theluckeystar

@theluckeystar
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I must have done something evil to someone because I am noticing a negative energy that is hovering over me. I can’t even pin point where it is coming from but I think that I have an idea.
A lot of you have been visiting my site. For some, it may be your first time while other frequent my site on a daily basis. Lately I notice my stats have definitely picking up over the last couple of months and I am SO grateful for that.
Not to mention the relationships and opportunities that have become available to me. When ever I am in public, I actually have people, who come up to me and tell me how much they love my site! I am constantly getting a heap of emails and package from readers and fans of the site.
I swear I am not being narcissistic as I do have a point in saying all of this. I work VERY hard! Sometimes I go without eating and sleeping, sometimes getting sick to the core. This industry can be hard to deal . There seems to be this rapid epidemic of ‘crab mentality’ among us bloggers of color.Not all of us are this way, but a lot of us are.
I remember when I decided to shift gears with the blog, I reached out to similar blogs. Not be messy and name names, they ALL threw shade at me. One even accused me of trying bite off his blog.
Even tonight, what was supposed to be a good gesture to my fellow bloggers turned into one questioning what I meant by being in good company with the likes of him. A couple of months ago another blogger reach out to me via YIM and I reminded him how he really hurt my feelings when I reached out to him and he stop responding. He claimed he didn’t even remember (it was three years prior).
This is a disturbing trend that I notice among my peers. Again..not all of them were like that. It’s sad that in the adult industry, there are only so many gay studios that caters to performers of color. There are even less bloggers out there and this is how we act!?
I don’t care about awards and accolades. My readers are my validation and I love what I do! I know what that shit feels like to have your favorite blogger shade the fuck out of you simply because you are reaching out for advice.  I promise myself that I would NEVER do that to other up and coming bloggers. I won’t tell you ALL my secrets but if I can help, I am there for you. That’s how it should be.
I know this issue is bigger then the blogger world but that is what it is like, hence why I don’t socialize with other bloggers like that.EVERYTHING that is The Luckey Star, I built from the ground up. I had to learn it on my own because there weren’t anyone out there who helped me.  Even as of know I am a one man machine!
This is a rant so I don’t expect too many people to even read this or understand but those who do, PLEASE don’t be like the people I describe above. You will not get far with that type of mentality.

 
And to those who were offended..


Original Article

I must have done something evil to someone because I am noticing a negative energy that is hovering over me. I can’t even pin point where it is coming from but I think that I have an idea.

A lot of you have been visiting my site. For some, it may be your first time while other frequent my site on a daily basis. Lately I notice my stats have definitely picking up over the last couple of months and I am SO grateful for that.

Not to mention the relationships and opportunities that have become available to me. When ever I am in public, I actually have people, who come up to me and tell me how much they love my site! I am constantly getting a heap of emails and package from readers and fans of the site.

I swear I am not being narcissistic as I do have a point in saying all of this. I work VERY hard! Sometimes I go without eating and sleeping, sometimes getting sick to the core. This industry can be hard to deal . There seems to be this rapid epidemic of ‘crab mentality’ among us bloggers of color.Not all of us are this way, but a lot of us are.

I remember when I decided to shift gears with the blog, I reached out to similar blogs. Not be messy and name names, they ALL threw shade at me. One even accused me of trying bite off his blog.

Even tonight, what was supposed to be a good gesture to my fellow bloggers turned into one questioning what I meant by being in good company with the likes of him. A couple of months ago another blogger reach out to me via YIM and I reminded him how he really hurt my feelings when I reached out to him and he stop responding. He claimed he didn’t even remember (it was three years prior).

This is a disturbing trend that I notice among my peers. Again..not all of them were like that. It’s sad that in the adult industry, there are only so many gay studios that caters to performers of color. There are even less bloggers out there and this is how we act!?

I don’t care about awards and accolades. My readers are my validation and I love what I do! I know what that shit feels like to have your favorite blogger shade the fuck out of you simply because you are reaching out for advice.  I promise myself that I would NEVER do that to other up and coming bloggers. I won’t tell you ALL my secrets but if I can help, I am there for you. That’s how it should be.

I know this issue is bigger then the blogger world but that is what it is like, hence why I don’t socialize with other bloggers like that.EVERYTHING that is The Luckey Star, I built from the ground up. I had to learn it on my own because there weren’t anyone out there who helped me.  Even as of know I am a one man machine!

This is a rant so I don’t expect too many people to even read this or understand but those who do, PLEASE don’t be like the people I describe above. You will not get far with that type of mentality.

 

And to those who were offended..



So powerful..
Whoever you are, where ever you are, I’m starting to think we’re a lot alike. Human beings spinning on blackness. All wanting to be seen, touched, heard, paid attention to. My loved ones are everything to me here. In the last year or three, I’ve screamed at my creator, screamed at clouds in the sky for some explanation. Mercy maybe. For peace of mind to rain like Manna somehow.
Four summers ago, I met somebody. I was 19 years old; he was too. We spent that summer, and the summer after, together. Everyday almost. And on the days we were together, time would glide. Most of the day I’d see him and his smile. I’d hear his conversation and his silence until it was time to sleep. Sleep I would often share with him. By the time I realized I was in love, it was malignant. It was hopeless. It was no escaping, no negotiating with the feelings. No choice. It was my first love. It changed my life.
Back then, my mind would wander to the women I had been with, the ones I cared for and thought I was in love with. I reminisced about the sentimental songs I enjoyed when I was a teenager. The ones I played when I experienced a girlfriend for the first time. I realized they were written in a language I did not yet speak. I realized too much too quickly. Imagine being thrown from a plane. I wasn’t in a plane though. I was in a Nissan Maxima, the same car I packed up with bags and drove to Los Angeles in.
I sat there and told my friend how I felt. I wept as the words left my mouth. I grieved for them, knowing I could never take them back for myself. He patted my back. He said kind things. He did his best. But he wouldn’t admit the same.
He had to go back inside soon. It was late and his girlfriend was waiting for him upstairs. He wouldn’t tell me the truth about his feelings for me for another three years. I felt like I only imagined reciprocity for years. Now imagine being thrown from a cliff. No, I wasn’t on a cliff. I was still in my car telling myself it was gonna be fine and to take deep breaths. I took the breaths and carried on. I kept up a peculiar friendship with him because I couldn’t imagine keeping up my life without him. I struggled to master myself and my emotions. I wasn’t always successful.
The dance went on…I kept the rhythm for several summers after. It’s winter now. I’m typing this on a plane back to Los Angeles from New Orleans. I flew home for another marred Christmas. I have a window seat. It’s December 27th, 2011. By now I’ve written two albums. This being the second. I wrote to keep myself busy and sane. I wanted to created worlds that were rosier than mine. I tried to channel overwhelming emotions. I’m surprised at how far all of it has taken me.
Before writing this, I told some people my story. I’m sure these people kept me alive, kept me safe…sincerely, these are the folks I want to thank from the floor of my heart. Everyone of you knows who you are….
Great humans, probably angels. I don’t know what happens now, and that’s alright.
I don’t have any secrets I need kept anymore. There’s probably some small shit still, but you know what I mean. I was never alone, as much as I felt like it. As much as I still do sometimes. I never was. I don’t think I ever could be. Thanks.
To my first love, I’m grateful for you. Grateful that even though it wasn’t what I hoped for and even though it was never enough, it was. Some things never are…and we were. I won’t forget you. I won’t forget the summer. I’ll remember who I was when I met you. I’ll remember who you were and how we’ve both changed and stayed the same. I’ve never had more respect for life and living than I have right now.
Maybe it takes a near death experience to feel alive. Thanks.
To my mother, you raised me strong. I know I’m only brave because you were first, so thank you! All of you, for everything good. I feel like a free man. If I listen closely, I can hear the sky falling too.
THIS IS HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW!!


And I would to donate a FUCK YOU to all the haters, who stop fucking with Frank Ocean. He don’t need them anyway! Get your shine F.O.!
Original Article

So powerful..

Whoever you are, where ever you are, I’m starting to think we’re a lot alike. Human beings spinning on blackness. All wanting to be seen, touched, heard, paid attention to. My loved ones are everything to me here. In the last year or three, I’ve screamed at my creator, screamed at clouds in the sky for some explanation. Mercy maybe. For peace of mind to rain like Manna somehow.

Four summers ago, I met somebody. I was 19 years old; he was too. We spent that summer, and the summer after, together. Everyday almost. And on the days we were together, time would glide. Most of the day I’d see him and his smile. I’d hear his conversation and his silence until it was time to sleep. Sleep I would often share with him. By the time I realized I was in love, it was malignant. It was hopeless. It was no escaping, no negotiating with the feelings. No choice. It was my first love. It changed my life.
Back then, my mind would wander to the women I had been with, the ones I cared for and thought I was in love with. I reminisced about the sentimental songs I enjoyed when I was a teenager. The ones I played when I experienced a girlfriend for the first time. I realized they were written in a language I did not yet speak. I realized too much too quickly. Imagine being thrown from a plane. I wasn’t in a plane though. I was in a Nissan Maxima, the same car I packed up with bags and drove to Los Angeles in.

I sat there and told my friend how I felt. I wept as the words left my mouth. I grieved for them, knowing I could never take them back for myself. He patted my back. He said kind things. He did his best. But he wouldn’t admit the same.

He had to go back inside soon. It was late and his girlfriend was waiting for him upstairs. He wouldn’t tell me the truth about his feelings for me for another three years. I felt like I only imagined reciprocity for years. Now imagine being thrown from a cliff. No, I wasn’t on a cliff. I was still in my car telling myself it was gonna be fine and to take deep breaths. I took the breaths and carried on. I kept up a peculiar friendship with him because I couldn’t imagine keeping up my life without him. I struggled to master myself and my emotions. I wasn’t always successful.

The dance went on…I kept the rhythm for several summers after. It’s winter now. I’m typing this on a plane back to Los Angeles from New Orleans. I flew home for another marred Christmas. I have a window seat. It’s December 27th, 2011. By now I’ve written two albums. This being the second. I wrote to keep myself busy and sane. I wanted to created worlds that were rosier than mine. I tried to channel overwhelming emotions. I’m surprised at how far all of it has taken me.

Before writing this, I told some people my story. I’m sure these people kept me alive, kept me safe…sincerely, these are the folks I want to thank from the floor of my heart. Everyone of you knows who you are….

Great humans, probably angels. I don’t know what happens now, and that’s alright.
I don’t have any secrets I need kept anymore. There’s probably some small shit still, but you know what I mean. I was never alone, as much as I felt like it. As much as I still do sometimes. I never was. I don’t think I ever could be. Thanks.

To my first love, I’m grateful for you. Grateful that even though it wasn’t what I hoped for and even though it was never enough, it was. Some things never are…and we were. I won’t forget you. I won’t forget the summer. I’ll remember who I was when I met you. I’ll remember who you were and how we’ve both changed and stayed the same. I’ve never had more respect for life and living than I have right now.
Maybe it takes a near death experience to feel alive. Thanks.
To my mother, you raised me strong. I know I’m only brave because you were first, so thank you! All of you, for everything good. I feel like a free man. If I listen closely, I can hear the sky falling too.

THIS IS HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW!!

And I would to donate a FUCK YOU to all the haters, who stop fucking with Frank Ocean. He don’t need them anyway! Get your shine F.O.!

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