Greetings!

You’ve found me during an interesting time in my life. In 2021 my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, prompting me to leave New York, my home of 20 years, and move back to Los Angeles, which has seen radical change since the 90’s. Tha hell is “DTLA?” Why are people without court dates, who are not looking for Crank, spending time downtown at all hours of the day and night? I’m praying for everyone who ventures or lives(!) there. Regardless, I’m back in the city and house where most of my traumas and insecurities were born, caregiving for my mama, alone, while grieving the life I thought I’d lead, as well as my sister and father, who passed in 2020 and 2022, respectively.

Life has been lifin’.

It’s the beginning of 2024, and I am struggling. I need an outlet to help keep me alive, while I do the same for my mom. I see spinster Iola Boyland when I close my eyes at night; she haunts me. She’s got my face, always carries something I crocheted, and enters her best friend’s house drinking wine straight from the bottle, complaining about having to scrub mother’s excrement out of the carpet and trying to find a gay man, in this city, who is mature and understanding enough to tolerate...that.

Whomever, wherever you are, bruh... Accio!

My intention here is to find my voice as a writer, and to discover this new Will McNair: a fortysomething black-gay male caregiver to an effective eight-year-old, who is trying to reconcile his past and present while stress-squeezing mustard seeds of faith worrying about his future. Will I make friend-family here in Los Angeles? Will I be self-actualized, having built a fulfilling life and career for myself? Will I finally stop talking about sex and go out and get some for the first time in over a decade?

Here’s hoping, friends. From our lips to God’s ears, here’s hopin’!