I choose to live my life openly and speak candidly about my personal controversies because I refuse to let others define me through distortions and misconceptions. Early on, I grew frustrated watching effeminate portrayals dominate how gay men were represented—on television, in the media, and in public discourse. These depictions didn’t reflect the men I knew: working-class, grounded, and far removed from the flamboyant stereotypes associated with figures like Jim J. Bullock, Rip Taylor, or Liberace.

For years, I identified as gay, but I’ve since come to understand that I was never truly part of what “gay” came to mean. I’ve always been homosexual. The term “gay” became entangled in the political and cultural revolutions of the 60s and 70s, rooted in collectivism and social movements that never felt like home to me. Attempting to broaden or redefine that identity was, I’ve realized, misguided.

Because I lived openly—without shielding myself with stereotypes—and pursued a life that was often nomadic and unconventional, others took liberties in shaping my narrative. Much of what was said or assumed has been wrong, sometimes maliciously so. That's why transparency is not just a choice for me—it’s a necessity. By telling my story in full, with honesty and nuance, I reclaim the power to define who I am, on my own terms.

It means choosing the unconventional path toward freedom, sobriety, and a life lived authentically. At every fork in the road, I chose the scarier path that pulled me away from expectations and closer to who I truly am.

I had three major forks:
1️⃣ Leaving Huntington, WV, for San Francisco after being attacked outside a gay club.
2️⃣ Leaving a successful career in San Francisco for Palm Springs to pursue art and activism.
3️⃣ Taking a literal “right turn” near El Paso, choosing sobriety over returning to addiction.

San Francisco’s gay community was shifting toward profit over protest, housing was unaffordable, and I longed for community and creativity. I moved to Palm Springs to live more authentically.

Freedom is worth risk. Fear often hides love waiting to happen. Authentic living can cost comfort but brings deeper purpose. Cherish friendships along the way.

Success is having enough to live authentically, whether in a condo or a tiny artist’s studio. Happiness is living aligned with your truth and vibing with nature under big open skies.

If you want to change everything, change everything. Don’t do it half-heartedly. It won’t be easy, but if you’re young and it won’t kill you, take the risk.

My dogs—Bailey, Morgan, Toby, Leo, and Gia—were with me on every journey, every move, every recovery. They remain reminders of unconditional love.

I jump when opportunities arise while mitigating risks. Fear is normal, but it shouldn’t stop you. Consider outcomes, but don’t let fear freeze you.

I wish I had kept more friendships close and not treated people as temporary. The journey is temporary, but people matter.

Cherish your friendships. The places may be temporary, but the people will fill your life with love and joy, making every risk worth it