Dammit Dammit CRAPOOooo.
This is KILLING me.
I'm sitting on a powder keg of material, and all it would take to set it off is one blog post. The photos are some of the best work I've done in years and the writing wrote itself in a bolt of lightning delivered to my frontal lobe while I was on the can the other night. It's cosmic and effervescent, glorious and life-affirming, while also being about drag queens.
And I can't post a pixel of it.
Did I mention this was killing me?
I'm obligated, personally and professionally, to keep a tight lid on this experience. Tearing the roof off this mothersucker like I was born to do would severely strain one of my best friendships -- by severely straining several of one of my best friend's best friendships. Unfortunately, the greedy green dragon that is my ego is going to have to lick the corners out of his cage for oh, FOREVER until something else this awesome comes along.
Although, if he's hungry, he might try nibbling away at my flair for the dramatic. There's certainly enough of that to go around.
But do you ever get that? Where something would make such a GREAT post but, you know, your crummy conscience gets in the way?
I'm not talking to the army of two-bit Carrie Bradshaws that clots the DC blogosphere, either. You know who you are -- you vicious bitches will stop at nothing for eyeballs, and god help the guys that actually like you. But the rest of you -- the ones with souls -- do you get this, too? Where your friends or your family have pulled something CLASSIC, or you've been a party to something MINDBLOWING and your sense of decency gets in the way?
Here come the questions:
Is this what stops people from becoming successful? Is it possible to achieve mega-success without trampling a few friendships along the way? And is that success worth it -- or do you think it is from where you sit now?
Because every great post -- not the ones you toss off before bed, like this one, but the ones you pour love, lust and sweat into -- those get me closer. Closer to what I want to be and how I want to live all the time. And it hurts to give that a pass.
But then I think about the other me, the one that will hopefully be subsumed into the cosmos' benevolent energy field after I die. The guy the stars have never read, the man that has never made the Milky Way chuckle with a well-turned phrase. And then I think : Is writing this going to enrich the cosmos? Will I fit as perfectly into the universe's vibrational field when that times comes if I disrespect my friend's wishes?
That's not a rhetorical question. What's your answer?