So
i was sitting on the deck yesterday staring out at the valley
the beautiful light
i was a bit pissy
coz i’d dragged Leo down to town to pick up a package
thinking it was two packages
one from my mother
and one she forwarded from a psycho kid i know on NYC
but there was only one
His
and it had been put in isolation because it was leaking white powder…
Anthrax?
no- spirutein… a health drink
what was in this box?
i opened it:
Four burnt candles in glass
?
two things he’d bought for me
but he was so crazy
i’d just left them
and some health-food shake shit
that was spilled everywhere
and a book i had lent him
but not my copy
he’d lost that
along with all the markings i had made in it
some crap re-buy he gave me
gee- thanks
and… a clump of my hair.
i threw most of it away
some people just don’t know how to let go
so
feeling pissy
i call Kwai
coz when we’d got back he’d left a message telling me there was an opening in the dance…
he told me he was driving up the 101 and going to oregon
now, i was supposed to go down to Palm Springs with Leo and Rick this thursday
for a piss party
sex play
blah blah
but i really wanted to see Radiohead
but my brother didn’t get tickets
so
no concert
and i didn’t really feel like going down
this was perfect
everything seemed perfect
i told Leo
and he offered to take me to Ukiah to meet him
but then mercury retrograde kicked in
and communication broke down
and things got all a bit pissy
and he was telling me i was becomming so flakey
and there was anger
and patterns repeating
and the sun was gone behind the mountains
again
it was all going dark
and all i could do was rage through my confusions
Hello
where am i?
i’m in Oregon
Grant’s Pass
at an internet cafe
on the way to Wolf Creek
for the Beltane Faery Gathering
Yeah.
here i am
where are you
and who are you with
on the day where love is a ceremony?
So, all who read this and have time
i have a reqest:
write to me about Fetish.
the importance of it
where the love is
where the attraction is
perhaps story of its origins
perhaps stories of its glee
i’ll talk more about it later
right now i just want to hear what your relationship with it is
you know, i tell these stories over and over and over.
i was telling him today
“oh, i got a letter from this kid today”
i giggle too big, my face is red…
hell, my Soul is Red.
i’m flushed
i’m blushed
i try to explain
“.. the one i love”
and it just sounds like an old jazz song.
i don’t understand it either, but on with the Tale
“i kinda bubble over at him, then don’t hear from him for days… or weeks… or months (or years) until i get angry and write him off… then he connects.”
i guess i fear i’ll never hear from him again: defense is Get Angry
the age-old lesson
of
LET IT GO
there it is!
PHEW
–“i heard the news today, Oh BOY”
i was laying in bed all day today with Leo.
the last few days there has been someone else here…
i got sick when i arrived
i took it personally
i got angry (at myself)
they all started talking about allergies
and, though i would take even that as a personal problem
i let it go
“oh, i have allergies”
what the fuck?
i decided not to travel with Leo to the coast
just to stay on my own
things were gonna be different this time
but the first day
was me mostly on line
like a junky
and the next day featured TWO men comming up here
Wade and i went to the hot springs
It helped move all the phlem through my face
i slept in his arms
and a pretty pale skinned voluptous woman
who had been floating on her back
surfaced in front of me
smiled
looked in my eyes
and said
“your eyes…
they’re… so Clear…
— i think you have gotten rid of Everything”
sweet, but…. ( not the case )
wade reminded me of everyone
ex lovers and fantasy charecters
it was insane and just plaIn sad
i got terrified of him
and he was ackting like quite the rodent in the flashlight as well
but golly
when did we all get so afraid here?
i was standing in the kitchen today
Leo was standing the chicken up in the roaster thing
“dancing chicken”
something about the getting the fat out…
obviously: i like fat
he cut off some big chunks
i convinced him to dress the dancing chicken up like an ’80’s pop star
with fatty shoulder pads
so it would melt down her shoulders
and she would glisten in the stage lights
–“allllllRight”
i let him touch everything
i stood back like a good director
i knew if i touched the fat or the bird
i would have to wash my hands again
and i got paranoid about all the poison oak up here
so have been washing my hands thouroughly
one minute or more of soap and warm water a few times a day
and he already made the comment
“what are you, Lady MacBeth?”
[is it that obvious? i always thought i hid it so well… still, there is blood… on my hands]
it made me think of my time with my brother over the last few years
i was about to say
“i didn’t realize my brother was such an obsessive compulsive germ freak”
but i didn’t
because
in truth
i always knew it
my whole family is afraid
we’re all afraid
i’m afraid too.
so how come i’m the only one who pretends he’s not?
and i looked at it
many times today…
as i lay in bed with Leo
i was afraid of his breath
whatever is going on in his intestines to make his breath smell like that
i don’t want in my intestines
people tell me my breath is intoxicating
and perhaps i am better as a commodity
as an abject (i meant to type “object”)
it is pride
but i want to keep my purity
god… something in this world has to be pure
i lay in bed with him
and was wary of him:
if he hugged me
it would hurt my hand
or my spine
or my eyes (he grabs me so hard and pulls me tight so quick, sticks his chin in my occular sockets)
i was terrified of him
and i realized i always went for men i was terrified of
physically
and then used my mental prowess to tame them
(lion tamer.. what joke did i used to tell about that? Ha ha!)
best them
control them
control my fears…
ok, i don’t get it
someone please explain
after all this time
i’ve realized that i’m still afraid
i still have LOTS of fear
TONS of it
and now i don’t believe i ever didn’t..
but what has allowed me to do what i’ve done?
do what i do?
i don’t pay attention to the fear?
i don’t feed it?
i ignore it? hide it? smash it? colour it? sell it? market it? shape it and give it away?
i put it in my pocket and lie about having it at all?
–“young america, young america… he was a young american”
–“it’s enough to make me break down and cry”
yeah… Right.
i wanted to respond to this post by Nayland…
but my response was too long
so i posted it in my journal
(ah, brevity is not my strong point… no need)
:
hmmm
i love this.
Today
my great-aunt Marlene died.
she was 68
and that’s old for our family
she was about her right body weight
but smoked like a chimney and drank like a drunk
worked in a latino biker bar in detroit…
when my sister called today to tell me she’d “passed”
my first thought and comment was “Good for her”
i am always happy to hear someone i know has died.
i was told at a young age that they go someplace better than here
and though i love this world and everything
a lot of people are starving for life and suffering through what they have
it’s alright
GO
that’s what we’re here for: we’re here to Go
(wink)
now, Nayland, you can send me back that post i deleted, and i’ll post it again
from the moment i heard of your gaining i saw it as a dangerous thing
as far as “health” and “life” is concerned
as i child
i was the only skinny kid in my family
they’re all fat
and they drop like flies in their late 50’s or early 60’s
heart attacks, diabetes, strokes
YEAH!
but i was skinny
and grew up in indiana
i HATED fat people
they really bugged me…
especially my brother…
but anyway
as i got more into myself
and accepted myself for who i was
i started making friends with the fat kids
(this was round age 13)
at age 14
i had my first bear
a 31 year old
5’8″
160#
but mostly muscle
(covered with fur, but for his face)
so i thought i always liked muscle bears
but i seduced another teacher of mine when i lived in england
at age 17
and he was fat
we would joke about how he was a “creme puff”
and i just loved him
it didn’t matter
but as i became more and more sexually active
i found i liked fat men so much more…
i would tell them many things:
“the soft and round is the archetype of the female… combined with the body hair and beard, as well as the general more masucline personality, a bear is both mother and father to me… as well as playful friend”
and
“well, if you had the choice of sharing your body with someone
would you rather do it with someone who hates their body
and starves it and pushes it against machines and shaves and waxes and drugs and all that shit?
or someone who obviously loves the sensual pleasures?
covered in a myriad of fine anntenae to feel all the pleasure
so evident in their voluptous bellies
from there succulent tastes adding to their jolly girth?”
i began to Love fat people
now it bothers me
to fetishize someone so much
i see myself do it so often
to pounce on some big fat guy
(the bears in brazil were all refering to themselves as Fat.. it helped me de-stygmatize the american meaning)
and love them for their size and weight
even if i would only love them Once…
for as AA brought up
i so often find hot fat men
who are just supressing all their feelings
they may enjoy the feeling of sugar on their toungue, sure
but no
not their deep rooted emotions
not even their present emotions
frustrating as all hell!
now, i can see why AA pointed that finger at you
you’re Shy
(etc…)
but in MY experience with you
you were open and loving and forward enough
(well, after a few years and then some more months actually, hmmmmm)
but i have also always believed that an Artist willingly chooses to abstract and stuff his emotions one way or another
that surpession is also a way of digestion
gestation
so it can burst forth
no matter how brutal
into something more brutal to be shared with others more fully
everyone can go through life just feeling their emotions
but to be able to stop that water
take it in hand
and give it back to the world as a fountain
or an ice sculpture
or… landscaping
it’s a gift
a gift we have to give.
so
as i said before
i wouldn’t really mind if you die
i mean, it’d be great for you
but i believe it will happen in its time
i’m not really too worried
and in my desires,
i DO want to spend more time with you
so DON’T DIE YET!!
(wink)
now you are at another art piece
where you are closer to death…
you get to balance it and shape it
touch it
and sleep with it
breathe it everday
people have often asked me about all the beautiful people in brazil
apparently it’s a cliche how beautiful they are
i can only respond
that
YES, they are beautiful
but only because of how desperate their lives are
how close they are to death at any moment
it is a luxury they do not have
that we suffer through greatly in this country
they cannot be abstracted and detatched from life too far
for at any turn
hunger or the hunger of another could put their life to a hasty Halt
it makes their souls burn brighter
and if bodies are anything
they are the material expression of our Souls…
so yes, their bodies so beautiful..
my body has always been my favourite art medium
though i am not pierced or tattoo’d…
i make love
and share that
letting others experience the lever we can be in our bodies together
( i have been feeling stifled, as you can tell, such all of my gushing here )
that morning at your house
my doing yoga naked in front of you was my way of not preaching
(as i am doing a bit here)
but just setting a good example
being in the body in a loveing sensual way
that IS healing
and healthy
and you can still be fat!
(i learned yoga from a bear and his wife)
but yes
gyms are a bore
dear
get out of that city
come up and walk the hills with me
lay your body down in the river
or the hot springs
let your skin get hot from the sun
barefoot on the sharp and loving ground
and turn on your head
“if you fall, i will catch you”
(laughs)
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the whole sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
” While Newman’s queer hagiography of St Philip Neri offers a model for conduct and private devotion, Dalgairn’s work on Aelred suggests the public, communal potential for cultivating relationships of virginal friendship and using their love and energy to foster monastic harmony and productivity.”
the book?
“Same-Sex Desire in Victorian Religious Culture” by Frederick S. Roden
a book buried under the papers on Leo’s desk
( don’t know Leo? see him here: http://www.bearwww.com/theisen )
i just got here
so don’t have any of my books in the direct vacinity..
but i find it quite appropriate
as it is how i’m feeling at the time
(this place i am now is a franciscan hermitage, and he is a franciscan brother and episcopal priest… and this is actually what i have been wanting…
funny little Meme…)
I want everyone who reads this to ask me three questions, no more no less. Three is the number thou shalt ask, and the number of the questions shall be three. Ask me anything you want. Then I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything.
( i haven’t done this kind of thing yet… but was feeling like fishing in this manner tonight… so… Come On…)
so.
i am home.
second night.
i sit in the chair in front of the fire
having read to him from a book of collected short stories by Thomas Mann
(a tale called “The Will To Happiness” which features a character clinging onto life until he gets all he’s ever desired, and dying just then… as i have noticed so very often… with Tapestry… with countless others… in the tales i have heard recounted from the men of other generations that i have visited… as i am visiting one now.. fearing the same, i change my desires… and feel ill-at-ease here…)
it all feels familiar
frighteningly familiar, instead of comforting
the view from the deck was stunning today
the patina of greens of the valley and hills
the colours of the sky at sunrise and sunset…
i did not sleep well last night
and woke up with a sore throat
similar to the last time i returned here seeking comfort and home
— no rest and illness taking up residence in me…
i pity myself
and know not else what to do.
i am trying to breathe through it;
give it time.
how many have said to me in recent times
“let yourself be loved”
?
and how often had i said it to myself before now?
i know , i know…
there is a softness at my centre i fear
i don’t trust others to be gentle and not hurt me
yet in my recent rushing
i have been so harsh with myself…
i am amazed i am not totally wounded.
my wounds have been made quite fresh, though…
i am hoping this time in this house will give me the peace to listen to them
to lick them clean
and let them heal as they need to
not obscure them and abstract them into crystalis
which makes pretty lights
but is hardly useful for coming into the integrity i desire.
you know, i could talk on and on about this for hours
but tonight i am keeping it short
because i now have months and months to talk about it
and wish to do so with the thoroughness it deserves
i deserve.
mmmmmmmmm
much love to you all
i look forward to getting to know you
now that i am home.
Recent Comments