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Migraine Fog

This migraine just will not go away. I left work early yesterday because it had gotten so bad, and it only worsened throughout the afternoon and evening. Thankfully, it’s somewhat better this morning, but it’s still lingering enough to make me wish I could simply roll over, pull the covers back up, and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, life and responsibilities do not always cooperate with migraines. I have a couple of meetings this morning, and unless things suddenly take a turn for the worse before I leave for work, I’ll head in and try to make it through the day. Hopefully, it will stay manageable and not intensify again.

One thing I’ve learned over the years is that migraines are exhausting in more ways than one. Even when the pain eases, they leave behind a sort of fog and fatigue that can make even ordinary tasks feel overwhelming. So today, I’ll just focus on getting through what needs to be done and hope for a quiet evening and a better tomorrow.

I hope everyone else’s day is off to a much better start.

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So We’ll Go No More a Roving

So We’ll Go No More a Roving
By George Gordon Byron

So, we’ll go no more a roving
    So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
    And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
    And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
    And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
    And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a roving
    By the light of the moon.

About the Poem

One of the things I’ve always loved about poetry is how a short poem can contain an entire lifetime of emotion. George Gordon Byron’s “So We’ll Go No More a Roving” is one of those poems. It is brief, simple, and deeply human. Beneath its quiet words is a reflection on love, exhaustion, desire, aging, and the realization that even the strongest heart cannot burn endlessly without rest.

There is something especially poignant in the line, “And love itself have rest.” For LGBTQ+ people, especially those who have spent years hiding, searching, or struggling simply to be themselves, that line can strike a particularly deep chord. Sometimes we spend so much of our lives fighting to be accepted, loved, and understood that we forget the soul also needs peace. Byron reminds us that even passion must pause to breathe.

The poem does not deny love or beauty. The moon is still bright, and the heart is still loving. Instead, it acknowledges that we are human beings with limits. There is wisdom in recognizing when to rest, when to be still, and when to simply let ourselves exist quietly beneath the moonlight rather than endlessly chasing it.

“So We’ll Go No More a Roving” was written by Byron in 1817 and published after his death. Though only twelve lines long, it captures themes common to Romantic poetry: love, longing, weariness, mortality, and the tension between passion and limitation.

The poem is believed to reflect Byron’s own exhaustion from the emotional and physical excesses of his life. Byron was famous not only for his poetry but also for his scandals, affairs, travels, and restless spirit. Yet in this poem, there is a surprising quietness. Instead of dramatic heartbreak, the speaker simply acknowledges that endless wandering and endless passion cannot continue forever.

One of the poem’s greatest strengths is its balance between beauty and sadness. The moon is still bright. Love still exists. Desire has not vanished. But the speaker recognizes that the body and soul need rest. It is a gentle meditation on human limits rather than a rejection of love itself.

About the Poet

George Gordon Byron (1788–1824), better known as Lord Byron, was one of the leading figures of the Romantic movement in English literature. Known for works such as Don Juan and Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Byron became famous throughout Europe for both his poetry and his controversial personal life.

Byron’s relationships, emotional intensity, and defiance of social expectations contributed to his enduring reputation as the archetypal “Byronic hero.” Though discussions of sexuality in his era were often hidden or coded, many scholars have noted Byron’s relationships with both women and men, making him an important figure in queer literary history as well.

He died in 1824 while assisting the Greek fight for independence from the Ottoman Empire, cementing both his literary legend and his reputation as a passionate, restless romantic figure.

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Happy Memorial Day!

I woke up this morning, fed Isabella, and then realized something wonderful—it’s a holiday, and I can go right back to bed. There are few better feelings than knowing you can pull the covers back up, settle in, and drift off for a little while longer without worrying about work.

So that’s exactly what I plan to do.

I hope everyone has a relaxing and peaceful Memorial Day, whether you’re spending it with family, grilling outside, traveling, or simply enjoying a quiet day at home. And today, we should also remember the men and women who gave their lives in service to this country and the sacrifices they made.

As for me and Isabella, we’ll be celebrating the holiday with more sleep.

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Trusting the Unseen Path

“Just as you do not know how the breath comes to the bones in the mother’s womb, so you do not know the work of God, who makes everything.” 

— Ecclesiastes 11:5 

There are moments in life when we desperately want answers. We want to know why certain doors closed, why some prayers seemed unanswered, why our journeys have taken difficult turns, or why we were made the way we are. For many LGBTQ+ Christians, these questions can become especially heavy when faith and identity seem to collide with the expectations of others.

Yet Ecclesiastes reminds us of a profound truth: we do not fully understand the work of God.

The writer points to the mystery of life itself. We cannot see how breath becomes life or how a child is formed in the womb, yet it happens according to the creative work of God. In the same way, we cannot always see where God is leading us or fully understand His purposes while we are living through them. Faith often means trusting before we understand.

The Bible repeatedly reminds us that God’s vision is greater than our own:

“For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” — Jeremiah 29:11

That promise was spoken to people living in uncertainty and exile. They could not see the ending of the story yet, but God could. Many LGBTQ+ believers know what it feels like to live in uncertainty — wondering if there is a place for us in the Church, questioning whether we are truly loved by God, or fearing that our lives somehow fall outside His plan. But Scripture consistently tells us otherwise: God does not abandon His children.

Psalm 139 beautifully declares:

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” — Psalm 139:14

You are not an accident. Your capacity to love, your compassion, your resilience, your spirit — none of these are mistakes. Even when others fail to understand you, God still sees you fully and lovingly.

Sometimes we wish God would reveal the entire roadmap of our lives. Instead, He often gives us just enough light for the next step. Proverbs reminds us:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” — Proverbs 3:5–6

Trusting God does not mean pretending life is easy or that we never struggle. It means believing that even when we cannot see the whole picture, God is still at work within it. The painful seasons, the lonely moments, the unexpected detours — none of them are wasted in God’s hands.

Romans 8:28 offers another reassurance:

“We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

Notice that Paul does not say all things are good. Some experiences are genuinely painful. But God can still bring goodness, growth, healing, and love out of even the hardest chapters of our lives.

Faith is often about learning to trust the unseen work of God. Just as seeds grow beneath the soil long before we witness the flower, God may be shaping our lives in ways we cannot yet perceive. What feels confusing today may someday reveal itself as grace.

So if you find yourself uncertain about the future, remember this: God’s understanding is far greater than ours, and His love for you is deeper than fear, shame, or rejection. You may not understand every step of your journey, but you can trust that God walks beside you through all of it.

And sometimes, faith simply means taking the next step while believing that God already sees the road ahead.

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Moment of Zen: Meditation

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A Quiet Start to a Holiday Weekend

I’m working from home this morning and then have the afternoon off. Because of that, when Isabella decided at 4 a.m. that she absolutely needed breakfast, I got up to feed her and then crawled right back into bed. Since that completely disrupted my normal routine, I almost forgot to write a post this morning. Thankfully, I remembered before the coffee had fully kicked in.

Hopefully, today will be easy and go smoothly. I have a few errands to run this afternoon, and then I plan to settle into a relaxing weekend. At least, that’s the hope.

For those of you outside the United States, you may not realize that this is a major holiday weekend here. Monday is Memorial Day, which means this weekend is generally considered the unofficial beginning of summer. Of course, you wouldn’t know that from the weather in Vermont. We’re under a freeze warning this morning. While people in warmer places are probably headed to the beach or the lake, I’m sitting here with coffee wondering if I should turn the heat back on.

I do wish I was headed somewhere exciting, but my only possible plans are to see The Mandalorian & Grogu, which opens in theaters today. I don’t go to the movies very often anymore, but I really enjoyed The Mandalorian, and I’d like to see the movie. Then again, holiday weekends usually mean crowded theaters, so I may wait and see how ambitious I feel.

My other thought—though not a particularly serious one—was going to the Burly Bears gathering tonight in Burlington. It’s one of the few gay men-centered social events in Vermont and takes place at one of the bars there. Every month has a different theme, and tonight’s is “007,” so it’s all James Bond-inspired. If I had a really great suit—or better yet, a tuxedo—I might actually consider going. Unfortunately, I haven’t bought a new suit since losing weight, and I don’t really want to invest in one until I’m certain my weight has stabilized or unless I suddenly need one for a job interview. So, James Bond sophistication may have to wait.

If you’re in the United States, do you have any Memorial Day weekend plans? And for everyone else, what are your plans for the weekend? 

Whatever you do—or don’t do—I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

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The Quiet Days

There are days when I wake up knowing exactly what I want to write about, and then there are mornings like this one where my mind is mostly blank except for coffee, work, and the fact that I’m tired.

I’m working a half day today and a half day tomorrow from home before being off until Tuesday. Honestly, there’s not much else going on at the moment. No big plans. No exciting museum events. No deep philosophical thoughts before sunrise. Just another quiet morning in Vermont.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing.

Life has felt so busy lately that perhaps a few uneventful days are exactly what I need. Sometimes peace arrives disguised as routine: feeding Isabella, drinking coffee while the house is still quiet, going to work, and coming home without drama or exhaustion waiting at the door.

We spend so much time thinking life has to be exciting to matter. Social media certainly makes it seem that way. But most of life is lived in ordinary moments, and there is something comforting about that. Quiet days give us room to breathe.

So today may simply be a workday followed by another workday tomorrow. Then a few days to rest, recharge, and maybe do absolutely nothing important at all.

And honestly, that sounds pretty nice.

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Not Much to Say

Some mornings, I sit down to write these posts and the words come easily. Other mornings, like today, I realize I really don’t have much to say at all. Life is just…quiet at the moment. No major excitement, no dramatic stories, no deep thoughts before sunrise. Just another workday ahead.

I’m working a full day today and then only a half day tomorrow before being off work until next Tuesday, which is definitely something to look forward to. Sometimes having a few quiet days with nothing much going on is a good thing, even if it doesn’t make for the most exciting blog post.

Right now, I think I’m mostly just looking forward to a slower pace, a little extra rest, and not having to think too much for a few days. Honestly, that sounds pretty nice to me.

I hope all of you have a wonderful day and an even better weekend ahead.

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Notes for Further Study

Notes for Further Study  

By Christopher Salerno

You are a nobody  

until another man leaves  

a note under your wiper:  

I like your hair, clothes, car—call me!  

Late May, I brush pink  

Crepe Myrtle blossoms  

from the hood of my car.  

Again spring factors  

into our fever. Would this  

affair leave any room for error?  

What if I only want  

him to hum me a lullaby.  

To rest in the nets  

of our own preferences.  

I think of women  

I’ve loved who, near the end,  

made love to me solely  

for the endorphins. Praise  

be to those bodies lit  

with magic. I pulse  

my wipers, sweep away pollen  

from the windshield glass  

to allow the radar  

detector to detect. In the prim  

light of spring I drive  

home alone along the river’s  

tight curves where it bends  

like handwritten words.  

On the radio, a foreign love  

song some men sing to rise.

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About the Poem

There is something achingly familiar in this poem for many gay men, especially those who came of age learning to read desire in fragments, gestures, and coded moments. A note under a windshield wiper becomes more than flirtation—it becomes recognition. You are a nobody until another man notices you. That line carries the quiet loneliness of invisibility and the sudden electricity of being seen.

Christopher Salerno captures the strange mixture of hope, caution, lust, tenderness, and melancholy that can accompany even the smallest encounter. Spring, with its blossoms and pollen and feverish renewal, becomes the perfect backdrop for possibility. Yet beneath the flirtation is uncertainty. Is this about romance? Sex? Comfort? Escape? The speaker wonders if he only wants “him to hum me a lullaby,” which feels less like seduction and more like a longing to rest safely in another person’s presence.

I also love how physical the poem feels without ever becoming explicit: the pollen on the windshield, the pulse of the wipers, the river curving “like handwritten words.” Everything is movement and sensation. Even driving home alone carries emotional weight. Desire lingers in the air like spring humidity.

What strikes me most is the ending. A foreign love song “some men sing to rise.” The line feels both deeply personal and universal—a reminder that queer longing has always existed, often in coded forms, carried through songs, glances, poems, and half-understood signals. Sometimes survival itself has depended on learning how to hear those songs.

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About the Poem

“Notes for Further Study” is a contemporary lyric poem that explores queer desire, loneliness, intimacy, and emotional ambiguity through the lens of an ordinary moment. Christopher Salerno uses everyday imagery—cars, windshield wipers, spring blossoms, radio music—to create a meditation on what it means to be recognized and desired by another person.

The poem moves fluidly between memory, observation, and reflection. Its title suggests both emotional self-examination and the unfinished nature of human connection: these are “notes,” not conclusions. The poem’s emotional power comes from its restraint, allowing longing and vulnerability to emerge through image and implication rather than overt declaration.

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About the Author

Christopher Salerno is an American poet, editor, and educator known for poetry that often explores identity, desire, memory, and emotional vulnerability with lyrical precision. He is the author of several poetry collections, including The Man Grave and Sun & Urn. Salerno’s work frequently balances sensual imagery with introspective reflection, creating poems that feel both intimate and intellectually searching.

In addition to his poetry, Salerno has worked extensively in literary publishing and editing, helping support contemporary poetry and emerging writers through journals and literary organizations.

Thankfully, I am feeling better today. I still have a slight headache, and I barely slept last night, but I’m not in as much pain as when I woke up yesterday. I wish I could stay home another day, but I have things I have to do at work today.​

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Monday Reality Check

I went to bed early last night because of a migraine. Unfortunately, when I woke up this morning, the migraine was still there and has only gotten worse the longer I’ve been awake. To make matters even worse, I woke up thinking it was Sunday…only to realize, to my horror, that it is actually Monday.

So today, I’m staying home, using a sick day, and going back to bed. Sometimes that’s just what you have to do.

I hope all of you have a much better start to your week than I have had so far.

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Kindness That Reflects Christ

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” — Ephesians 4:32 

For many LGBTQ+ Christians, kindness has often come from unexpected places. Sometimes it has come from close friends who stood beside us when others walked away. Sometimes it has come from strangers who simply treated us with dignity when we desperately needed it. And sometimes, sadly, the places that should have reflected Christ’s love most clearly have instead offered judgment, rejection, or silence.

That is why Ephesians 4:32 feels so important. Paul does not say, “Be correct to one another,” or “Win every argument.” He says: “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted…” Kindness is not weakness. Tenderheartedness is not compromise. These are Christlike virtues.

Jesus repeatedly showed that love and compassion were at the center of His ministry. He touched those others avoided. He ate with those society rejected. He defended the vulnerable. Over and over again, Christ demonstrated that human dignity matters.

Paul echoes this same spirit elsewhere:

“Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.” — Colossians 3:13 

And again:

“Let all that you do be done in love.” — 1 Corinthians 16:14 

As LGBTQ+ people, many of us know what it feels like to long for grace. We know what it means to hope someone will see us fully and still choose kindness. Because of that, we are uniquely capable of extending compassion to others. The pain we have endured can either harden us or deepen our empathy. Christ calls us toward the latter.

This does not mean accepting abuse or remaining in harmful spaces. Forgiveness and kindness are not the same as allowing others to wound us endlessly. Jesus Himself walked away from those who sought to harm Him. Healthy boundaries can coexist with grace.

But Ephesians reminds us that our hearts should not become consumed by bitterness. The world already contains enough cruelty. Christians—especially those who know what exclusion feels like—can instead become witnesses to a different way of living: one rooted in mercy, tenderness, and love.

Micah 6:8 offers a similar call:

“What does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?”

Love kindness. Not merely tolerate it. Not occasionally practice it. Love it.

In a harsh world, kindness can become holy resistance.

Today, may you remember that Christ’s love is not diminished by who you are. You are called to reflect His compassion not because you must earn God’s love, but because you already live within it. And sometimes the greatest testimony we can offer is simply this: after everything we have endured, we still choose kindness.

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Moment of Zen: Tanlines

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Half-Day Friday

It’s work-from-home Friday today, and honestly, I might not even get dressed. One of the small joys of working from home is being able to ease into the day with a cup of coffee, comfortable clothes, and no commute. Since I worked some extra time yesterday, I’ll only be working half a day today, which makes the start of the weekend feel even sweeter.

The best part is that I’m finally feeling better. The rain has finally moved on, and with it, the headache and sluggishness I’ve been fighting the past few days. It’s amazing how much weather can affect how we feel, especially here in Vermont where gray skies can seem endless at times. Today feels lighter in more ways than one.

I’m looking forward to a quiet weekend, a little rest, and hopefully some sunshine. After a long, rainy stretch, it’s nice to finally feel human again.

I hope all of you have a wonderful weekend ahead!