Month: June 2008

and maybe it was 5 years old when my brother and i would stick our pinkies up eachother’s asses
and maybe it was 7 when i first found my dad’s stack of Playboy magazines hidden under his hunting gear catalogues
and maybe it was 8 when i first felt the joys of my own naked body
and around then i wore my sister’s make-up

but i was at least 10 before i was naked with someone else
and it was playing video games with Jason
in the trailer-park-type “sub-division” thing called “Horse-shoe Drive” (coz it was just a U-shaped road)

we’d nuzzle under a comforter in the closet
where he had his Nintendo set up on a lower shelf
under the cover
we took our pants off
and played the game
and let our butts and thighs touch
jumping into focus on only on the game when his mother or step day (or just mom’s new boy friend?) would “check in” on us

was it also that year i did a similar thing in down town Zionsville with Geoff and his brother?

was it that summer or the next (it must have been 11)
when we had to drain the pond and i had a birthday party where we all ended up naked and covered in mud
and i saw a foreskin for the first time on a friend of mine born with a Naturopathic Doctor for a father
i remember saying “what happened? your dick looks like it got mutilated…”
“no”, he said, “your dick got mutilated”

Yeah. 11. it was 11 when i finally came for the first time (alone)

at this point in my life
my best friend was this kid named “Ted”
i’d already know him a few years
but this was the pinnacle of our friendship

we’d have sleep-overs all the time
his place or mine
but i don’t think he ever came over before we moved into the New House

two more memories from the old house:
one long summer vacation in Michigan
we came back to the house
— did i mention my mother always had cats?
and the neighbors had been feeding and watering them, the cats
but not aware of the flea problem

the fleas were out of control
we walked into the house
all of us started wailing in pain
running around to grab a few things
and i THINK we spent that night and the next in a hotel
while we flea-dipped the cats
and bug-bombed the house:

i remember leaving the house that first night: blood running down our legs
covered with fleas.

&

one winter
we got lots of snow
a huge 12 foot drift against the shed
we dug out a cave
and had adventures in there

later
freezing rains swept through
so fierce it coated the beautiful white birch in front of the house
so heavy
it bent over in a “U” shape and blocked our front door
it stayed that way for two weeks
glistening with a coating of ice
like candy. . .

when it thawed
it was fine: stood right back up

— i got “my own” stray cat
we called him “gold kitty”
and he showed affection by biting you

biting me, sorry
yes
biting me

thank you Gold Kitty
i love you too.

When Ted started coming over to the new house
the first cool thing we did
was decide we were Pagans
— he wasn’t really brought up religious
and his parents JUST got divorced the first year we were friends
we had a rich imaginary life
— we were wizards

but now we were pagans
we knew we needed to find our own god
(really!)
one night
we went out into the field behind the house
and found one of those big sink holes
we put a long board over it
and walked out to the shaky middle of it
bouncing up and down calling “Death!”

our new god was named Death
and he was teaching us telekenisis and mental telepathy

we would go out into the barn and burn candles and make offerings of the mice from the traps

… and we’d play a lot of video games
and dance to Right Said Fred
and Paula Abul (that was my first concert: i went to with him)

but then…
then he showed me Miami Spice (2)
which he stole from his older brother

it was fascinating
we’d just sit there and stare at it

while the muscled hairy guy with the mustache was laying naked on the sun chair (in LA)
some big haired blond cop would jump the wall and put his semi-erect cock in handcuffs

he said “you can’t keep me here, as soon as i get soft i can just slip out and i’ll be free”
she responded “who said i was going to let you get soft?”
and hilarity ensued!

uhhh

near the end of that year
i convinced him to let me take it home with me
and in the privacy of my own TV
which was in the “rec room” or “play room” as i mostly called it
where i had so often worshiped at the Nintendo
i started mimicking that movement of pulling the dick
watching
watching
pulling

until i felt the most awful horrible cramping pulling at me
painful
some strange smell and taste ripping through my senses
and being covered with such thick sticky whiteness

uh…
i ran to the toilet to get gobs and gobs of paper to wipe it up and flush it

a new fascination was born.

what was certainly the most important about my tenth year was
moving into the New House
my dad owned the land for two years before we could move into the house
i’m not sure why. . .
but the year we moved in, as it was getting finished
we’d drive there a lot:
it was about a mile away from the house we’d been living in…

one day
my mother was driving that big brown van
and we left the new property
heading into town the opposite way from which we usually went
driving through the first intersection
a car coming from the other direction ran through his stop sign at about 70 mph
— we didn’t have one

he was in an Imapa
we were in a Full Size Van
i was sitting in the way way back, on the couch
trying to get my shoes on
my brother was in the “captain chair” one row up

neither of us had seat belts on
but somehow
he landed on me…
i flew through the air and crumpled below my mother’s chair
my sister was in the front passenger chair and she and my mother had their belts on

the experience was like waking up from a dream
it was so traumatizing that we all passed out
and i had vague memories of trying to put my shoes on
and driving through a corn field

obviously that doesn’t happen

i woke up first
pushed my brother off me
and opened the door
i looked at my mother up front
and the window was splattered with blood

everyone was silent
so i guessed they must be dead

i guessed i was dead too

so i walked up the muddy tire gashes in the field, past the tall brown stalks of corn
back to the intersection

the old man was bloody and his head was hanging out the window

i crossed the street, not bothering to look
and climbed up the little embankment:
fortunately there was a cemetery there
so i jumped up on a wide grave stone and lay back on it

here i am: Dead.

well… not really
i woke up, again, to the paramedics asking me if i was OK
i said “no”
they asked me about every part of my body and if it hurt
i said “yes”
so i got to go to the emergency room with my mother
but i was fine: nothing wrong with me

my mother had smashed the driver’s window with her head
and had glass under her scalp
but was pretty OK
my brother had sprained his neck or something
my sister cut her throat on her seat belt

it was strange to be in the hospital
i’d only ever been in once before to get a hernia operation when i was 7 (right… or 3 or 4 or 6, i dunno)
and that had left me unable to move for nearly two weeks
this time was easy: once the shock shook off me
i was alive and kicking the very same day. . .
but it certainly changed the way i felt about cars.

we took lots of trips when i was a kid
and i always had a strong sense of “coming home”
— i could sleep better there… and knew my “Place”
but when we moved into the new house
i never again felt “at home”
everything felt odd and wrong to me
…it was nice, i suppose, having my own room now
but it seemed so bland
— i’ve always had the feeling of “new” things being too clean and lifeless
i like Lived In things…

there were many set backs on building the house
i took to referring to as the “Barbie Dream House”
because it had so many nonsensical architecture styles together
and seemed so badly built as if it were made of plastic
but the house was HUGE
and on 9 acres of old hay fields
that we then set about landscaping into a more “suburban” look
(as my dad grew up in the suburbs of Detroit)
… 9 acres is a lot to landscape.

on the land was an old barn (how old? i’ll never know)
but it was mostly filled with hay
(we’d push them around and create tunnels, secret rooms)
and had a thick rope hanging from the top cross-beams
we would climb a mountain of hay bales
then jump off, swinging out through the barn

i even loved enjoying my body climbing up. . .

i was miserable at sports
hated competition
but loved doing things with my body

through my whole life
my father pushed both my brother and i into sports
i was awkward, shy and insecure
and i shyed away from competition
because i didn’t like being the loser… nor did i like making others the loser
— it never seemed like Good Clean Fun to me
by the time i was ten
i had so badly failed at Football, Soccer, Basketball and Baseball (all the good American Sports)
that my father started to give up on me

it took me years and years to be able to see this
but it was in this period where both my father and i developed a relationship of
Trying to Please one another
— we were both really bad at doing what made the other happy
so we’d fail miserably
and then resent the other for not being pleased
and resent ourselves for being so bad and what we thought we should be able to do well
Namely: being a Father and being a Son

at age 10 i had really given up on my father
and it made me more free…

i dropped competitive sports for a bit and started Tae Kwon Do
— this was a huge change in my life
because it stopped me from feeling like a victim
placed my power back in myself
-it’s where i started stretching and simply daily self-health
like pushups and meditation (yes, even then)
Also, my teach told us we should always call any man we respect “Sir”
so we and he knows that we respect Him and are putting ourselves below Him
in order to receive his teachings

i really liked this idea
not because i wanted to be submissive, not at all
but because i wanted to learn from someone who was genuinely competent and excellent.
(years later, the older gay men i would start friendships with would always freak out when i called them “Sir” — i’d try to explain, but…)

Also, this year
my brother and i stayed with my Godfather and his wife for two weeks
(these were my favourite Aunt and Uncle)
it was the longest we’d been away from our parents
shortly before i turned 10
i noticed i was getting fat
(everyone in my family was fat, so it wasn’t a big deal)
i looked down one day in the shower and realized my belly was getting so fat i could no longer see my penis
and i realized i had to do something

instead of stopping eating so much and doing nothing but playing Nintendo all the time
i just became more aware of when enough food was enough
and taking breaks to walk and stretch and do pushups
the Tae Kwon Do came right in time. . .

but up at my Aunt’s
we learned how to pour beer without a head
she had a keg in her fridge downstairs
(year’s later she would join AA and i mourned the loss of her jovial personality… of course, being her nephew and not her husband or kids i never saw her extremes of drunken rage and hang overs… good for her she got it under control)

anyway
she was appalled at how all we ever did was play Nintendo
and we never read books
but our father told us Books were for Sissies!
(later understood he’s severely dyslexic and probably came up with that one for protection)
so she locked us in separate rooms of her house for hours a day
with stacks of books
“you don’t have to read: but that’s all you CAN do”

so i did
Hardy boys, i think it was
not so great stories
but i loved escaping into another reality

when i went back to school that year
i started skipping lunch to read Greek Myths in the library
then go into fantasy novels
(and my father gave up all hope in me)

but before we leave behind entirely that little house in the cornfields
what about the other little things i’ve forgotten to mention?

like playing in the cornfields for hours every summer
bored and disgruntled at times
picking hard ears
and throwing them at the passing cars

going to explore the empty farm houses around there
through the broken glass
and rotten boards. . .
everything in decay

why did this happen to the building?
where is the family that used to live here?
Neil stepped on a nail that went clear through his foot…

and playing with one of the boys who lived further down the road
past the edge of the corn field
with some horses in pasture…
one year they got a Colt
who was very feisty and would chase us around
(we’d keep near the fence)

but there are sink-holes in the ground
for some reason. . .
and there were a few in that horse field
— we’d run for them and jump down in them
the colt would snort
and try to reach down to bite our hair
— the older boy, Peter, would talk about girls
we’d listen, entranced..
somewhere secret
somewhere dangerous
with stories from the future
glimpses of a life we might later know…

What, specifically happened when i was 9?

( i just got off the phone and a conversation with her reminded me of other facets i wanted to expose that aren’t necessarily on the 9th year)

Maybe that was the year my sister got a Make-Up kit for her birthday in September
and i started playing with it
and did up my eyes and lips and finger nails
and got on my bike and rode down to Neil’s house where he and my brother were playing basketball

Louis said to me:
You better go home and take that off your face before we beat you up and take it off ourselves.

…
i was just telling my mother that i was very confused about being a human
what would make so many people call me “an old soul” in my teen-age years
made my childhood a living hell

i didn’t understand people at all
i didn’t trust anyone

those people i called my “friends”
would sometimes just turn on my and do violent and shaming things to me in front of other people
they loved beating me up and berating me in public

for many years
people i didn’t even know would spit on me and punch me and kick me
because they say “my friends” doing it
my brother
my neighbors

i didn’t even trust my parents
because i was born with this idea that they were completely honest and in integrity
yet i would ask them when i would develope the capacity for hearing people’s thoughts and feelings like they could
and they (mother, father, other adults) would say “Honey, no one can hear your thoughts and feelings… that doesn’t happen”
but i could clearly see people responding to my un-expressed internal experiences
… so why were they lying to me?
what were they hiding?

when people blew up and threw huge fits
dramas
deceits
i was utterly confused

i took to watching people’s facial expressions
and intricately copying them
following their speech patterns and intonations
so i, too, could respond to situations with shock, horror, surprise, humor, pity, love
all of these things i had no concept of truly understand
and i certainly didn’t “feel” them, as they referred to it

i think this is why i perceived so many people as “hating me”
because i was faking everything

i so desperately wanted to belong
to be like other people
and they could tell i was just a bad actor

but i don’t think i was aware of this yet, at 9
i was too much in the midst of it

i was still at the point of being confused when people expected me to say “Please” and “Thank You”
or “I’m Sorry”
because, without even fully understanding this, I believed that we were all in it together. we were all one. all in the same family… or compunity… or some relation. what would be called loving and supportive
why would i ever have to appologize or beg for pity and forgiveness? why would i ever need to make a verbal show of gratitude? weren’t they doing what they were doing because they loved me and knew that i loved them and the joy of experiencing these things together were enough?

No
i was in a fucking desert
and watching the garden of eden wither in front of me
beasts in all the shadows
and a million scared monsters echoing the supposed voice of the angels who told us we were all wrong and bad and born of sin

whatever
i just wanted to leave
that’s all i knew

still
i didn’t understand the ramifications of that until the year before when my Aunt Mary Ellen died
— as far as i know
i only really spent time with her once
she was my Mother’s Mother’s Sister (in law? i don’t even know)
i spent a very pleasant afternoon at her house, running up and down her hill
swinging from her big beautiful tree
drinking tea and eating cookies

a few days
or weeks
or months later
she died
and we went to her funeral
— first death of my life
and i was amazed with the whole concept of no longer being able to spend time with someone
never being able to share tea and cookies with them again
hear their voice. . .

one of my mother’s favourite songs (or at least i heard it a lot)
was Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand singing “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore”
— i listened to it on my walkman over and over and over on the 5 hour car trip home (we sometimes went up and back from Michigan more than once a month)
it was the perfect example Love being Finite
i cried for a week
and listened to that song

people kept saying
‘she’s not in pain anymore, she’s in a better place, oh don’t be sad honey”

and eventually
i understood what they meant
and then for years later
i was, again, confused why everyone was crying at funerals
— i got over that when i was 8

(it was, yet again, one of those things where people say something but it’s not real…they don’t really feel it or believe it… or yet, have to create a drama besides the truth of the peaceful reality of the situation: normal human stuff)

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However long it took…
we’re here with the other tourists on this island of Wolf Swamp.
We walked this Way for all of our fellow….
ah,
…

Thank you for those who walked with us
his hip
my thighs
are taking a break now

onto St John’s place in Brooklyn to drink some beer…

Now: where do we catch the Brooklyn Ferry?

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I was resting on a standpipe at White st while Dust bought some photo
paper
a little stooped Iralian man said
“that’s a nice hat”
– a friend gave it to me to use today: I’m walking the whole length of
Broadway, I replied
“he cares about you a lot”
he said, smiling, eyes twinkling
“you’re a strong man… in this heat… that’s a nice hat”
and shuffled up the way…

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I used to eat here all the time…
in 1997

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starting out in Marble Hill