Sex Sells! Day 30 Photo

Sex sells. And boy do I know. This photo got me into so much trouble. But I'm using it now to raise money in a more legitimate way. Help me tell my story about getting OUT of the sex industry just in the nick of time by donating to my "The Mormon Boy Trilogy Off Broadway 2014" IndieGoGo Campaign.

Donate $10 and get my new album "Confessions of a Mormon Boy (Live from London)!" Please donate right away. Only $6,900 and 30 days left to go! I need your help and can't fund my work alone. http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/x/3023743

Over eleven years clean from my sex work "experiment"!

Sugar Daddy Free!

18 Months of Living Clean

And so today I have eighteen months clean and sober. I have had "one year" several times on this journey but eventually I would fall through the cracks due to a move or even a break-up or being broke or any other resentment that might flare up. So this is an important milestone for me--the most "clean time" I've had since starting this journey in October 2003.

I started "binging" on alcohol after my divorce and excommunication Aug 2000. I was 30 years old. Within a year I was introduced to crystal meth in a penthouse in New York. I didn't know what was about to hit me. It blew my gaskets and my pleasure centers were thrashed! The crash was beyond demoralizing. I was addicted the first time I used.

There is no way to tell all my story right now and at this time. It was hard to admit I had a problem because I seemed so "normal" and no one around me thought I had a problem. But deep inside I knew I did. It was like a tsunami ready to crash upon me all the time--and it did.

I am grateful that recovery found me within two years of binging and that the programs I started held my hand until I could have enough bottoms to surrender.

I am so grateful for this journey. Recovery is something I learned I could not do perfectly. This is a hard thing to accept for a "Mormon boy." Humility is something that I lacked.

So here is to another 18 months one day at a time. Easy Does It. First Things First. May I continue to show up for life, learn how to serve others and to still be able to say at the end of each day (like I do at the end of Confessions of a Mormon Boy), "Heavenly Father, thank you for my life."

I would be happy to hear from anyone privately who thinks they might have a problem. Maybe together we can talk about a solution that could work for you. It seems to be working for me at this moment. And I see it work for others with much more time and experience. God bless.

fales.steven@gmail.com

Latter Gay Saints

There is an exciting anthology coming out July 15th by Lethe Press called Latter Gay Saints in which excerpts from my solo play Missionary Position are included. I'm one of 22 writers selected. The cover is artwork by Trevor Southey. Look for it! I think it will be a real showcase for the gay Mormon experience. http://lethepressbooks.com/

Missionary Position is Part Two in The Mormon Boy Trilogy which also includes Confessions of a Mormon Boy and Prodigal Dad.

 

Serenity

I wrote this song to help me heal after a breakup. It's been almost a year and time to let go. Serenity to all.

SERENITY

Music and lyrics by Steven Fales
(based on the painting “Serenity” by Daniel Pollera)

SERENITY

Making love to you.
This song may be too intimate,
But sweetheart I’m so into it.
I have found
SERENITY
In you.

There’s a place

Where all the light is right
And all the walls are bright
The sea is calm and blue
And afternoons with you
We’re walking in the sand
Or play your baby grand.
But that place
Is water colored walls
Just two dimensional
I’m trapped inside a dream
The picture’s cruel and mean
There’s no light from above
And we’re not making love.

It’s not

SERENITY
Making love to you.
This song may be too intimate
But I was just so into it.
How will I ever heal
And find a love that’s for real?
Reality,
Bring back
SERENITY.

There’s a door.

It leads out to a porch
An idyllic scene of sorts
There’s a pair of empty shoes
Symmetrical and new
But the shoelaces don’t fit
And so the shoes just sit.
And that scene
Is now a scene for one
Bare footprints could be fun
But you’ve locked yourself inside
And I won’t let you hide.
I’d save you if I could
But I don’t know if I should.
There’s no knob on the door
You don’t answer anymore.
I’ll save you. Yes, I can.
No! You’re the superman!

I want

SERENITY
Waking up with you.
I was so darn into it.
You’re my biggest sober hit.
Now I’m alone it’s true
Wishin’ I was there with you.
We were so deep in love.
Help me find strength above
I may be crazy
But join me.
We’ll make
SERENITY.

There’s a room

With lots of space to run
And windows full of sun.
So spotless they don’t gleam
‘Cause everything’s so clean.
There’s not a speck of dust
And pipes don’t ever rust.
But that room
Has no pulse or breath
A slow and perfect death
No place for dogs or kids
Or leftover dinner lids
Disapproval and disgust
With no laughs or lust
And fear has killed all trust.
That’s not a place for us!

SERENITY

I’ll make it up to you.
If you don’t want to play
This song will surely find a way
To give to you from me
My love eternally
And bless you anyway
I don’t know how to say
More than—

SERENITY is past                                                              

So what am I to do?
The waves come crashing on the rocks
And no lighthouse can rescue us.
Don’t let me drown.
I’m going down.
I want--
SERENITY!

Take a look.

Not just a passing glance
Or you won’t get a chance
To see what’s really there.
Look, really get a stare.
Above the window pane--
Look, there’s a water stain.
It is faint.
You couldn’t see before
It’s not perfect anymore.
It never was that way
And look, we’re still okay.
I’ll try harder not to fix
Anymore of your tics
With all my selfish tricks.

SERENITY

Make it up to you.
This song may be too intimate
But I am still so into it.
SERENITY
Wondering what is true.
I can’t stop wanting what we had
Because the good outweighs the bad.
I would trade it all for you.
Come back to me.
You’re my
SERENITY.

SERENITY

Making love to you.
This song may be too intimate
But I was just so into it.
SERENITY.
Come back to me.
Let me learn
And let me earn
SERENITY.

We could be havin’ fun.

Sober oblivion.
The picture’s still undone.
It’s called SERENITY.

New York Is My Mistress

New York Is My Mistress

By Steven Fales

New York City, November 2009

 

New York is my mistress I surely shall want

She maketh me to lie down in dark pastures

She leadeth me beside the crystal meth waters

She cheateth my soul

In the valley of the shadow of the urban jungle

I can never find the right place to pee

So once again I am wet with shame

She has too many tempting alleyways

I cannot decide how far down to go

Or which subway will take me all the way

One is too many and a thousand never enough

Unless this time she will kindly not hold the door

Death, thy name is “More!”

Bigger, bigger, pull the trigger.

 

How can I tame you, lover?

I sketch and shuffle across bridge and tunnel

With my tweak and my stink

In my autumn hoodie I scare and

Scatter elders, tweens and twinks

As you speed me to squalor

From Chelsea dungeons to Brighton Beach dawn

I clench my teeth too tired to yawn

So cold you can smell that the falling rain

Will soon turn to snow to salt my brain

And in my flip-flops I straddle and trudge

As you strut on by and I cop my grudge

You cost all I have and barely give back

Your displeasured countenance

And hostile indifference terrify me

I feel alone as you swallow me whole

Too good to call whore at your prostitute’s craft

In your sexy black dress

So bad you can’t even wear red

Trade your heels in for boots with that killer skill

I harness my gods to thy ravenous will

What else is in that duffle?

Trouble, trouble, quite a double!

Thy rod and thy staff they escort me

Thou preparest a table before me

In the presence of hell’s dark kitchen

My Canal Street Rolex has stopped

My lighter, too. You want it?

I’m sorry, but this time

I just can’t seem to

Give it up or

Get it up or

Keep

It

Up

I’m milked bone dry

And that strap on you’re wearing

Could use some more lube

The least you could do

After all we’ve meant to each other is spit

Is that you or me on the faceless, plasma screen?

I don’t ever want to know who’s riding whom

It’s all uploaded and downloaded and over with now

Your virus is high and my t-cells are low

I’ve tasted my blood and know that it’s so.

 

You taketh my youth, beauty, talent, funds –

I have only dreams to give

And dreams won’t pay for the view

Not in the swanky penthouses wherein you reign

I can’t even furnish the foyer

The change bowl is filthy copper now

Or is it zinc and soot?

Zounds! The spending loot’s long gone

With only receipts to remind me

That now I am hopelessly drifting in debt

Compounded interest cuffing my heart

Waterboarding what once was hope and art

You are a frenzied banquet on which others feed

Napkin? Crab cake? Tartare? Bizarre!

Your tall flute runneth o’er as I lick the flowing lucre

And hunger and thirst in your miserable, gluttonous presence

Bubble, bubble, have a double!

Weak and undone even Broadway’s no fun

Each gay exhibit doth now prohibit

I can’t even score a free pass to Dendur

And I am not brave enough to go

Where mafia has fed my tribe before

Just ask your red-headed step sister, Vegas

Or my mother’s Mormon daddy!

No longer a hooker myself (I know the drill)

Hustle, hustle, feel my muscle

Shazam! Bam! I will not slam!

Leave me! Go! Find another victim

If you can

If you dare

What

Do

You

Care?

Choose your poison as you huff and puff

Passion passes me by like the parades you fake

And the fags you smoke

All your manic whims and wishes are wasted on me

For johns will be johns--sores, warts and all

The transaction’s complete

In the wreckage of your presence

I defer to the future

Be careful what you wish for because . . .

 

I will return one stormy night

When I can foot your bill and

Pay your rent late fees and all

And extend your lease without rent control

Say good bye to your pad up on high

In your hipster tower that makes Trump men sigh

I will marry you at last

And bring you down

And slow you down

And

Change

Your

Gown

Surprise! Astonish! Astound!

No limo for you but a taxi for two

I will be the pimp you truly needed

But did not think was man enough

No longer a sugar daddy or trophy wife

We will partner, sweetheart, dear

You will dress in white and so will I

Equally bound with veil and tie

And you will have my sober child

Struck whole and complete the nor’easter past  

Blunting steeples and uprooting trees

Littering parks like a ce-me-ter-y

Hovel, hovel, no more shovel!

We will make love to vanilla flames

 

And lavender lotion shall soothe and calm

I’ll play pi-a-nah and you will sing

While daffodils dance to our plunk and ping

Together we’ll cook and read the Times

And nurse the child as St. John’s chimes

Give the nanny the day off—for life!

Let the Boston terriers back in

And take off the leather leash for good

No tag or muzzle for them, you or me

No more need for harm or even charm

We shall dwell in a sunny two-bedroom

Pre-war, fifth floor, modest decor

With coffee, mint and Kelly green

And butterfly kisses on places we keen

On the Upper West Side

(Between 72^nd and 86^th Street

And Riverside and W.E.A.)

Pushing a stroller we will be seen

 

Shopping Fairway forever.

I Like the Villians!

My death scene as Edmund in King Lear, Connecticut Repertory Theatre.

"For the pure sensuous embodiment of evil, Steven Fales alone is worth the price of admission."
--Norwich Bulletin.


A villain is a character who just hasn't found recovery yet!

When I was in college and graduate school I was often cast as the charismatic villain in the play or musical. How could this be? Wasn't I a good wholesome Mormon boy? Yes, I was. But I found I could tap into the villain mentality quite easily even though I had never, ever done anything "bad" or "wrong" in my life. Maybe it was a way to express family secrets. Maybe it was a foreshadowing of things to come.

When I began using and drinking and whoring at 30/31 I wanted to play the good guy. And now after a fair amount of recovery I want to play the villain again! I've played Edmund the bastard in King Lear and I love the cads having played "Joe" in The Most Happy Fella, "Gerry" in Dancing at Lughnasa, "Kodaly" in She Loves Me and even white trash "Tom Joad" in The Grapes of Wrath. I've played many others (onstage and off!). Give me the lost guy with the fading smile--the featured role needed to let the "good guy" shine and who will ultimately outshine himself. I understand my shadow today--it's yearning for the light.

So as I plan to move back to NYC I wonder if I am meant to play the nice dads in the commercials I've been doing or to go back to the villains with a new understanding.

I'm drawn to the story of being burned by the world and reclaiming and redeeming the villains! It's pretty evident if you get to see my new solo play Prodigal Dad in The Mormon Boy Trilogy. The prodigal is destined to make it back home.

Here's the link to my IndieGoGo Campaign. Help me bring more villains into the world! https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/set_up

Day 36 Making Mormon Music

In my family growing up "Mormon" meant growing up "Music!" Mom played the piano and I would sing . . . and later take piano lessons. She would play "Rustles of Spring" or "Maleguena" for hours as I'd dance. But most of all she'd play show tunes to "Fiddler" and "Camelot" and hymn after hymn.

The Mormon Boy Trilogy is not a musical, but all three solo shows have just enough singing to help tell the story: Confessions of a Mormon Boy, Missionary Position, and Prodigal Dad.

I hope you will look at my IndieGoGo Campaign and help me bring my beloved family's music to life Off-Broadway 2014. http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/x/3023743

Donate just $10 and get the new album for free! "Confessions of a Mormon Boy (Live from London)!"

Thank you for the music!

My arm around my little brother (there are four more siblings!). That's mom's piano she bought with babysitting money. That is the music to the Mormon musical "Saturday's Warrior" and the Mormon Children's Songbook. On the wall is one of many of mom's "tufting" creations. And on the piano is a marble statue of two naked Greek wrestlers and another Greek vase from mom's exotic travels! Ahem.