.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

I hate being late
really late
really really really
hate being late

what is it?

it mostly has something to do with sex obsession
(I think)

I have been relatively low on sex drive since returning from CA
but yesterday I got off four times
stayed up very late as well (including the fourth one)

woke up early this morning
and it was the first thing I did

hours late leaving the house anyway
missed something I wanted to do:
left an hour after I wanted to be there

I’m even late for my next appointment: arrived as the train was pulling away
(which often happens when I’m late)

of course
I was also lost in other Internet/computer holes last night…

…
the sex obsession isn’t the cause
it’s another symptom

so should I assume my standard sickness has returned? on the day I arrived at 33…

I know what’s good for me
simple, base things
sleeping. eating. yoga/excersize.
nourishing myself.
rampant masturbation and endless Internet sifting (or video-solitare playing) is just depleting
just.
it’s entertaining, it’s fun I guess
but it’s lame and wasteful
foolish
it depletes my Self
as well as my relationships
(where it connects to lateness)

why?
Death Urge?
Fear of Living…
Fear of struggling, surviving, Loving, creating
simple as that?
death-sex instead of life-sex
Thanantotic Onanism instead of Erotic Collaboration

why?
how to divert it?
am I prolonging my life by enfolding my death?
actions of the dead to take up the living time I am not meant to have?
meant?
I’m mining for meaning here
I ate oil as well so I’m chasing rabbits
but when I wasn’t in…
oh, I was going to say I wasn’t in such a pattern in CA
but I was
all my death and his death
too much death
it was just less sexual
less pleasurable

the pleasure is good
but too good
rotting my life!

at least I ate well today
but what
how do I control myself
and why this crazzy relapse now?
I’ve been feeling much more calm and centered til yesterday
(have I?)

I imagine a stable self
a creative self
an enlightened self who can make choices and direct action

how do I sculpt him from this rough ore?

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

"you are Radiant"

message received in under a minute

why such a strong simple impression?
collaboration:
I took the picture
while he was talking and looking at me

have I learned anything?
everyone old is new again

shuffle keeps playing Pulp’s "Bad Cover Version"
and it continues in my head
sharing space with the Ink Spots, Flamingos, and Johnny Mathis

Tony said I’m such a romantic…

yet I keep at arm’s length those who pour love at me
and yearn for the difficult

pulk/pull

um
referencing music doesn’t say what I mean to say
all my understandings through the years punctuated by songs…

and what if that’s the good bits: all the personal bits
the anecdotes
that tell my story
explain my view
and how I came to see things this way

but I don’t know when I started
I can’t remember…
or I haven’t tried?
if I braid all my loose threads
can I climb back up the tower to my beloved long haired wife who’s the essence of all my secrets?

either way
the process is endless
there is no completing

T said
"what happens after 33? why not 33.365?"
but the circle only has 360°
and the math doesn’t work out

what was that old quote…?
"Time isn’t true, the circle is not round"
Before The Rain…

I don’t remember my name
I can’t try and figure out the proper pronunciation forever

don’t ?
can’t ?
Human Words.

mmmm, Melekin

it’s what I’m doing
That’s what I do
my essential eternal task:
pronounce the name of Hashem
remember my every face

not to do it for everyone else
but for myself

it must be done anyway
the multitude of fragments are all knitted

I’ll learn! I’ll learn!
I have the tearing fingers
and the synthesizing heart!

I have the sword of Zain
I have the wand of Zion

on with it
tomorrow
and every other day
til I can sing right through

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

oh
imagine an Editor
we’d take long walks
through my rambling writing
sHe’d understand me
but also the world’s psyche
and be able to sift out all of my writings that people can connect with
sculpting my stream of drool into something universally beautiful
oh, imagine an editor…

imagine anything!
specific, specific
"anything is the enemy of Art"
oh.
my ideas of future
my ideas of Lover
ah
guru, home, loving, money
balance! family! AH!

ah.

I’m amazed at all of the details I remember
my writing
from seven years ago
reading it
I was scribbling on the page inane details that I must somehow work in
how could I have left them out?

how could I ever tell all the story?

the idea came to me again
the idea I first had many years ago
the book has to be a multimedia book
only now is it readily possible
all of these various ebook readers
allowing text, hyperlinking, video&music (or audio)

I still like the idea of writing a fresh face
something with cohesion and narrative
(which my journalling lacks)
and have every story and character hyperlinked and indexed…
for years I’ve wanted to write character files of all the people I know

I have so many ideas!
if only I weren’t so busy living life!
(even when I’m not I cannot focus…)

oh but…
friends… family… community…
I’m trying to reach you
these ego’s walls are though thick…

what?
someone crazy is screaming outside my window
and I am passing out

I must let myself sleep

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

I’m catching up with myself(!)

what’s it like
having a lover?
a stern lover that holds you only to utter sincerity
no saccharine sentimentality allowed
no room for mediocrity
no space for distracted bad moods

then he says
"I’ll take whatever you can give me, I’ll accept any crumbs…"

so you dole them out
as if to feed the birds

what’s it like
to wear his shirt
like a hug
or a friend
with me at every shift of fabric
even hours away

the sun set
falling stars
digital approximations of 78s

if I am not someone who falls in love
or wants to need
when they drape their bodies all over each other
I stand stolid
barefoot in the sand

what then?
what then?

there is too much space between the visible stars
we need lines
to live in constellations

——-

ah,
I started my first attempt at editing my journal today
I printed out nine volumes of this text
first book
starting January 17, 2004
reading a week into it was too much
surprises at all the connections…
the viscera I could dress up my sparse lines in
even now I have learned to write even sparser
will I be able to look at this in ten years and know anything around what I was talking about?
uhhhh, I was heart-heavy
head-spun

how can I possibly read through this life and make sense of it?

FRIENDS! HELP!
dig me out of my life
help me build a ship out of it to go sailing
I fear I cannot do it on my own!

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

I remembered
the reason I want a lover
sometime in the future
is to give me hope
something to work for

my first boy friend I lived with
our love made me want to be a better person
to be with him

i want to purify and perfect myself for the beloved

(who loves me anyway)

singing and toning in the steam room while stoned was beautiful and blissful

the party yesterday gave me a nostalgic memory for a desire I used to have: the gay dads who I could go live with and everything would be better…
to be a nymph running in their garden
to please them with my massage
to lay naked in bed with them…
fantasy

I was in a very touchy mood
touching most of the men there a lot
stroking, massaging
the oldest man had a young Mexican lover who sent waves of disapproval/jealousy towards me
I feel the same towards him
imagining him hustling them
of course: I being the more pure
(but who’s to say)
I followed a feeling I often get about boys who take advantage of daddies (of course those daddies know what’s going on: they give all they can to keep the boy around)
distrusting boys who are with daddies but Are Also attracted to boys
because my sexuality isn’t like that I suspect them of deception (they may just have more channels than I)
and lump that feeling in with a joke I made about "sexual predators" :
like the mythical man stalking innocent children
I’m a youthful man hunting innocent geriatric hotties
who know not their beauty
I seek to take advantage of their tender wizened flesh and well used genitals…

the boys hunting the daddy meat
the daddies hunting the boy meat
hunting: I like hunting

but I continually fall back into the frailty of my desires:
I am impure now
contain more death potential than ever before
increasing every day
how can I be clean again? to be taken and born and raised again?
that chapter must be over
it has to be
that’s innocence lost
why are those dreams still there?
perhaps like the dream of ever having a lover
or a comfortable home:
ideals towards working for
that will never be fully achieved
imperfect life always motivated in refinement
ideal forever ahead, no matter how much work…
oh, the tiredness and struggle
… easy and clean and simple also such a myth…

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

have you ever been afraid to relax
because you might fall apart?
that’s how I’m feeling

I tested positive for Lyme’s Disease… a few weeks ago! I’ve been taking antibiotics that have made me nauseous and flushed… but I’ve been doing OK
I’ve also been sleep deprived for days and days
I woke up today at 7:20
went to the beach
swam in the ocean
sat under an umbrella, kinda sulky I couldn’t enjoy laying in the sun because of the photosensitivity from the antibiotics
still got a bit of a sunburn
came back and napped for three hours
then went out to a party
beautiful house
magical garden
sweet older gay men
I felt right at home and just wanted to live here

old dreams…

but I ate too much and feel exhausted and achey
too much food or sun?

ah, zo
goodnight…

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

I love watching the sun set
even though I know it’s just the earth rolling along
turning away from the light
all movement relative
we’re the ones doing the action
the sun is Being
all else in relationship to it

yeah
sometimes I want to see through the sun
say "I’m no longer impressed with his spectacle"
the hollow sky

sometimes I love the guru
knowing someone has done something in an aspect of reality I only dream about
– they say that’s better than most
I dream about it
I have s concept of it
how many do?-
believing, feeling
them walking behind the walls
stepping through the curtains
her eyes so bright
the light from the sun
the sun through the heart
the heart of the eternity

sometimes I want to dance in joy and appreciate all the all
the suffering
fatness
food
and shit

sometimes
often
I want the veil to drop
all of our bodies fluttering away
putting away The Mirror
turning out the light
jumping out the window
flying into the night
swallowed in the infinite
reborn as an egg

or could I only go to zygoat
or would I have to go to nil

?

?
?

sometimes I want the whole show to be over
but I’m too exhausted from the spectacle right now to be bothered
articulate
easier to annihilate in sleep
in sleep
and be grateful in the morning to find all the gears still turning
walking unhesitantly into the day
wondering what beautiful scraps I can weave into the tapestry

.
:x:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

errrrrrr, Gotcha.

little love affairs
condemned as I am to life
obsessed with bulge
but moved by kisses
conversation
and textiles

the lights were beautiful tonight
the sky put on its show
he was quiet

fate
interpreted
dictates Action
deliberation required for the foto projects
the arrangements of words are tied up with too much life complexity

let the right one slip in
and open doors

gigantic men
in code-name "23"
or painters with oaffish voices
who let me rub his belly
to read my cards

all went well tonight
ah, something actual I remember
almost out of time

busy with someone else
then distracted by the body
neglecting caring for my ownself
back lash of nourishing
crab-crab day
sandwich
email from the Wild
a short path into unbridled lust
and was too late
and missed my practice

but got the food for the entertaining party
though the threatened famous people did not arrive
the family selection was much more pleasant
– another birthday party

the gifts are us

my anxiety about lateness is infuriating
I must tackle such little obstacles
why waste opportunities?

argh
obliterated by tiredness
well…

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

everyone’s life is messy

writing about people I’m getting to know
writing about my own life
seeing people
thinking of people

there are so many troubles…
everyones’ lives are messy…

fear
sadness
compassion

I keep saying I no longer want to fix/heal/help people
but that’s just my line
I’m trying to change
and I’ve been trying to learn for Years not to try and "help" someone unless they ask
but I just don’t want to care
don’t want to be invested in caring about people recovering
surviving
cleaning up their mess

my apartment is a mess!
my emotions are a mess!
my life is a mess!

… none of this is True

why am I always trying to find ways to disengage?

ugh
I want to avoid avoidance
I want to be present all the time
except when I’m sleeping

I’m scared and in pain
how True is that?

Everyone is scared and in pain.

do I feel like this just because I just had sex with someone who’s scared and in pain?
absorbed more than his testosterone?

no
that play last night
and my conversation with my friend the night before
and memories and thoughts
and hopes and dreams
and MotherFucker I don’t want to feel like this
and that guy’s bulging eyes, right over my shoulder
and the homeless guys loud in my ears
and the hounds of love
and all I cannot love
because I’m scared

maybe I’m avoiding sex because I don’t want to feel
coz I feel so scared

maybe it’s good and I should avoid it more
(oh, that obviously works, look at Larry Kramer)

argh!
sorry.

scared=angry
scared=meek
scared=worried silly

I’m doing better than I fear

that probably goes for most areas of my life

sometimes it’s easier to feel safe in the dark
sometimes it’s not

not a metaphor for anything
or everything

I did come up to a good understanding about the virus idea:
they aren’t communicated
they are always present
(like DMT, like Candida)
they become activated

like
eating too much meat causes the body to produce less testosterone
not just in you
but your offspring
body saying "whoa buddy! getting a bit too aggressive there! chill! eat some grass and beans and shit! leave the other beings bodies alone for a while! cool it!"

like two days a week of only being
– I was going to say "on this plane"
– I was going to say "without electronics"
– I meant being present to people in immediate reality more than the iPhone, computer or even books… but should I also wish to use those times to trip out through nature or internal realms… that is also probably a good idea to let myself do. free of the Devices…
but does that mean I can’t photograph?
or should I get a film camera?
(yes)
and a paper journal?
mmmm, only at home alone.
emails?
phone calls?
hmmmm

I need to watch people interact more than just on the subway
where they are caged and oxygen deprived

I wrote the first half of this this morning
and the second half at 3:33 before going to sleep

mars is slow to approach
but long lasting

the picture I took for my mother around 6pm
I was on the phone with her at the time
she got a new phone that receives picture texts…
it’s the only picture I took of myself today

onto dreaming: I hope I sleep long

:;:
:’:
:*:
:+:
:":
:^:
:=:
:•:
:-:
:|:
:~:
:/:
::
❗
:,:
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

saw some angels today

girl on my platform belting out "Ma vie en rose"

doctors
and health care professions who are my friends

me

and pictures I took of a friend yesterday

emails I sent out last night and received a reply to this morning

kids I always thought were crazy
who are crazy
but impassioned

and me
and a friend
and a crazy fucking radical asshole
(who got his play restaged! FUCK! last night’s play filled me with inspiration and understanding… tonight’s play just made me want to fucking give up the ghost)

so
a friend
and a homeless guy
who looked me in the eyes
and told me I was the director
the guide

ah
a friend
and me

I’m free
free to choose

but I’m loved
and you want me here
and when I do finally have to leave
I’m going to come back
again
because I am loved
and you want me here

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

more important things to remember:

everyone is living in a different reality
in order to interact we have to know our own and build understandings (or operate on assumptions/archetypes) of the people we live around
but how exciting and difficult!
to test limits of being and feel the ping of their reply!

dangerous and sad
so rare do we get to have a real dynamic connection with people where we can flux and change with them

better to experience them
when they’re Sure

but
but
I’m getting at Respect:
no matter how "crazy" or "wrong" someone’s world is
to be able to see it and understand it and feel it…
being a part of it or grazing over it
it’s a gift

Ha!
that’s why we like Theater and Film
to watch people being pierced by other people
beautiful, dramatic, dangerous
wanting from eachother
asking in their humble confused ways
only clear because we’re outside looking in…

Ah
to be Outside…
Oh
to Be In

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

keep on doing it

the mugwort’s been burning

I got massaged by an angel for a few hours
and the singing bowls
and the smudging

if I’m talking about what I’m doing
sometimes I remember
sometimes I burst into song
I talk/write to understand
(those these writings are often to recount… they still end up being enlightening. for me)

I have been on a path for these last few years
here
living in the city
living someplace
in my place
here

when I was a nomad
I certainly appreciated on the kindness of strangers
but I was my only dependent
I always felt I had to take care of myself
down to the smallest detail

a big effort in being here was to allow myself to get past Square One
– home. food. health.
I used to say NYC is a gigantic life support system
and it is
and it loves me
and part of this path
this meditation
is letting it love me
letting it take care of me
the difficult part
is losing my ability to do it all myself
so the world really can support me

it’s a trust exercise
you really have to let go and fall backwards to let someone really catch you
and sometimes you have to donut over and over until you get it

Trust
that’s still part of Square One…
we’re working on it

again, I’m grateful

.
:.: