’s baby, and that I will meet him soon, right?
Well, just look at that girl
With the lights comin’ up in her eyes
She’s got to be somebody’s baby
She must be somebody’s baby
All the guys on the corner stand back
And let her walk on by
She’s got to be somebody’s baby
She must be somebody’s baby
She’s got to be somebody’s baby
She’s so fine
She’s probably somebody’s only light
Gonna shine tonight
Yeah, she’s probably somebody’s baby, all right
I heard her talkin’ with her friend
When she thought nobody else was around
She said she’s got to be somebody’s baby
She must be somebody’s baby
‘Cause when the cars and the signs and the streetlights
Light up the town
She’s got to be somebody’s baby
She must be somebody’s baby
She’s got to be somebody’s baby
She’s so fine
On the 1st and 15th of each month, the Parc Thrift Store in Pinellas Park is 50% the entire store, so 50 cent harcovers and quarter paperbacks, including Chuck Palahniuk, Margaret Atwood and my 2nd favorite author of all time, Augusten Burroughs.
The New 2 U Thrift Store in Seminole has coupons for 50% off your entire purchase, again making the harcovers 50 cents and the paperbacks a quarter, including Sara Gruen’s Water for Elephants and Riding Lessons, and the greatest literary love of my life, David Sedaris.
atlanta, buy John's book on Amazon, culture, death and dying, depression, dogs, DSM diagnosis, essays, french bulldog, gay, gay dating, Kubler Ross, LGBT, Life, liifestyle, love, memoirs, Pensacola, perspective, pets, point of view, schizophrenia, six stages of death, writers
My ex came and got Squeak from me, to spend the weekend with him and Possum. He has also made it painfully clear that we will never be together again, also that he never really loved me, at least “not the way I am remembering it.”
It’s 4:30 in the a.m., and I’m not sleeping. I take Cricket for a long walk, there’s a full moon and the air is electric.
My mother is 61 years old. She has refused her dialysis and it is simply a matter of time. Over the next week, I will take her lunch and sit with her, reading my book or watching TBN. She continues to pray that I will “be healed” from my homosexuality and will find a nice Christian wife. I lie to her and tell her I am going to church in St. Petersburg, and it gives her some small comfort, so that’s okay. If she doesn’t pass away this week, I will be forced to have our final goodbye on next Sunday, as I am financially destitute, plus I’ve used up all of my PTO and my bills and rent await.
I feel like my mother’s mental health robbed her of happiness and that she never really enjoyed a good quality of life. When the moon is full like this, and I am feeling restless and anxious, I worry that my mental health will soon betray me as well, and I am pessimistic most of the time. I fear I will always be alone, ending up in some nursing home with nothing, just like my mother.
Cricket knows something is wrong. She is a good girl, smart and intuitive and empathetic. Cricket gives me a lick, then curls up next to me on the bed and starts snoring. She will be there for me in the morning, tucked in and sleeping against my stomach…she knows she is loved and cherished, anyway.
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I have 648 friends on the Facebook. There are like 10 of my facebook ” friends” that I would like to be my boyfriend. I mainly post stuff like this to try to impress them, either that or I have low self esteem.
shout outs to Ronan M, Richard S, Scott W, Forrest C, Steven C, Stephen W, Jeff R, Brian K, Grover K, Geoffrey B, Stuart N, Mark S, Brian B, Scott G, John M, Jerry L…and Ken Cunningham
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On HBO tonight, starring Julia Roberts and my nerdy boyfriend Jim Parsons, who is a friend of Dorothy’s of course.
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On days like these I have to question if I have a gypsy curse , voodoo or worse hoodoo, did somebody put roots on me?! My story begins last week, when I met this lovely man on the interwebs. He is cute, smart, former military, and is clever in his texting and emails. We made a date to have lunch at Lemongrass on today (Saturday) and then we were going to the Warhol Exhibit at the Dali. I have been preparing all week for this day, getting an expensive haircut, buying a new Polo shirt to match my eyes, Just for Men-ing my eyebrows, cleaning the apartment, bathing the gremlins, and finally calling in sick to work and going to the beach (so I will be all tan/red and healthy looking when we have our joyous meet). I am so excited, I am ready, the dog days are over, this is my husband!
During the night, I wake up a couple of times rubbing my eye, which is bothering me for some reason. I finally get up for good around 8 a.m. and have a look in the mirror: it’s bad, real bad. My right eyelid is red and swollen, making my eyes observably different sizes. I panic and google and text my friends and figure out I apparently have a stye. Now this is where I start to question being cursed. I have never had a stye in my life, didn’t even know what it was, but I mysteriously have one on the only, only, only day that I am meeting this beautiful man? FML…
I can’t let my future ex-husband see my like this, and when I explain my situation he (quickly) agrees to push our glorious meeting out a few days, when I am better. He was very agreeable to this, especially after I disclosed it was vaguely contagious 😦 I hope he is the patient and loving and kind man that i have imagined him to be, and will wait for my disease to dissipate. I just can’t let him see his future blushing bride with one big eye and one little eye, it ain’t cute.
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When I lived in New Orleans, Bianca hosted Drag Bingo at Oz…that bitch has always been funny, I love her!
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Home alone on this Saturday, with no money and no man, I organized my library and discovered I am RICH!…in books. I do have several date possibilities for tonight, with different men, including Jim Butcher, Chuck Palahniuk, John Burdett and R.A. Salvatore.
animals, authors, boston terrier, Cricket the French Bulldog, cute, cute pics, dogs, ebook, french bulldog, gay, gay dating, Kindle app, LGBT, love, Mateo L'artiste, new orleans, pets, short stories, Squeak the Boston Terrier, St. Petersburg, tampa, the gay road less traveled, writers
Artwork by Mateo L’Artiste , from my book The Gay Road Less Traveled – John Jernigan $3.99 on Kindle…the Kindle app is free for any smart phone by the way
There is a sweet little guy in Oviedo that I like, a dog trainer in Leesburg, a Gator fan in Tampa, a wedding coordinator in Orlando. I just want one of them to pursue me, court me, ask me out, “look at me like maybe I am magic.” I know I have the ability to see the magic in one of them. I found myself typing up a message to the professor in Oviedo this a.m., and stopped myself. He agreed (acquiesced?) to have dinner with me a few weeks ago, but haven’t heard from him since then. If I gave the dogs a bath, drove up and got a room in Orlando for the night ($90), I am pretty sure I could have a date with him (and more). Having done this with another guy in Ft. Myers a few months ago, it makes me look thirsty and it’s expensive and kind of sad. I guess I will continue to wait for my knight in shining armor, if that asshole even exists he needs to get at me ASAP man! My babies want a new daddy as well…
@thejohnjernigan, animals, boston terrier, buy John's book $3.99, cats, Central Avenue St. Petersburg, cute, cute dog pics, dating, dogs, french bulldog, funny, gay, gay dating, humor, LGBT, love, pets, relationships, sex, Steven Chicurel, tampa, Tampa Bay
This greedy bitch gobbled up a half-eaten cigar off the street. The tobacco or nicotine or something immediately caused her to start wobbling and she passed out. I had to shake her awake and make her throw the cigar up. While dealing with her, Cricket ate the thrown up cigar in one bite…she’s fine, not even a burp, must have tasted good to her #squeakthebostonterror
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Killing time in Tampa waiting on some nuggets to get home from school, I stumbled across the Life’s Treasure Thrift Center, with the following sale sign at the door: Entire store 50 % off ! That meant $1 hard covers and 50 cent paperbacks 🙂 I hit the jackpot, including 3 of my favorite books of all time; Life of Pi, Choke, and Oryx and Crake. $11.00
anal sex, atlanta, buy John's book $3.99, dating, funny, gay, gay dating, gay men's health, gay sex, health benefits men, hemorrhoids, humor, LGBT, love, men's health, perspective, point of view, prostate health, queer, relationships, squatting to poop, squatting toilet platform, Tampa Bay, the bowel buddy, yoga
There is a new trend that health nuts and green people and yoga enthusiasts and celebrities are doing that I think holds some merit: they are buying step stools/seats that elevate you to ” squat” when you shit, like we would naturally as cavemen. The theory is that sitting on a toilet isn’t natural, and causes the body to strain to poop (causing stretching/hemorrhoids). I would say definitely something to look into, to keep oneself from straining/causing any undue harm…I have one homosexual friend who would like to be having the gay sex (that way) but he can’t because of this issue 🙂 #themoreyouknow
from Men’s Health magazine:
I have managed to avoid yoga for most of my adult life. But I’ve taken a sudden interest in it recently. And not for the reasons I assume most people do yoga. I’m trying to get better at pooping.
This isn’t information I wanted to share with the rest of the class. During my first experience with yoga, at a YMCA in Chicago, I tried to remain inconspicuous, huffing and puffing my way through poses in the back. But after a few sessions, the other students started noticing me. They introduced themselves and tried to be friendly, offering encouragement and asking what had brought me to try yoga for the first time.
“Toilet posture,” I told them.
I was admittedly being an asshole. I wanted to be left alone, and I’ve found that most people don’t want to hear about the bathroom habits of strangers. But not these people.
“You’re squatting?” they asked. “I’ve been trying that, too. What do you think? Is it working for you?”
They talked about poop research they’d read online, friends and family whose fecal lives had been dramatically improved with a toilet posture realignment, and far too many intimate details about their bathroom experiences. Before long, even the instructor had wandered over to debate the finer points of modern pooping. He suggested the Garland Pose, his favorite yoga exercise to help enhance squat-pooping. “It really tightens your core,” he said.
I did not ask what “core” he was referring to.
The Great Squat-Pooping Experiment
We live in a strange era of mainstream poop awareness. It’s no longer a topic that teens giggle about and adults only bring up with their doctors. People have opinions about their bowel movements, and how those bowel movements could be better. A few weeks ago, Cameron Diaz went on The Dr. Oz Show to talk about poop—hers specifically, and how everybody could be having movie-star poops if they followed her digestive advice. Dr. Oz handed out clay to the audience and asked them to mold it into their “most recent poop.” And they did it! Because that’s the world we live in now: a world where people reconstruct their fecal output in front of millions of strangers without giving it a second thought.
We all want better poop. We want poop that Dr. Oz would hold up triumphantly and call the “pièce de résistance.” Or that Cameron Diaz would smile at flirtatiously and claim it’s “very familiar,” as if somehow its shape and texture reminded her of a former lover she’s never been able to forget.
This Quixotic quest for poop perfection is what convinced me to try the Squatty Potty.
It’s a simple little contraption. The Squatty Potty is essentially a step stool, costing between $24.99 (for white plastic) and $74.99 (for the bamboo version), that slides against the base of a toilet. You place both feet on the platform and your knees are pushed above your hips, creating a natural “squatting” position. It’s how people used to crap before the invention of the modern toilet, back when we were still doing our business in the woods or any open hole with a modicum of privacy. But the Squatty Potty is not just about getting back to our pooping roots. Squatting is apparently more healthy than the antiquated “anorectal angle” style of pooping, which puts “upward pressure on the rectum,” according to the company’s website. This “creates the need to STRAIN in order to eliminate. Compare sitting on the toilet to a kinked garden hose: It just doesn’t work properly. In a squatting posture, the bend straightens out and defecation becomes easier.”
It gets scarier. According to statistics shared by a Squatty Potty publicist, most people are carrying “5 to 20 pounds of fecal matter in their digestive system day to day.” At first glance, this number sounds preposterous. But then again, I’ve heard rumors that John Wayne had 40 pounds of poop impacted in his intestines after his death. And Elvis Presley reportedly had in the ballpark of 60 pounds. These stories are almost certainly both bunk, but the very idea that I could have any amount of feces trapped inside me gives me the heebie jeebies.
There are a lot of people, some of them famous, who swear by the Squatty Potty. It’s been enthusiastically endorsed on The Howard Stern Show, TMZ, and The Doctors. Ben Greenfield, a fitness author and personal trainer, tweeted this peculiar Squatty Potty compliment: “Totally not trying to be gross, but I just pooed almost 10lbs, No joke. I feel freaking awesome.” Good for him, I guess. If the Squatty Potty website is in any way accurate, he’s halfway to being poop-free.
I contacted Robert Edwards, the Utah-based creator of Squatty Potty, and he gave me even more reasons to think I’ve been living in a bowel-movement prison. “By opening the colon, pooping in the natural squat position makes elimination faster, more complete, and reduces straining,” he said. Squatting rather than sitting could help prevent things like constipation, hemorrhoids, colon cancer, appendicitis, IBS, hernias, diverticulosis, and pelvic organ prolapse. But just as important, he said, “Squatting feels better. The excellent feeling that comes from a complete elimination is ubiquitous. Everyone likes a good poo, and with the Squatty Potty, you are rarely denied a full complete elimination.”
He had me at “a good poo.” As I get older, these things are forefront on my mind. In my 20s, I never thought twice about bowel movements. But now that I’m in my 40s, I think about it every day, and I worry. Have you heard that Louis C.K. joke about his unpredictable poops, how he tells his doctor that “every shit is an emergency”? I listen to that routine and it fills me with white-knuckled dread. Louis C.K. is 46, and I’m heading his way fast. I don’t want to share in his poop shame. I want to be like Keith Richards, a 70-year-old former junkie whose bloodstream is more polluted than the Mississippi River. And yet, according to his own 2010 memoir, Life, his poops are unremarkable and unalarming. “First we have the bowel movement,” Richards wrote of his daily routine. “Cool, that’s that out of the way. Seen a friend off to the coast.”
I want to grow old and become like Keith Richards. Not all of it; just the way he poops.
Bi-Polar disorder, Black Box ABC, buy John's book, CBT therapy, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, dating, depression, Ditch Davey, DSM diagnosis, gay, gay dating, House, Hugh Laurie, Jesse Spencer, Kelly Reilly, LGBT, love, Manic Depressive disorder, mental health, Olivia Wilde, perspective, point of view, relationships, sex, Siobhan Williams, tv drama, Vanessa Redgrave
For a few hours yesterday I was flying blissfully high, getting a compliment in court from Judge Moore, smiling and speaking to everyone, confident and optimistic about life. In bed this morning, after calling in sick, my high peak is now a low valley. FML, what if this is as good as it gets? why can’t I find somebody to love me? what’s wrong with me…Last night I watched Black Box, and loved it, identifying with the main character and even seeing some of my Cognitive Behavioral Training in use. Black Box is from the House creative team of writers and producers.
@thejohnjernigan, atlanta, buy John's book on Amazon, Clark Gregg, dating, fun quizzes, funny, gay, gay dating, humor, LGBT, lifestyle, Marvel, pop culture, queer, relationships, sex, St. Petersburg, Steven Chicurel, Sugar in My Bowl, tampa
I took Bitecharges’ quiz “What Type of Person Are You?” and I am:
You are in love with happiness and nature. You want every one to have a joyful and fulfilling life. You enjoy peace and serenity but are also exceptionally adventurous and overall jazzed about life!
Wishing I could enlighten myself into finding a boyfriend though…Clark Gregg maybe?
I want a little Sugar in My Bowl…
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$10 at the St. Vincent de Paul thrift store on 34th. Not really a fan of feet though, either mine or anyone else’s. Maybe my next boyfriend will be a foot fetishist and I will gift it to him…
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@thejohnjernigan, amy sedaris, authors, book reviews, books, buy John's book, dating, David Sedaris, essays, funny, gay, gay dating, humor, Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls, LGBT, Me Talk Pretty One Day, pop culture, queer, relationships, sex, writers
David is my mentor, my muse, my lover, my best friend…I wish. He is my favorite author, and I aspire/try/think that I have a writing style similar to his. Go buy my book on Amazon for $3.99 and see for yourself. David is quirky, nerdy, smart, sarcastic…just my type. I Love You, Man! John Jernigan-Sedaris
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16 years old, cruising Highland Park in Birmingham’s Southside, singing along with Dead or Alive and Erasure, searching for a distinguished gentleman: so so GAY! and criminal?
“The other night a close friend told me
Never let my heart fall into careless hands
I said,”Thanks, that’s very nice, appreciate your good advice
But things don’t always go the way that I planned”
“I try to discover
A little something to make me sweeter
Oh baby refrain from breaking my heart
I’m so in love with you
I’ll be forever blue
That you give me no reason
Why you’re making me work so hard
That you give me no
Soul, I hear you calling
Oh baby please give a little respect to me”
@thejohnjernigan, boston terrier, buy John's book $3.99, daddyhunt, dating, dogs, french bulldog, french quarter, gay, gay dating, LGBT, lifestyle, new orleans, pets, queer, relationships, sex, silverdaddies, St. Petersburg, tampa, Tampa Bay, Ybor City
Do I have the energy and optimism to get ready and cross the bridge into Ybor City this beautiful spring night? Probably not, my future ex-husband isn’t likely to be there anyway 😦 Instead I’ll probably just curl up on the couch with my true loves, Cricket and Squeak.
I live on Central Ave. in St. Petersburg. St. Pete is actually the 4th largest city in Florida, between Tampa and Orlando. You can’t tell that from the queer nightlife. There is really only one gay club here, Georgie’s, and it’s very 1990’s. I can walk to Georgie’s from my apartment, and have a few times, but it’s just not cute. The problem with venturing into Ybor is that I have to be drunk/tipsy to deal with the ugliness, and then I’m faced with drunk driving over the bridge at 3 a.m. or hooking up with some random vodka-goggles dude…that ain’t cool, man.
Ybor City Chamber of Commerce description:
“Known as Tampa’s Latin Quarter for over a century, Ybor City is an exotic blend of aromas, flavors, sights and sounds. From the scent of roasting Cuban coffee early in the morning to the rhythms of Latin music late into the night, Ybor is a feast for the senses.
Choose from a variety of cuisine – Spanish, Cuban, Italian, Greek and French – just by strolling down La Setima, the main street of the Historic District. Share authentic tapas and a pitcher of Spanish sangria in a café atmosphere reminiscent of a Mediterranean village.
Browse eclectic shops and art galleries or visit one of the museums. See a “hand-rolled cigar” being made or just relax and “people watch” with a cup of Ybor’s famous cafe con leche.
Listen to the music of the night – jazz, blues, salsa, reggae and even hip-hop emanate from a selection of pubs, patio bars and nightclubs. Ybor is alive with a variety of entertainment that makes it one of Florida’s top-ranked nightspots.
Founded by Vicente Martinez-Ybor as a cigar-manufacturing center, Ybor City today is one of only two National Historic Landmark Districts in Florida. Red brick buildings, wrought iron balconies and narrow brick streets give it an old-world charm that is a refreshing change of pace from the beach and the mall.”
Oh it’s an exotic blend of aromas all right. Having lived in New Orleans, I can say Ybor ain’t no French Quarter. It is fairly dirty and sleazy and dangerous, in parts, but that old Nawlins magic ain’t happenin.’ Oh jeez, maybe I’ll get on the interwebs and find a husband on daddyhunt or silverdaddies 🙂 (JK)
JK: just kidding for older folks
@thejohnjernigan, book reviews, books, buy John's book on Amazon, culture, dating, depression, gay, gay dating, LGBT, lifestyle, literature, loneliness, love, perspective, point of view, queer, relationships, sex, the Good Earth -Pearl S. Buck.
An all-time classic, one of my favorites, first read when I was maybe 10 years old. My love of money and desire to own things and be rich made it super interesting to me…sadly, I have no money, don’t own much and sure ain’t rich.
“To eat bread without hope is still slowly to starve to death.”
“Love cannot be forced, love cannot be coaxed and teased. It comes out of heaven, unasked and unsought.”
“Many people lose the small joys in the hope for the big happiness.”
“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him… a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create — so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”
“I feel no need for any other faith than my faith in the kindness of human beings. I am so absorbed in the wonder of earth and the life upon it that I cannot think of heaven and angels.”
“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that’s where you renew your springs that never dry up. ”