Morning...

In the morning, I wake to find you beside me. I find you as you are--untouched by the movement of the day--but in a state of purity. You are just coming to life, giving birth to yourself, emerging from the womb of the night's sleep. I experience you in that state of quiet imperfection--touseled hair, stained breath, sleep-filled eyes. I see you as you are-- in the natural, raw condition of your total humanity. I experience the scents of your body--unwashed, naked flesh. This is an intimacy reserved for me alone. In the morning, you are most beautiful. And in the morning, our love is new.

I finally know what love is...

He walks into the room and my heart stops for just a moment. He steals a sweet kiss when we are alone in the elevator. He holds my hand as we walk down the street. He strokes my head as we wait in line at the grocery store. He calls me at work to let me know that it's raining and to be careful coming home. He wraps his arms around me as I drift to sleep.

He sees my faults, but loves me just as I am. He challenges me to be a better man. He lives his life with passion and integrity. He is intelligent, kind, honest, and compassionate. He is my best friend!

I once read that falling in love is like having Miracle Grow thrown onto all of your character flaws. There are times when I don't trust as much as I should. There are times when I am difficult and stubborn. There are times when I am afraid. There are times when I test him to see how much I can get away with. Through it all, he is my rock. He is my soft place to land.

I used to think that love was that "warm and fuzzy" stuff that romantic comedies are made of. I now know that love is in the details of daily life. It's in knowing that no matter what happens you are not alone. Freddie is the first person I speak to each morning and the last person I speak to each night. It is he that I have chosen to love "from each sun to each moon...from tomorrow to tomorrow"

Small Town Boy... Big City Dreams

"Keep your money in your shoe, and don't look anyone in the eye." That was the advice my mother gave me the night before I boarded the plane to travel to New York City for the first time. My mother could not understand my excitement. She had always been completely content with her simple small-town existence. Everything she desired or needed could be found in her own backyard. That contentment was something I had not known for a long time. It was in my adolescent years that I first became aware of a hunger that my life in Western South Dakota would never be able to satisfy. It was my first visit to New York City which finally gave a life to that hunger, and it was the sweet voice of that hunger which eventually called me to leave the Black Hills of South Dakota and to make my home in the San Francisco Bay Area.


The city has a heartbeat. It has an electrical buzz, a surging energy that awakens the senses. For those who have lived the greatest share of their lives in metropolitan areas, the electricity of the city may be too commonplace to be discerned. For me, it was a drug, and like a child tasting candy for the first time, I wanted more. For ten days, I did things I had only heard about or read about. I was attending a conference and was being housed on the campus of Columbia University. At night, I would ride the subway to Broadway, eat in an ethnic restaurant because the food was cheaper and nothing like the food I could get back home, and take in a show. Before returning to the dormitory where I was staying, I would go to the West End, once a hangout for the likes of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, for a beer or two. I fell asleep to the sounds of taxis and people on the streets.


In the city, I was a different man. I was more alive somehow, awakened with possibility. Every day I saw glimpses of the person I could be, the person I was becoming. I noticed my pace as I walked the city streets had changed. It had quickened; I was becoming a part of this unique life force. And although I did not understand the sum total of the impact this trip had on my life in that moment, I knew that I was no longer the same man who had boarded the plane ten days earlier. I had lived my entire life knowing that the world was a much bigger place than I could even imagine. I was starved for culture and diversity, for the arts--music, theatre, books, ideas. I wanted more than the homogenized sepia-toned existence of the Great Plains. More than that, I needed more. I needed to be inspired by life, and now I knew that I could be. I had experienced life in living color. I suddenly knew what I was missing.


None of us know when the wake-up call will come. We become complacent in our lives, accepting the status quo because it is comfortable or because we are too afraid to make a change. My life in South Dakota was a long goodbye which began the moment I discovered my love for art, music, theatre, and diversity. My farewell was bittersweet. I left behind the Black Hills and prairie, trading them for a view of the bay. I said goodbye to my family and followed my heart to place which has become home. There are moments when I long for the home and the landscape I once knew. I miss the mountains and the farmland and ranches which stretch on for miles. I miss the people whose simple way of life and whose values have shaped who I am. I miss my family and my friends, those people who are most dear to me. When the longing comes, I answer it and in this I have found a most unusual paradox. Home looks most beautiful when approached from a distance.

Hello Kind Reader~
These are two of my favorite pictures. The first of me and my partner at SF Gay Pride in 2004. I was so happy that day. The second is of me and Butch.

So...You may be wondering "who" I am. Obviously, I'm more than a name...
Here's how I like to think of myself...

Jerome is a writer, musician, philosopher, free-thinker, and teacher with a deep appreciation for all things avant-garde. He enjoys stimulating conversations, captivating novels, killer lattes, and sleeping late. He grew up in the Black Hills of Western South Dakota and studied English and music at a small, state university. He has an intense love of words and a profound fear of heights. Jerome has been described by his friends as a “hummingbird on caffeine.” His youngest sister affectionately calls him “butt nugget.” To his family, he is the “weird one” and his father is convinced that his mother dropped him on his head during infancy. He is a painfully shy introvert who is evolving into an extrovert through a most amazing journey of self-discovery and sometime neurotic behavior. Jerome now makes his home on the West Coast where he undergoes “culture shock therapy” on a daily basis. He happily shares his life with his partner Freddie and their Boston Terrier, Butch. He is practicing radical acceptance of himself and others. His views of the world and personal, biased opinions of life are the inspiration for his blog. Feel free to respond to his blog or email him at Bohemedude@aol.com. Put "BLOG COMMENT" in subject line.

“Now is the time for walking…” I had just reached the turnstile on my way to catch the subway when that thought came to mind. The thought came to me in a flash, as if someone had just turned on a bright light, or a single tone had sounded from a bell. In comparison to the millions of trivial and random thoughts that float through an active mind like mine on a daily basis, this particular thought was unique in a way that I couldn’t really define. It was like a slight nudge, a gentle prodding. “Now is the time for walking…” As I slowly became aware of the thought, I had another realization. Just moments before, I had left work and walked the five city blocks to where I catch the subway everyday. As I placed my subway pass into the reader on the turnstile, it occurred to me that I could not remember walking to the station. Had I turned out the lights and locked my office door? Was it raining outside? Was the street vendor selling her wares outside the station? I could not recollect a single detail of my short journey.

“Now is the time for walking…” The rest of the way home, I pondered the meaning of this strange thought, which continued to echo in mind. This thought seemed to have a life of its own, and I could not simply discount it as one of the many incidental ideas that enter my mind, literally by the second. “What shall I have for lunch? Damn, I have a hole in my sock… right by the big toe. I don’t think I’ll go to the gym tonight…” Somehow, I recognized, these words had purpose. Recently, I have become interested in Zen Buddhism, and while my understanding of its precepts and practices is elementary at best, I have come to truly appreciate one of the basic foundations of Zen—AWARENESS. As my life becomes crazier and crazier, something inside of me cries out for simplicity. As more and more of my day becomes consumed with obligation and duty, I find myself longing for a moment or two to myself. As that space within myself becomes more and more cluttered with stress and anxiety and the busyness of life, I find myself in need of silence and calm.

The word Buddha means “Awake.” Zen practice is focused on awareness, being in the moment. “Now is the time for walking…” This simple thought opened the door to profound wisdom and led me to a pointed question: How much of my life passes by without my awareness? It is so easy to go through life on autopilot. Multi-tasking has become a way of life. We talk on our cell phones while we drive in our cars. We thumb through a magazine or watch television while we are eating dinner. We have become so accustomed to excessive stimulation that we are unable to quiet our minds enough to become fully aware and present. “Now is the time for walking…” The more I considered this simple idea, the more its message became crystal clear.

That day, like many others, I had allowed my mind to become carried away by thoughts and worries. As I walked to the station, my mind had continued to make To-Do lists and plans for the next day’s staff meeting. Physically I was walking down the street, but mentally I was seated at my desk…working. “Now is the time…” It was an invitation to wake up. Making my way home, I made a concerted effort to be more mindful. Everything became new. I ate dinner and slowed down enough to truly taste the food. I washed the dishes carefully, allowing my hands to feel the water. I listened to one of my favorite CD’s with my eyes closed so I could really focus on the sound of the music. And, as I crawled into bed that night, I found that my mind and spirit were quiet. I’d like to say that I live my life with such mindfulness everyday. Sadly, that is not the case. Like my propensity to procrastinate, craziness and busyness continue to make their way into my life. But, when I find myself becoming overwhelmed by all of the things that require my attention, I simply remind myself to slow down and to do one thing at a time. I remind myself to truly notice all of the things that are around me. I remind myself to “Be here now.” Now is the time for walking!