Like Its Your Last

Mortality. We think we have an understanding of it. But, do we?
I had a terrible relationship with my father, from the time I was a boy. He was abusive to both me and my Ma. He was an absolute monster.
At 18 y/o I wrote my father a letter, telling him to never speak to me again. Time passed. I grew older. And the resentment I felt towards him, corroded me. Like mercury, flooding my veins. All of the pain, disappointment, and sadness ruled me. In 2011, I received a call from my dad’s niece. She told me that he was very sick with bone cancer. Beyond treatment. And, he was being released from the hospital, to hospice. Something in me shifted. That little boy in me, who always wanted to hold his father’s hand, resurfaced. Past the pain. Past the hatred. To the truth. And, the truth was, that I loved my father with all of my heart. And, my father was going to die. I desperately wanted to see him before he passed. To look into his eyes and forgive. Hug him, and let all of the years I’d wasted, sitting in hatred, melt away. I immediately booked a flight from San Diego to White Plains. But time waits for no one. And, my father left this world before I could get to him. The pain I felt…the pain I still feel, is immeasurable. No forgiveness. No closure. And it haunts me to this day. Yeah. I know what you’re gonna comment and say..”He’s watching over you now from Heaven.” And that’s great.  But, it doesn’t console me. That’s my truth. I live with it.
Most of you know, my ex lover, Tony Serafini, took his life. After almost 3 years together, we broke up. Due to my addiction. I had relapsed, after he and I were having problems in the relationship. And after we broke up, he emailed me. He begged me to get sober, so we could be together again. And, in my sick addict mind, I believed I would get sober again. “Just a few more weeks of partying.” I told myself. Then, I would get sober. Tony and I would resume our relationship, and everything would be better. But, I couldn’t bring myself to answer his email. Not while
I was still high. I told myself that I’d respond to Tony’s email once I was clean again. Just a few months later. I awoke from a blackout. I had been on a crack cocaine binge for about 5 days. My friend Chris was blowing up my phone. I answered. He told me solemnly, that Tony was dead. By his own hand. My baby was gone. Gone from this world, forever. And, there was no closure. No last spoken word. And living in the knowledge that I will wait ’til the day I die, to see my love breaks my heart.
The message I’m sharing is not only for extreme cases, like the ones I just wrote about.
How many times in a day does that little voice within, tell you to text an old friend you haven’t seen or spoken to in awhile and say, “I’m thinking of you.” But, you disregard the notion because you’re “too busy”? Or, you see an associate at work..just in passing.. and it occurs to you to smile at them. But you quickly disregard that notion, because you aren’t in the mood to smile? Or, you have a petty argument with a friend or lover, and ice them out for a few days, weeks, because you “need space”? And yeah…sometimes, we do need space, when we are angry, or feeling frustrated.
Just remember:
That moment…when you’re finally ready to reach may be gone. Life is fragile. Someone, who is perfectly healthy, living their life, can be taken. Here today. Gone tomorrow.
So, my advice:
“Never let the sun go down on your anger.” If you’re “beefing” with someone you love, because they did you so wrong. Take a look at your part. In my experience…unless someone has held a weapon to me, I’ve had a part in the problem, as well. So, make the amends. Get over it. And love each other. Reach out, when you get the vague inclination to hug a friend.
Smile at your work associates, Or,even at that stranger in the gym. If you’re in a crap mood. Get over it. The power of a smile is stronger than you know.
If there is a person in your life, whom you haven’t spoken to in forever. And you’re waiting on them to reach out. Pick up the phone, and initiate.
It’s such an easy concept to discuss. But more difficult to put into action. The ego is a formidable opponent. It tells us to seek revenge. To ignore kind gestures. My ego even tells me that I’m less of a man for doing these very things.  But honestly, I’d rather feel like a moron, for attempting to do these things,,,than live in the pain I have felt, for not doing them.
Treat every moment you share with a person, like it’s your last.IMG_8913

The Beast

The Beast

We all know it. We all live for it. And we are all completely enslaved by it. Social media. Before I proceed, let me preface by saying that when I write “we”, I am including “me”.
This thing we all live for. Pass our time with. Whatever you want to call your involvement with social media. It’s a swirling, pixelated, perfectly edited reality show we have all created for ourselves.
I can barely remember what my life was like when I just lived for myself. And not for what the world thought of me.
Today, I can take a picture, edit the picture , write any narrative I choose, and project an image of myself that I want the world to perceive as my truth. And maybe…just maybe..if the bullshit I’m projecting is believable enough, I can start to believe it, as well.
OK. So, you’re getting a little uncomfortable right now. That’s ok. Take a breath. Relax. Cuz there’s more!
How many times during the day do I grab my phone to check my different social media pages? If I actually counted and told you the number..I’d probably cry.
For me…an addict. Social media is the perfect playground. I can be validated for any random emotion I’m experiencing..24 hours a day! “I’m feeling sad!” Retweet me, so the world knows just how sad I am.” CONSOLE ME!!
 If I’m feeling sexy, tell me how sexy I am! “Like” and “favorite” my sexiness!!
And the information I disclose…the most random, silly shit! Then I am sooooo shocked when a stranger comes up to me at the gym, asking me if that hemorrhoid I had last week is better.
And let’s not even touch on how social media has completely destroyed social graces. Ok, ok…let’s talk about it!
Can we get through a nice meal at a restaurant without “checking in”, updating our status. or photographing our actual meal??
My boyfriend told me, “You spend so much time invested in that fantasy world. And, I found myself feeling really defensive. I am far enough along in my sober journey to realize that anything which makes me feel defensive is usually true.
And let’s not forget about the ongoing “nighttime soap operas”  we create, in the form of social media wars. WTF is that?? Today’s answer to addressing a “beef” with someone is to completely humiliate them, saying the most malevolent, vicious remarks on social media that we can think of. Involving innocent people with our “beefs”. Rallying troops. All over something that could be settled with a simple one on one conversation with a person.
I’ve been guilty of this. Admittedly. And it never fails. EVERY SINGLE TIME I engage in a social media war, I feel darkness. Like, I’ve utterly failed in my ability to grow as a human being. Aside from the fact that I feel like I lose IQ points when I participate in this childish behavior.
I don’t get it. I’m from the back east. And, I was also raised by 2nd generation Italians.
I was always raised to believe that if I am hurt or frustrated by a person’s behavior, confronting them face to face is the most healthy way to resolve it. Or, you can agree to not agree. And respectfully go your separate ways. But, at least you’ve handled it.
But again, I know people who feel empowered by social media wars. I think they are pussies. People who are too afraid to confront a person, and would rather strike out, whilst hiding behind their computer screens. Grow a pair!
So, what’s the solution to the fascination and addiction we all have with social media?
I honestly can’t give you a solution. We are all drawn to it for different reason. To promote our businesses. To validate ourselves. To be seen. To criticize and rip other people to shreds. To simply pass time. To live vicariously through others.
Social media isn’t something I plan on abstaining from. It is  something that I’m learning to put into perspective.
When I’m hanging with family and friends, keeping my phone in my pocket and being present for them…that is a start.
Continuing to share my experience, strength, and hope with addicts and alcoholics  who have less clean time than I have, helps.
Am I going to stop posting gratuitous selfies. Probably not!
I’m not that spiritually fit yet, either!
Let’s face it. Social media is here to stay. It can be a brilliant tool to promote yourself and inspire others. Or, it can be grossly thrown out of balance and consume a person’s life.
I hope I didn’t ruffle anyones feathers, considering I am posting this piece to my social media. HAHAHHAHA..
And If I did, that certainly wasn’t my intention. This is my experience. And whats mine isn’t necessarily yours.
Life is short people. And this isn’t a rehearsal. Live every moment like its your last.

Crash…The Journey Never Ends

2016 started for me with a BANG!
Well, more like a crash.
On January 11th, I was taken to the ER, for some flank pain and trouble breathing. I was convinced it was an anxiety attack. Anxiety is something I have struggled with for years. However, In 2011 I suffered from bi lateral pulmonary emboli. Since then, any medical issue regarding my breathing must to be taken seriously. So, I went to the ER. They ran X-rays of my chest and a CT scan of my lungs. The doctor came back with the results. “You are clot free. However, your liver is swollen. Have you been excessively drinking?”, he asked. “My liver?! I don’t drink at all!!”, I replied defensively. The doctor responded, “Well, what are you taking that could be making your liver swell?” I immediately blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Anabolic steroids??” The doctor peered at me through his glasses, “Yep. That would do it. How long have you been on your cycle?”

How long have I been on my cycle? Excellent question! That is where this story begins. For those of you not familiar with steroid use, the average steroid cycle should last no longer than 12 weeks. Then you take 6 weeks off. The reason you go “off cycle”, is to allow your system..the pituitary glands..the adrenal glands..basically, your entire endocrine system, to function normally again. And I was all for that. I had every intention of taking a break once 12 weeks rolled around. But, time waits for no one. And once that 12 weeks did come, I found myself full of wonderful excuses as to why I needed to continue a few weeks longer. I was busy! I had work. Bookings. Shoots. Appearances. I told myself that I just needed a few extra weeks to get all these shoots done, and then I would “cycle off” the steroids.
My steroid cycle officially began December 2013. It started with Testosterone Cypionate. Just some extra testosterone to give me that extra edge at the gym. But as my work load increased. So did my mental obsession with cultivating the ‘perfect body’. I wanted more bulk. Naturally, I added some DecaDurabolin to my regiment. But, after a few weeks of that, I noticed I was getting too thick. So, that’s when I decided to add the most sought after ‘gay steroid”, Trenbolone. Trenbolone, for those of you who don’t know, is a steroid that was originally used on livestock to increase muscle growth before they are slaughtered. But, we gay men love it because to adds bulking AND cutting to the body. One of the only anabolics to give you both. So, there I was. Going from 1 to 3 injectables in the blink of an eye. That was a perfect combination! Until I heard that there was an oral steroid called Anavar, that really gave anyone who was taking Testosterone, the most benefits. Well, how could I refuse? And before I even knew it, I had become a walking science project. I used to joke to people who knew about my steroid use, and say that I was the “hormone whisperer” Yeah. Those hormones were doing a lot more than whispering!
But, it seemed like everything was working out gloriously. I was still working a ton. I looked amazing. And I just kept going. That’s the way it always starts out, right? Everything is amazing. Until its not. Then, the very thing that seemed so amazing, started to turn on me. It took awhile. Over a year passed. I was still on my “12 week cycle”. And I started to get back acne. The acne was annoying. And then it got really bad. It wasn’t just the acne. It was the marks the acne was leaving on my back. I was starting to get nervous. But, it never occurred to me to just stop. I tried to control it. Dermatologist visits. Anti bacterial pills to battle the oils from the steroids. Salicylic acid treatments. You name it. I did it. I did everything a person could do…except stop. And more time passed…and I still hadn’t gone “off cycle”. So now, we’re looking at me in January 2016…2 years have passed..And I’m in the ER of the hospital with a swollen liver, wondering what the hell has happened. Sure. My 12 week cycle ended up lasting over 100 weeks. But who was counting?!
My liver was. Thankfully.
Had my liver not blown up, I would have most likely continued my cycle til I suffered renal failure. That’s what my endocrinologist says was next on the list for me.
So, I stopped. I quit the moment I left the ER. 3 injectables. 1 oral. All gone. And yes. my body crashed. Hard. I slept over 12 hours a day. I felt weak. I had no energy. I was morbidly depressed. And I cried. Not from physical pain. But, from the knowledge that my broken thinking had, once again, taken me back to another dark place in my life.
My broken thinking tells me that steroids are gonna make me whole. Make my life perfect. That even though studies have proven that performance enhancing steroids are dangerous, I’m going to be an exception to the rule. For people like me. Addicts. Just because I stop using dope and alcohol, doesn’t mean that my broken thinking stops as well. This is not a story for people who exclusively used steroids. This is a story for anyone who excessively uses anything that they believe will fix them.
But speaking along the lines of steroids, I would like to emphasize something here…there is no one in the porn industry who tells performers it is mandatory to take steroids. Do many performers use steroids? Yes. That is a given. There is pressure to have an extraordinary body. But this goes a lot further than my industry. Steroids are an unspoken “secret” amongst many gay men. And for those of you who manage to use steroids successfully…Mazel, to you! That simply is not my story.
Trust me. This is not the first essay of 2016 that I would like to be sharing with my friends, fans, and followers. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Raw. All of it. But this is my truth. And maybe, just maybe..there will be someone else out there who is reading this, who can relate. And hopefully, they won’t feel so alone.
I crashed. Hit the floor. I learned. I grow. And my journey continues.

Here is a selfie taken last night. My natural body!


‘Tis The Season

The Holidays are upon us. And though traditionally this is supposed to be a time of reflection, gratitude, connecting with family, friends, and loved ones..I find myself being swept away in a sea of resentment, anxiety, and financial stress.

Our culture perpetuates this idea each Holiday season, that shiny new toys and outdoing ourselves from years past, should be our primary purpose.
With that deluded notion in mind,I forge ahead. Arguing with my boyfriend over nonsense, resenting my Ma for being the same person she’s been for over 70 years, and my friends: How dare they want to spend tome with me during this festive season. Can’t they see I’m busy?!???
Basically, I’ve found myself behaving like a crabby douchebag.
Its so easy for me to forget how many blessing are sitting right underneath my nose.
For instance:
My Ma. Sure,there are times when she wants to punch me in the throat. And yes, I want her to mind her own God damn business, and quit meddling in mine.
But, really…underneath that surface bullshit. There is a history between the two of us, like nothing I’ve ever shared with another human being, in this life. So much love, loyalty, forgiveness, honor, respect, and downright crazy fun, that I have shared with this amazing woman, over the last 41 years.
So, perhaps instead of allowing the little things that grate my nerves, get to me..and corrode my Spirit. I can take a few moments every day to reflect on how, every day of my childhood, this woman consistently made sure that I felt loved and cared for. And, I can look at her today…and smile in the knowledge that our relationship lis greater today, than it has been in the last 20 years.
So, being present with my Ma. Honoring her, this Holiday season, for all the love she’s given me. That is the true spirit of the Holdiays.
My boyfriend and I don’t see eye to eye on everything in our relationship. And my ego expects EVERYONE TO BE ENTITLED TO MY OPINION!!
But maybe, instead of jumping to conclusions about Reese’ motives in any given situation, (contempt prior to investigation) I can feel safe in the knowledge that Reese has NEVER once given me the inclination that he would ever go out of his way to hurt me. He shows up for me, listens to me (even when I’m speaking like a moron) and makes sure, every single day that he lets me know he cares for me. Not by saying it, but by showing it. If that’s not a Holiday blessing…what the fuck is??! Reciprocating that love. From the simplest thing, like rubbing his arm and back (which he loves) or giving him attention, void of my selfish wants. That is what this Holiday season is about.
I find myself wishing I had more friends. But, the truth is…The friends I have are nothing less than amazing. They are loyal. They tell me the truth about myself, even if I don’t want to hear it. They don’t judge me. I might not have a slew of different friends to jump around to, but I do have friendships that are built on mutual respect and love. So, taking time to honor my friends, during this paramount. Because it wasn’t so long ago, that these were the very friends who believed in my when I was newly sober, and didn’t believe in myself.
However, my ego is dangerous. It’s corrupt. And when its in full effect,  I will come up with excuses as to why I can’t do lunch or dinner with someone that is a true friend. That’s crap! Relationships take time and they are an investment. And if the people in my life are good (which they are) they are worthy of me taking time to spend with them.
Outside of the people in my inner circle, there are many other ways I find to overcome the malady of my spirit.
Meditation, every morning is a must. Just 15 min to be silent and still. Of course, writing for me is necessary. Sharing my discoveries, challenges, and solutions with the world keeps me accountable. And, hopefully helps another person who might be struggling with similar challenges.
Little things get me out of my anxiety and negative thinking as well. For instance, when I’m at the gym, my natural inclination is to put my headphones on and avoid eye contact with strangers. Not cuz I’m trying to be a dick, but because I’m naturally shy. So now, I always try to look people in the eye,and smile…a genuine smile.
The power of a genuine smile is quite moving. especially to a stranger, who might be having a rough day, during this holiday season, as well.
I am constantly reminding myself: We are all facing challenges. Especially at this time of year. And many, are facing difficulties, far worse than my little issues.
So, the basic law: Treat others as I would like to be treated, applies!
I take time out as often as possible to remember every person who, throughout my life, has ever shown me kindness, compassion, and love. And, I try to reflect the love I have been so freely given, onto others.
For me, that’s what the Holidays are really about.
Not the gifts we give, and how much we spend on them.
But, the love we give to the people that matter. And the time we allow ourselves to give to them.


Ever since I was a boy, I’ve been drawn to ritualism. More specifically, the rituals of the old rites.
I’m not exactly sure where it comes from, because my parents were both raised in strict Italian Catholic homes. However, anything with depictions of moon, fire, ocean, crystals, candles, and mysticism; make my spirit soar.
I don’t personally feel any allegiance to the Catholic church. Nor, do I judge anyone who does. It’s simply not relatable to me.

When I envision ritualism, I see moonbeams, shining down upon woman, dancing in silver waterfalls. Thick layers of incense burning, as men cloaked in mystery, rise from citadels…running through a forest, hunting the King stag for his antlers. Then, returning from the hunt, to make love to a virgin Priestess…celebrating the Beltane fires. (the birth of Spring)

Ritualizing Spirit and sexuality makes perfect sense to me. As they are both God given.

I never understood why the Catholic church circumcised sexuality from their religion; and turned sex into such a taboo.
Women had to either choose to align themselves with the Virgin Mary: pure, chaste, and holy. Or, the Mary Magdalene: wicked, condemned, a whore.
I always saw the sexuality in the Virgin Mary..and the deep spirituality in Mary Magdalene.

And long before them..there were the pagan rituals…which often took nature elements: earth, air, fire, water..and incorporated the human body; movement and sexuality.

When I was approached by Paul Van Vleck, my very favorite location photographer. And he asked me if I wanted to so some nature photos, I told him: “I’ve been shooting porn pictures for almost 14 years. So, If I’m going to take the time to do a photo shoot, I’d like it to be a reflection of something that interests me.” In this case, it was the Old Religion. The celebration of spirituality and sexuality.

I realize that this can be a touchy subject for many people..So, my hope is that despite whatever religious or spiritual practice you align yourself with. You will see the beauty in this pictorial. And maybe even feel connected.





In Darkness…I Found My Light


In Darkness…I Found My Light

The most common question I receive: How did you get sober?
I’d like to be able to tell you, I made a decision, one day, to get sober…and it just stuck. But, that’s not my story. I was a chronic relapser. One of the ‘hopeless variety’, as some would say.
In my addiction, I was not the type of addict who took “Molly” and did bumps of coke, at circuit parties. I shot dope and smoked crack cocaine. I didn’t use drugs to “party”. I used to drugs to die.

I don’t think I ever got past the pain of my childhood. Growing up with an abusive father who never loved me. The scars of my childhood, burned and emulsified within me, like lava, eating away at my impressionable soul. To the point where I didn’t feel worthy of anything more than the pain, suffering, and demoralization that addiction offered me.
I did dope every single day. To numb the pain. And, to slowly die.

There were half hearted attempts at sobriety, many times. Starting at 19 years old. But, I never addressed the emotional pain, in order to change my belief system. . At my core, I believed I was unloveable. I believed I would always be abandoned, if I tried to love a man. I told myself that if you really knew who I was…a monster. You would run from me. And, that’s exactly what I became. A monster. A liar. A junkie, who stole from his own mother. An unloveable, self destructive human being.

I would like to tell you that a ’near death experience’, was what got me sober. But, that wouldn’t be the truth, either. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense as to why being ‘near death’, could never perpetuate my desire to get sober. How can a person make the decision to live, when all he feels worthy of, is death?
And so it was…In 2005 I suffered a type 2 respiratory failure, from a combination of crack cocaine and shooting heroin. The doctors in ICU explained to me that it was the heroin which caused high levels of carbon dioxide in my lungs, which inevitably stopped my breathing. I remember, right before I lost consciousness, begging the junkie I was with not to call 911, cuz I was already starting to lose my peripheral vision, and feel shortness of breath. When I passed out, she immediately called 911 and pretty much saved my pathetic life. I was rushed to the hospital and treated with (IMV), invasive mechanical ventilation. A tube with a ballon at the end of it was shoved inside my mouth, down my throat, and inflated to allow air back into my lungs again. I spent several days in ICU, while they ran tests, treated me with IV sodium chloride, for my chronic dehydration. A cardiologist took a sonogram of my heart to see if there was damage to the muscle from the crack cocaine. I remember him telling me in a very matter of fact tone: “The blood vessels around your heart muscle are constricted from the crack abuse, but the actual heart muscle is not damaged…yet. Thankfully, because you’re 31 years old, and aside from the fact that you’re a drug’re in reasonably good health. But, you need to know that your heart is not going to be able to withstand the amount of crack you smoke daily. Crack cocaine will stop your heart. I can’t tell you when, but you will be taking a hit, and you will experience chest pain, beyond that of which I can describe. And death will not happen right away, like it does with heroin addicts who OD, and simply lose consciousness, as their organs shut down. It will be slow, and incredibly painful. 90% of crack overdoses, are fatal. So, you need to live knowing that.”

I broke down and cried. I shook with terror, and pain. I knew that crack was going to kill me, if I didn’t stop using it. And, I didn’t want to die anymore..I just didn’t know how to live.

I left the hospital several days later, resigned to never use drugs or drink again. 11 days later, I was smoking crack. I had surrendered the power of choice, to dope. Living with the knowledge that I was risking my own life. And knowing that smoking crack could kill me at any moment, wasn’t enough to stop me. As addicts, we generally need to lose something, or be faced with losing something (our jobs, our lives, our freedom, our loved ones, our homes) to really want to get sober for good. Losing my own life wasn’t enough get me sober. Losing something that carried far more depth and weight had to happen, for me to approach sobriety with the desperation of a drowning man.

On December 17th of 2007, I made another attempt to get sober again. What got me sober this time? Sheer misery, I had no friends. Because I was incapable of being a friend to anyone or anything..other than my dope. My Ma had to keep a healthy distance from me. It was too heartbreaking for her to watch me killing myself. I had no relationship. How could I be a partner to anyone? I was married to my dope. My apartment had become a tomb, which I never left.

I wanted to try life again. I wasn’t convinced I was done with dope. But, I was determined to try. So, I went to some AA meetings. And, I did as they instructed me to do. I Got a sponsor. And, I continued coming back to AA meetings. Several months into my sobriety, I began doing a workshop that took me through the 12 steps. We covered all 12 steps over the course of 22 weeks, The woman who led the workshop, translated the steps to me in such a way, it would forever change my heart. After the workshop ended, I asked her to sponsor me. And she did. She gave me insight to the steps that I could recognize and apply to my life. Before her, the steps were always this cryptic code that I could never seem to wrap myself around. And, I continued to grow in my sobriety. But, the pain of childhood, though addressed in my step work… still gnawed at my heart. My sponsor suggested I seek outside help. Therapy. I declined. A mistake, on my part. But, looking back now. I see that I just wasn’t ready to address those core issues. I continued attending meeting, doing step work, and I even began sponsoring people.

Shortly after I celebrated 2 years sober, I met a man. He was like no other man I had met in my life. His name was Tony. Tony was this guy that I used to stare at longingly at the gym. For years. I never approached him. He was so beautiful and carried himself so well, I was terribly intimidated by him. Every time we were in the gym together, I would watch him from the corner of my eye. Stealing secret glances at him. Like a puppy dog. He was Italian, soft brown eyes, dark hair, sculpted body. His voice was deep..yet soft.
Strangely, he messaged me on Facebook, out of the blue. He asked me why I always stared at him, but never spoke to him. I told him honestly that I was too intimidated. He told me to get over it and said, “So..are you gonna ask me out??” And, that was our beginning. Tony calling the shots. And me chasing. Happily chasing. I would sometimes, over the course of our 2 1/2 year relationship, be reduced to a bumbling idiot when I was with him. Tony just had that effect on me. The only man to this day, to ever take my breath away. Tony knew how much I adored him. And, he loved the attention. And I loved giving it to him. But, still. There was that gnawing pain in my soul. Unresolved trauma, no matter how old it is…when it is not dealt with properly…trauma does not go away. It manifests in other areas of our lives. And though I loved Tony…loved him more than anything in this world. I was still fragmented by the abandonment and abuse from my father. I tried to escape it by being a more attentive boyfriend and a better sponsor to my sponsees That didn’t work. And, as my relationship with Tony grew. I began to make it a bigger priority than my sobriety. And, unfortunately…as I have learned through experience…anything that I value more than my sobriety, I will lose. I deluded myself into believing that if Tony loved me enough, the pain from my father would resolve itself. And when Tony and I began experiencing challenges in our relationship, I fell apart. It wasn’t even the issues with he and I. It was the unresolved issues I had with my father, which I displaced onto my relationship, that caused me to unravel. And with 4 years and 4 months sober… I relapsed again, on dope.

And though Tony wanted to work things out. I was already long gone. Back to my deadly love affair with dope.
I wanted desperately to be back with the man I loved again. But, its true when they say relapse isn’t progressive. You are literally right back where you left off in your addiction. And that was the case for me. Isolated. Phone turned off. Locked in my apartment with my dope.
I would look at photos of Tony and I and I would cry, I believed I would find a way to get sober again. I told myself Tony and I would reunite, and we would be better. I would be better.
But, time waits for no one. 9 months after I relapsed. And, Tony and I broke up. Tony took his life. At 45 years old, my baby was dead.
I remember being strung out, receiving the phone call that Tony was gone. And I remember, feeling a part of me dying. My baby is gone. My baby is gone!
And the guilt. And the shame. And the remorse. That I had chosen my addiction over my lover, flooded through my veins. Like a sea of mercury. It devoured me. I was inconsolable.
And I fell into a mushroom cloud of dope. I would occasionally catch glimpses of myself in the mirror. Face gaunt. Unshowered. Bruises all over my arms. Blisters on my lips. Skin burnt off my fingers from crack pipes. I weighed less than 175 lbs. That is 40 lbs under my weight today. I would see my reflection, and I would cry. I would think of my deceased ex, and I would cry. I would think about all of the friendships I had made in the 4+ years I had been sober…now gone. And I would cry.
I was gone. Hopeless. Lost. Never coming back.

I remember looking at the beautiful magazine covers and layouts I had taken over the years, and think to myself: You will never take another beautiful picture again. You are done. I remember looking at all the beautiful cards Tony had written me over the 2 1/2 years we had been together and seeing the photographs of us over the years, and thinking to myself: You will never experience love with another man again. That part of your life is over. I tried to write about what was going on with me. But, I was blocked. There was so much pain inside my heart, that needed to be released. But, dope was the great dam, keeping my feelings from surfacing. And, I remember thinking to myself: You will never write another piece that will bare any meaning to you, or another human being.
It was a deep and dark corroding thread, woven through my very existence:
You will never. You will never. You will never…

Something happened less than 6 months after Tonys suicide. I had been awake, on a multiple day binge..smoking crack. And when I finally lost consciousness, and fell asleep; I fell into dreams… Tony came to me. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. But he was crying. Trying to reach out to me. But he couldn’t reach me. Seeing the look of sorrow on his face. Knowing that even in death, he wasn’t at peace. Seeing me killing myself on dope…. That dream was so vivid, and so haunting. I awoke the next morning. And without thinking, I destroyed all of my drug paraphernalia, flushed the remainder of my dope. Packed an overnight bag full of clothes. And went to my Ma’s house. Without telling her in so many words, (she already knew) that I needed to detox in a safe place, I asked if I could stay with her for a little while. She hugged me and let me cry. I shook in her arms. The pain of losing Tony…Of our love, forever lost. Shook me. To the core. I collapsed in my mothers arms like a child. She set me in her spare bedroom. After 8 days of sleeping and eating, crying, and grieving… I made my way back to my first AA meeting. I immediately grabbed someone with over 5 years sober, after that first AA meeting. I asked him if he would have coffee with me. At coffee, I told him everything that had happened since my last relapse. About Tony’s suicide. My unresolved issues with my father. The dream that I had about Tony. And, that I desperately wanted to be sober. And for the first time in my life.. I did. I wanted to be sober, more than I wanted anything else in this world. This man asked me if was willing to do anything he asked of me to stay sober. I said Yes. And, he offered to sponsor me. He referred me to a cognitive therapist who specialized in grief. She helped me immensely. I felt safe communicating to her my most irrational, painful feelings. First, surrounding my father, Second, surround Tony’s suicide.
My sponsor And I began working the steps. First, On Tony’s suicide. Then, on dope and alcohol. I continued attending 5 AA meetings a week.
Slowly, I started to feel a little bit better. No longer feeling like I was completely broken…Just bent.
At around 90 days sober, I came back to the industry that had been a part of my life for nearly a decade. I realized that I had already saturated porn, several times, over the course of 9 years. I was prepared to not succeed. But, I tried. I went to the gym, working out relentlessly. And I took some new photographs and sent them out to studios that I had first worked for, over a decade ago. People in recovery were telling me I couldn’t possibly go back to the porn industry with such little sober time, and maintain my sobriety. But, something in me had shifted.
That voice. That overbearing voice in my mind that had told me for so many years: “I will never. I will never. I will never..”
It was gone.
And it was replaced by an even more compelling voice, inside of me which said, “Yes, I can.”
I was welcomed back to the adult industry. Bigger and more popular, than I had ever been before. Old fans were happy to see me return. And I also connected with an entirely new fan base, as well.
I started writing again. About my truth. About addiction. About love found. And love lost. I began counting my sober days on social media. And my connection with my followers grew into something bigger than just a typical porn star. Some of these followers became dear friends to me. Through the writing we connected through similar circumstances…loss, pain, self doubt, body dysmorphia, addiction. And, some of these followers became more than friends. They became Family.
And though my career had re-invented itself in the industry, I had reservations about forming relationships with other industry people. I’m not the type of guy who likes to get caught up in the industry “Frienemy”, bullshit. So, I made a decision to keep my business, as business. And form friendships outside the industry. Despite my reservations, I found myself connecting with someone else in the industry. At first, it was a work thing. Where we could connect on set. Great conversation. But then, go our own ways. She is a director. Yes, that is not a typo… I said SHE. And over the last 18 months, she has become my confidant. The sister I never had. And my best friend. I laugh, trying to explain to people, that in an industry dominated by men, and with whom all the performers are men…The only person I trust with my life, is a woman. And any man I date already knows, off the bat that she and I are absolutely married. smile emoticon

Since I’ve returned to the industry, I have worked for almost every major studio again. And, I was inducted into the Grabby Wall of Fame. I have traveled the country many times. And I have continued working my steps, writing my experiences, and living my life again.

Don’t get me wrong. My Life hasn’t been a “pink cloud”, since I got sober. There are days that I will smell Tony’s cologne at a department store, or hear a song, or see a sunset he would have marveled at…and I’m reduced to tears. There are days that I’m chasing my tail, like a mad person. Screaming and fighting the flow of the Universe. But, no matter how good or bad my day is…I don’t drink or use matter what.

And yes, I will take another beautiful picture again. And yes, I will write another piece that is honest and resonates with others. And yes, I will love again.

In November of this year, God willing…I will celebrate 2 years of consecutive sobriety.

And so…Hope Springs Eternal.
I try to make my life a living testament to that notion.
Its important for me to remember that not all of us make it. My Tony didn’t. So, I try to live every day, making choices that he would be proud of. Tony never gave shit about what I did for work. He just wanted me to be sober, surround myself with good people, and write.

No matter how badly your life may currently seem. Even, facing death, loss, and tragedy. It doesn’t mean its over. It’s never over until you stop breathing.
If you believe in yourself. Get honest. Face your demons. Work your ass off. Anything is possible.

I believed in myself.

I believe in you, too.

All my love


Color Blind

Color Blind

I was recently talking to my friend Allen about relationships. Allen has this amazing ability to peg a guy as a match for me; or an utter mistake. He said something that really struck me, though.
“I’m always right on the mark with you. So, why is it that when it comes to my own love life, I’m utterly blind?”
That got me to thinking. I recently wrote a piece titled, “Size Matters”. Based primarily around core relationship ideals. How important it is to identify what we need in our relationships, to feel safe. To be happy. So, why is it that that knowing what my needs are, I’m willing to overlook these things for “the illusions”??
American culture has driven home this ideal that we need to have a ‘happily ever after’ in order to be complete and fulfilled. And, I have found myself driven by the obsession to date guys that are metaphorically, ‘the perfect package’ to achieve this ideal of ‘happily ever after’, Guys with whom I have absolutely nothing in common with, beyond good looks.
So, who is Prince Charming…to you?
Does he really need to have the perfect body? Or, that girthy cock and bubble butt?
Sure. Good looks get you in the door.
But, that’s not gonna get you through the long haul. Not with me, anyways.
If I don’t have a soul connection. The signs are going to be abundantly clear.
I realize this is a really simple concept to say out loud. My Ma was preaching it to me since I was a boy. “It’s a person’s heart. Not their looks!:” But, lets face it. We are all attracted to pretty things. And I have been no exception.
I admittedly dated guys who I found to be gorgeous. And when we didn’t click. When the signs were glaring blatantly, that things weren’t working. I was determined to paint those “red flags”, green.
That’s kinda like trying to take a gorgeous car with a burnt out engine, on a long distance vacation. What’s gonna happen when you get out on the freeway? Signs are gonna start flashing: Check engine! Check oil!
Just like when you start dating that gorgeous guy, and things are clearly not working. There’s a little lying. Maybe a little misconduct. But you’re so fixated with getting to ‘happily ever after’, you completely overlook the signs.
So, you continue going down the freeway in this gorgeous car, with the burnt out engine; ignoring all the flashing signs…And, before you know it, you are pulled over on the side of the road. And the vacation is over with, before it’s even begun.
And those were my relationships. Over with…before they’d even begun.
I needed to get honest with myself. My motives. And, with the dynamics of my relationships. Cuz I already know exactly which “type” of guy works for me in a dating situation. And, I know the ’type’ who doesn’t. But, I am easily blinded by beautiful men. And, I have this brilliant ability to take red flags from a partner, and paint them green.
I write for freedom. Not to look cool. So, I’ll admit this, openly:
I am blinded my men that look amazing next to me. Or, a guy who makes my toes curl when we fuck.
But, how the hell are amazing orgasms and pretty selfies going to give me a lasting, healthy relationship??
Have you ever been blinded by physical appearances in a guy? Or, the pretty things he buys you? Or, the way he pounds you out with his hot cock? Or, the idea of the two of you in your perfect wedding photo? Even when there are problems coming up from the beginning, that clearly show you he’s not the one?
If you’re spending more time trying to paint red flags, green…Trying to excuse behavior that is making your heart sick..
There’s a problem.
But, there’s also a solution.
Getting past physicalities…what qualities in a guy, leave you breathless?
I love a man who is passionate about his beliefs. I love a man who is driven and intelligent. I really love men who don’t crave limelight. Because I kinda do. So, it balances me to be with someone who isn’t a public figure. I love playfulness. Affection. A man who isn’t afraid to tell me I’m acting a fool. I respect that.
So, I gotta start paying closer attention to the things that really turn me on…about his soul.
And its important to remember:
Take a look at what’s really happening in the relationship. Not what you want to be happening.
Don’t be color blind…like me.
I find myself saying this in almost every piece I write:
This is not a rehearsal. This is life. And, it’s passing us all really quickly.
I’ve wasted too much time dating the illusion.
Maybe I didn’t think I was worthy of anyone with substance. And, I was acting with shallow motives, so that’s all I was getting. Today, I’m ready for a guy who comes to me with green flags. And see where that takes me.
It’s taken a while to discover that I’m worth it. But, I believe that I am.
And, if you can relate to any of this…I suspect that if you take a look at how special you are….you’ll probably see that you’re worth it, too!


 never was much of a size queen. Until recently. So, what happened?
It all started with the sex ideal.
Now for those of you who aren’t familiar with the sex ideal…The sex ideal is not written exclusively about our sex conduct. Its about our conduct in our relationships.
This is what a thorough sex ideal consists of:
What kind of a partner do I want to grow to become in an ideal relationship?
What do I need from my partner, to feel safe and loved, in my relationship?
That is serious stuff, we’re getting into. So, its obviously paramount to write ideals that are realistic, and attainable.
My ideal tells me that my #1 need from my partner:
To feel nurtured and loved.
Given my history. That’s not a huge surprise. I grew up with an abusive father who never loved me.
So, here’s the story:
At the time that I wrote my sex ideal, I was dating a really sweet guy, who lived in another city.
Though, the distance between us was only 120 miles. This was my first out-of-city relationship.
And 120 miles is quite a bit, for a guy like me.
Ideally, I like to hang with my guy 2-3 times a week as we are dating and getting to know one another. As the relationship evolves into something more serious, I like to see him more often.
But, because my boyfriend worked 40 hr/weekly and rarely got 2 days off in a row. We were seeing one another several times a month.
I could navigate that. However, I had to acknowledge that because he and I didn’t get to see one another as regularly as “same city” couples did. Staying connected via text, phone call, FaceTime, etc was important to me.
So, I put that out to him.
I told him, “It really makes my day to receive a text from you. And it helps bridge the gap between us, in proximity.”
I asked if texting one another to stay connected, was something he was cool with. “Of course”, he told me.
But, as time progressed. As I became more invested in the relationship.I noticed that almost every text that I received from him, was simply a response to texts that I had initiated.
I also noticed that I was having to make all of our plans.
Figuring out what days he had off. If I was coming to him. Etc.
He never offered to make those plans.
But, he would oblige when I asked. Sometimes, happily.
Sometimes, not. “I only get 2 days off a week. And, one of those days has to be for groceries and errands. So, my only other day off is spent traveling to see you.”
That stung. It made me feel like a chore. I began to feel sad.
This is a good place to pause.
People! Relationships are not all about a honeymoon. They are work. And, if one of you is happy to do the work. And, one of you is trudging through the work.
There’s a big problem.
And, if nothing changes….nothing changes.
It was painful for me to need to ask my boyfriend if he wouldn’t mind initiating a “Good morning” text, once in awhile. It was even more painful when he said “Sure”. And a week later, it ceased.
It was painful when I would text him and he wouldn’t respond at all. And, I felt like an idiot when excuses came in like, “I got distracted by other things.”
Another good place to pause, and ask this question:
Why do we ignore pain in a relationship? Even when it’s blatantly compromising our ideals? Diminishing our Light? Reducing our self worth?
This is the simple truth:
Constant pain in a relationship, is the warning that something is wrong.
And, I’m not saying he was wrong.
Just wrong for me.
There are plenty of “low maintenance” boyfriends out there, who don’t care if they receive a “Good morning,’ text form their partner.
There are also plenty of guys who don’t mind being the one who makes all the plans in the relationship.
And, there are plenty of men who love being the one who is constantly in pursuit of their partner.
But, I aint that guy!
I love being in pursuit of a man I am attracted to and have feelings for. And I don’t require it to be 50/50. But, I need to be pursued, as well.
My ideal tells me that at my core; I need a man who is demonstrative with his love. Especially, when we’re living over 100 miles away from one another.
But, I stayed with him. I grew depressed. And, often times..I felt pathetic for staying.
I lied to myself, over and over again.
I told myself, if I hold on. Maybe, he’ll come around.
You know that bullshit we tell ourselves?
“If I love you more..maybe you’ll love me a little.”
As I write this, I can’t believe my own behavior.
So Sick.
As an addict in recovery, I still require something with depth and weight to really knock some sense into me. For me to see things for what they really are. Not for what I’d like them to be.
By nature, I am blinded by:
As are all addicts.
And, so the Universe did for me, what I couldn’t do for myself.
LA Pride.
My boyfriend decided to go to Pride without me. He invited an out-of-state friend to hang with him.
I asked if I could join them. He told me he wanted it to be a “buddy” weekend.
I told him that Pride was a big deal to me. I also indicated that it hurt to be left out of what would have been our first Pride together. He told me, “You never conveyed that to me. So, how would I have known that?”
I blurted out, “You never asked.”
I was hurt. I immediately made work plans for myself in NYC, over LA Pride weekend. Just so I would be kept busy, and not need to sit home, focusing on the reality of the situation.
I did say to my boyfriend, the day before I left for NYC. “Can you please send me a text? Just a single text, once a day. I feel insecure with your being at LA Pride without me.”
“Of course I will.”, he assured me.
Thursday. Day before Pride weekend began, I received a sweet text from him.
Friday. Nothing.
Saturday. Nothing,
By Saturday evening, I was wrecked. I was trying so hard to focus on work in NYC. But, the hurt bled through. I cried.
We don’t admit it to ourselves, when it’s happening.
But, if you grew up, and were traumatized by abandonment.
The second you relive it. That little hurt child comes out in us all.
And I broke down. Sending him several texts, followed by a phone call.
Hours later. Literally 12am EST time. He called and apologized. He told me, “I’m sorry. It was 100% my fault. I got caught up.”
Gentlemen…and ladies.
If your man (or woman) is too “caught up” in Pride parties for 2 days, to give you a call or text…
And, If your ideal tells you that love and nurturing are your core needs..
It’s time to turn the fucking page.
If you tell your partner you’re falling in love with him (or her) and he replies, “I don’t know what to say.”
It’s time to bounce.
I can’t love you enough to make you love me a little.
I can’t suck you off enough times, to hold your interest. If it’s not there.
And, I’m not going to waste another moment of my life trying to…ever again.
My ideal tells me that I need love to be expressed to me in words and actions.
Because, I can be accountable to do the same, in return.
And, maybe your ideal tells you that your core need to feel loved is:
Financial support and safety
Independence and very little intimacy.
Sex, sex, and more sex
Sensitivity and compassion.
Whatever your ideals are. They do exist. So, identifying them is completely necessary in order to experience happiness and harmony in your  relationship.
And, equally as necessary:
Identifying when your ideals aren’t being met.
Becoming willing to walk away from something that isn’t healthy. Even when your heart is begging you to stay.
I left him. Maybe, A little late. But, better late than never.
I find myself saying this more and more often:
This is not a rehearsal.
This is life.
And life is short lived.
And, I fought too hard for my sobriety to be miserable in my relationship.
I am so thankful for this sex ideal.
I learned from it, that I need a man with a HUGE heart.
Because, I have a HUGE heart.
So, yes. When it comes to love…
Size matters!

Goodbye, Baby

Navigating Porn and the Malady

The blog of Adult Video Star Nick Capra