Chronicles of Dustin Ashley Beam

I am not sure how to begin other than to write that the past week has been all over the emotional spectrum. No, nothing horrible or amazing transpired. I just... STOPPED. Late last weekend and early this week, I was not in the best of sorts. I try to not use this tool as a venting mechanism for something about that seems "wrong" to me. (I rarely use that word, but since it is referring to myself I think I shall and find it applicable.) I merely share this because something changed, something halted, something arose. I am making some dramatic changes in my life and how I live it, how I occupy my time, and how I sort my priorities. It is not as if I have performed some heinous act, but I have vacillated between empowerment and depression for far too long. It is funny... I was talking with a dear friend of mine about this blog and how writing it has helped and given back to me, a feeling that I cannot explain to others, it just is an entity all its own that I feel as though

Sometimes you just feel like you have been leaped upon by a nefarious Sumo wrestler named Neville who forgot to shower. Ah, the beast that is change. Necessary but sometimes painful and disorienting. I am bound and determined to turn this beast into a prince with my magic. :-) Dustin

Oh the past couple of nights I eagerly climbed aboard the Tipsy Express with stops in Mojito Mountain, Vodka Valley, Giggle Falls, and Nerts Landing in anticipation of the elation and exultation of Inebriation Station. NOTES OF INTEREST whilst traveling in the Express: Jeremy played a game (the incomparable Nerts) with no coercion. I played Harry Potter Clue and won. (The second thought could have been parenthetical, but I thought I would share. Ha.) Has anyone ever noticed that the words "Hola" and "Aloha" are reciprocals of one another (with the exception of the "a")? Somehow, I think there is a greeting conspiracy just looming in the horizon in the world of salutations. Be well poppets. It has been a while since I have mentioned dental hygiene: Do remember to floss! Dustin

I have been in the throng of wordless days, passing me by, allowing me to pause, gather, and rest. Soon it will be all be a blur... Moving to a new dwelling (Oh how I will miss the Clarks)... Diving into a new show (Being a silly cowboy -- let's think Woody)... Online classes (so much more work than attending an "in person" class)... And writing, writing, and more writing... (Did I mention the art of... uhh, writing?) I have become an EPIC SLEEPER. I guess it might be time to abandon the bed (and "Battlestar Galactica" and "Batman: The Animated Series) for the real world. I begrudgingly do so. I am the artist of sleep, I really am. So far, 2009 is interesting, unlike any other year. It's energy is perplexing... I shall grasp it soon and study it in my collection of the years. :-) I just wanted to jot down a few ideas and thrust them into cyberspace to frolic in the world of blog and internet-dom. Much love, Dustin

Every once a while you stumble (or in this case a dear friend named Matteo Tatteo informs you) upon a talent that speaks to you. Jay Brannan, the youtube wonder. Refreshing. Simple. Raw. Blessed. Strangely familiar. Go to youtube and type in his name and take a listen. He is a singer/songwriter that performs many of his songs from his NYC apartment. I enjoy that he just sits there (most of the time shirtless due to his apartment being too warm) and performs. It is just so damn pleasing to the heart and the ear. His voice is pleasant, honest, and his lyrics are at times thought provoking, fun, and charming. I appreciate that he is an out gay man that is writing stories that are captivating and that I understand. It is a winning, self-effacing and fresh voice and perspective. I adore his seemingly humble self-perception. (and it does not hurt that he is easy on the eyes...) Youtube really has revolutionized the world and how one can discover talent. Jay made his career out of his

My blog, "I Want to Be Seen" engendered myriad responses. To those whom I know that were validating and honest, I thank you. To those whom I have yet to meet, I am glad that you find such interest and escape in my words. To those whom I used to know, I thank you for your insight into my past and hope we can rekindle our friendship so you can see the man I am today. Sharing a sliver of yourself on here is intriguing. You find out things about others and their perceptions about you and their ideas of who they think you are and who you were. Fascinating when they are in opposition, validating when they are not... There is a reason that the heading of this blog is "an oddity in progress"... I am a work in progress and sometimes I venture onto this blank screen and start with a problem and resolve or birth a plan of action by jotting it out, by using the words that I am so grateful exist. So, a continued thanks for reading this, for commenting, for being a witness to m

There is a friend of my brother's that is the physical representation of "cool" and, during my adolescent years, he was my crush, my unforgettable unrequited. One day he discussed girls licking their guy's nipples. "I just don't get it... why they do it. It does NOTHING for me yet they all seem to like it." THIS I remember. I forget to pick up the necessary item at the grocery store, but a man whose nipple I shall never lick, and apparently even if I did it would prove to be a lackluster event on his end, now that is what I can recall on a dime. Ah, the unattainable man, the unpredictable mind, and the apathetic nipple. DASHley I really enjoy researching online little tidbits that are appropriate for the current musing... Here is an intriguing one about men's nipples (Call them nee-nees... It will make you giggle. Come on, just do it. Everyone is. Be the COOL kid.) Nipples: It’s About Science, People The reason men have nipples is because our

I am happy for my Mom and my best friend who have found love. I am content with who I am. After years, it is a miracle that I love myself with all my shortcomings, beauty, and possibility. Still... Over the past few days I have never felt more single, alone, and left out of the coupling process. I know there are far worse things and I will NOT settle or shun my value system. But, there are times I lose my breath feeling so alone, that I seem to do all this by myself... I have devoted these writings to positive aspects and growth and I know that, in the grand spectrum of it all, I have it easy. Therefore it is hard for me to write these thoughts, but if I do not they shall lurk about and fester. So... I have heard the lovely comments from friends and family... that I am different and that it will take a special guy, but I am 30. I am not saying I am old (I think the opposite and view age as merely a number) but I feel left behind, that others are getting to experience a date, a kiss,

My muse is churning out the hits but they are on a different station than which I am accustomed. I find my ideas in the shower... recently I had several new song ideas/lyrics/stories whilst cleansing the thinness that is the Dust. Currently, I am trying to write my fantasy novel, "Jarryd and Noki" and it tickles me that the muse delivers song concepts. Well, I am never one to look a gift horse in the mouth (what a fun saying that is) so I recorded the ideas on the video portion of my cell phone. These are videos that are for MY EYES ONLY. I am in the bathroom drenched and the camera is fogged up and I am creating the new tunes of my heart. Ah, the mischievous muse.... you just never know when or where he will strike with his mighty creativity. "Hours of pruny musings helped me write my tuneys... A drip-'til-dry melody and now I don't smelody..." ("Sanctuary in the Bathtub" Beam/Trotter forthcoming tune on my CD, "Learning to Land") D

I LOVE THE CLARKS!!!!!!!!!!!! (I used twelve exclamation marks/points to show the significance of the love and because twelve is my cosmic number.) It is that simple. Jay and Karen (and the illustrious Quin) allowed me to move into their lovely home under the proviso I would be out in a few days. Well that was October 18th and, look at your calendar folks, I am still here. I think that finally the light has bounced off of a nimbus cloud that I have not seen before and I might have a dwelling. But... I LOVE these two people. They just get me and leave me to my own devices. In this time where I have sequestered myself off into my own little respite lair, they have let me "do my own thing". And they are such lovely, talented, decent people. It has been my honour to get to know them more and their ultimate collaboration, THE Quin. He is the COOLEST child ever. I adore the boy. Tonight Jay, Karen, and I played a card game called Nerts. I am addicted and I saw new shades

There are few times that I will use the term "kick ass". "Batman, the Animated Series" is one time in which I feel that particular term is applicable. It is a (ahem -- clears throat for maximum delivery effectiveness) kick ass show and a righteous cartoon. The opening theme by Danny Elfman is a chilling symphonic dream. As a child/adolescent, I was allowed thirty minutes of television time prior to homework and I chose to delve into Gotham City every afternoon. Watching the series as an adult, I feel nostalgic and a newfound respect for this cartoon that pioneered a new way to handle a "children's" program. It is as compelling today as it was years ago, a timeless classic. That will be all for now. "What's next?" THE Dash

Since November of 2007, this kaleidoscope of musings has provided a reliquary to store my emotional relics, house my newfound bounty of friendships and confidence, and to illuminate the darkest passages of my artist's soul. This has been one of the most cathartic experiences: to write and find my "voice" in a new medium and share some of my story with you gracious and kind people. To you, whomever you are, I thank you for reading... for commenting... for validating... It has been an unforeseen blessing having you read the journey journal entries of my heart. I merely wanted to put in words my thoughts and sort through the murkiness and delights therein. The fact that some are interested in this and have been inspired by my narrative highlights the power of words and the internet. There is not sufficient language to express my gratitude over some of the comments I have received other than to simply say: I thank you from the deepest recesses of my heart. Love, Dustin

Last night was filled with firsts. It was the first time that I entertained for New Year's and the first time that people stayed over at the house afterwards. I went to bed late (or early depending on your labeling) and was filled with a sense of belonging and family because every bed contained a person I love. For several years New Year's Eve made me antsy. I felt that I had to be at the "right place" and having the most fun imaginable when the year ended and the new one commenced. On this night, we rise above ourselves and revisit the past year: our accomplishments realized, dreams that died, the person we hoped to be vs. the person we were/are. I keep finding myself in awe of perception and how, if one merely flips the perspective even a fraction of a degree, all can change. I don't look at the New Year with dread anymore, like some point at the end of a line segment. I see it as a continuation of the circle, the invitation to renew and affirm. There is

On this night, I am a sorcerer of time, cradling the past in one arm, the future in another. This demarcation of the then and now gives me pause and a lone thought to guide me in my travels: I shall breathe in the moments and in them find the delicious truth of NOW, the always that pirouettes in the chambers of possibility. Happy New Year to you all, my poppets. :-) Dustin P.S. I happened upon these insightful quotes: 
Ring out the old, ring in the new, For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning. T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding" 

We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day. Edith Lovejoy Pierce