2nd Jewish man who’s x-wife is named Barbara
well, not really, one wife is x… the other is Dead.
different
very different
too reductionist
Visitors
Last night i watched “Man on the Moon”
continuing my “Jimmy-Carrey, but not that way” Marathon
it brought up a lot of Stuff.
Andy Kaufman thought it was really funny… and not only that, but Necessary
to fuck up the world
bring it down around his ears
he did it through performance art and… Comedy
until all of the hate/aggrivation/negative energy that he generated
came back and gave him cancer and killed him
Once upon a time
i was very angry at the world for… (etc..)
at the age of 19
all of the yoga and drugs i was doing
imagination
friends
i was getting really high
and crazy
i was summoning lots of power
personal power
understanding what i means to get to “Christ Consciousness” or “Universal Consciousness”
i worked myself there every day
of course
not connected to my heart directly or anything
and the higher i got
the faster everything i imagined and feared came to manifest
to the point where i had long-since lost control
and was fearful for the world and myself
coz some immature part of myself wanted to destroy the entirety of existance
and the other face of me didn’t understand that, completely
but was giving free artistic liscence
on a smaller scale
it hit me the same way
that which i put out
(mmmm, destroying the world)
was being given back to me
the entities i talked to while i was on LSD out in the desert told me pretty clearly…
“honey, we understand why you want to do this.. but that’s not what being here is about…
you have to work with the game, sweetie
if you just try and destroy everything
we’re not going to play along
coz WE don’t want to destroy ourselves
so you’re just going to be left out in the cold and atrophy on your own”
i would SIGH
i just wanted REST
i wanted REST on the GOD level
if everything dissolved into Chaos
the entire memory of the history of our world would be scattered
and it would be an unmesurable eternity until something brought it back together again
AHHHHH, SLEEP!
ok
i DID listen
and i learned
and that’s just NOT ok
it’s better to grab the great beam of life in yr hands (shooting through your heart, see?)
and perhaps bend it ever so slightly…
it helps..
but love, honey, not too much chaos…
Anyway
this all comes flooding back to me watching this Andy Kaufman story
and i have this Visitor here
he’s Taurus too
and he Jewish
and he’s a Rabbi of reconstructive Jewanity (wow, where’s my mind?)
blessings as blessings be
we go to light a fire
and i ask him to take a journey with me
he aggrees
and i tell him everything
asking him to watch me closely
to point out where the flaws are
(i used to do this all the time with my teen age friends… but we have foresaken eachother… so i’ve been missing this game — consistant readers of this journal will have noticed the post about this a few weeks ago)
he listens
and he finds the big snag
(which resonates which other things i’ve been writing about… yesterday, even)
: i don’t believe in love anymore.
Well
not the kind of love i need.
that is
i have always wanted a lover that will do the work with me
the existential/emotional/magical/sexual/physical/philosphical work
the listening, the talking, the journeying, the re-creation
but i’ve not seen relationships where that happens
and have never had a lover who really wanted to do that
(sure, i’ve found some that would SAY they would… but they didn’t… and i’ve had some that would try… but backed out or freaked out… )
i need someone as strong as me.. and stronger (sometimes)
i guess i just broke my heart too many times on this ideal hope
and seared my self against it
but it is neccessary for my survival to believe in such Impossible things
anyone who knows me has heard me say my goals consist of such things as
learning to fly while i’m awake
(in dreams i just lift off…)
and walking ley lines… being a wizard, etc…
where are the teachers?
i won’der if my crowlyite friends know?
no.
among these impossibilities
i must keep my heart whole and pure
and my standards high
know, i love anyone and everyone, really
especially if we can connect
but will never give my heart over as a Husband or Partner or whatever
unless we can take eachother’s hands and lift off the ground and sail to the moon
… ney, Soar through the stars.
”
now tell me
wouldn’t it be nice
that if one day in paradise
i’d sing for all the ladies up there
and they would sing along with me
and we so happy then would be
coz Down Below is really nowhere
my name would then be Jupiter
and i would know where i was going
become all-knowing
my beard so very long and Flowing
if i could play Deaf-Dumb and Blind
because i pittied all man-kind
and broke my heart to make things right
i know that every single night
when my angelic work was through
the angels and the devils too
would sing my childhood song to me
about the time they called me Jacky
if i could be
for only an hour
if i could be for an hour every day
if i could be
for just one little hour
Cute
in a stupid-ass way…
”
— Marc Almond singing “Jacky” by Jacques Brel
”
i want so badly to Believe
that there is Truth
and Love is real
and i want Life in every Word
to the extent that it’s Absurd
”
— Ben Gibbard in “Clarke Gable” by the Postal Service

he moved his hands over my body
stopping over my heart
“you’ve got a cold spot there”
the massage set out to be an hour and a half
but when i’d given him one two weeks before
i worked for three hours…
so… so did he.
when i walked to his house that morning
the sky was clear and bright
leaving his house nearly four hours later
the sky had turned heavy
not really dark
but so thick
grey
with lots of silver
it just felt odd..
i walked into the castro
and made a phone call
there’s this guy i’ve been meaning to see
and as it happens
he lived pretty close to where my newest obsession is…
i remember talking about him on the couch:
‘ oh fuck, he’s not a Leo is he? what’s his birthday ‘
“i don’t know… oh, no… i do: sometime in February..”
‘ PHEW ‘
but he’s got it anyway
(as only dreams can)
to make me want to be so real for him
to make me want to dig him up and sling him into the air
and fly around with him
playing in the tree tops
exploding in the night sky
We got to the Dickens Fair about an hour and a half before it closed
the massage had left my body feeling so powerful and vulnerable and weak
— Paul had lifted my shoulderblades off of my body and hung them from the ceiling
“you’ve got the most flexible shoulders of anyone i’ve ever worked on… it’s amazing… you’r shoulder is coming right off your body”
‘that’s coz they’re not blades… they’re wings’
he put them on a spit and turned them
something underneath keeping it warm
my body heaved with a little shriek
and i started coughing profusely
The Dickens Fair smelled like heaven
like every child’s ideal memory of the beauty and joy of Christmas (forget about the rest)
i felt like i was in England
i felt like i was in Germany, in Cologne, before the BearenNacht, with Yacov
walking around the town square
eating dense cakes and drinking mulled wine
‘ where’s the mulled wine? ‘
i asked to myself and the giant 6’8″ man standing next to me
he didn’t know
but he saw the hot buttered rum
and we went
… that and a hot toddy…
what is this place?
i feel like i should be on stage
i want to cry
where’s robert?
where’s my costume?
i want to dance at Fezziwig’s
where’s my lover?
i wandered through the brilliant smells
bad accents
beautiful facial hair
and men with long manes
damn, couldn’t i live..
Tim (the giant) followed behind me
as i flew through
lost in the memories and feelings
wishing i were dressed properly to be in the moment
how would i get there?
i’m outside of all this in my ’70s leather jacket and leather shirt and courderoys and red-wing steel-toed leather boots
heavy boots
keeping me on the ground
eat step pulls me back down
belly big
rolling through the crowd
where’s my lover?
Someone who looked like Robert
but with two big braids
went walking by
i turned quickly to follow
stopped and said so to Tim
‘ he looked like an old lover of mine ‘
” i’m sure he wasn’t… if he were, he would have stopped… Don’t you think?”
‘ i’m not so sure… ‘
i followed him til i heard him speak
and it wasn’t…
where’s my lover?
what’s this feeling?
i certainly haven’t been getting fucked much
but i’ve been spending lots of time with my body and emotions lately
‘ when my heart opens wide Life becomes more vivid.. i can taste everything… the colours all have meanings… and when i come down.. my heart hurts… a physical pain in my chest ‘
” i understand the rest, but not the part about hurt… ”
said the newest interesting spiritual jewish man i was meeting
while i drove him through the windy dark mountian roads
to the hermitage
i lost Tim somewhere in the saw dust and crowds
i walked into a Haberdashery
a whole display of glass fountain pens
what?
amazing
this one?
oh…
one made in Mexico
big and clunky
the other in Italy, Merano
some island near Venice where all the glass is made
“these are Aventurine glass”
‘ i only know that as a stone.. ‘
“the gold at the tip there, that’s the Aventurine.. the crush it up into the glass”
‘ yes… ‘ and imagine how wonderful it would be to write with that?
only $20! so many places would like me to drop my money here
here
here
here i am happy to
stories
and eruptions of anger
i paid and walked out from the bickering friends in period clothing
where’s my lover?
maybe it’s getting back to where it used to be
am i a virgin again?
it’s about making love
and when he said he was going to keep fucking me til i popped out a baby…
Dad?
where’s my lover?
i came here to find…
Robert walked by
: it’s not him
he’s just in all the costumes and bad accents
and scents…
look at the way his hips role
past the band
the second band
the greek resturant
the japanese puzzleboxes
— we can’t figure out how to get out
back in the main square
apple-cinamon spice
a cast of characters had assembled to perform
and there he was
back behind the rest
up against the wall
head freshly shaven
stache and beard highlighted darkly by the three piece suit
memories of my lover at the age of 17
art teacher in england
always these suits
stout little man
the belly
his eyes catch mine and he nods
i can’t speak
he doesn’t act like he wants to speak
he’s in character to prepare for his play
i’m too bashful
but it’s important he’s seen me
here
to see him
apart from the other people i watch him acting
playing are roles
i turn to Tim
‘ he likes playing the bad guy… always fun to be Evil… ‘
i don’t believe in evil
i’m trying to understand love
as he screams at a pennyless old beggar who’s laughing at him
and runs past me with stress and anger
affected, of course
it’s a play
or anything as real
i saw him
and like my lover
just seeing him from a far made me proud that i loved him
made me proud that i had touched him
that i had put a smile on his face
that i had been here, and he had seen me, and he knew i would do this for him
i’ve done nothing
glass pen
we left the sawdust and facial hair and mulled wine behind us
obsession
a gift from the heart
” it’s cold ”
closed when not around its flame
the game of love
dominance
subserviance
no
giving
worship
it was so much easier with those cats
to please
to please
“you know, he’s married, Steve’s his Husband”
i cringe, i hate words like that
i never believe in not being able to love someone
just because someone else does
i had five windows open on my computer searching for him when i came to write this
and it doesn’t even matter if i don’t see him again
this love
this obsession
this is for me
even when i’ve shared it with my lover
it certainly didn’t bring us together
though i don’t know what else to do
but be a boy with him
sometimes a man
sometimes a woman
but these prizes i should keep to myself
i scare my objects of desire into Nihlism, don’t i, babe?
the most import part of my existance i cannot share
i experience it alone
in my own vivid reality
waiting for the walls to come down
so someone else can play these games with me

i’m always happy to talk
so long as i have a good conversation partner…
i suppose that’s true of any interraction i have…
i don’t want it to be like twister
someone calling out confusing motions we are meant to attempt
dispite and cross eachother
i like it when it’s contact-improv
when we’re acrobats
high-wire
or on the backs of lions
performing for the crowd
which may just be us
anyway
i learn a lot from this
to me
it is Living
being that i translate most of living through my brain anyway
(and that which i don’t translate through my brain very rarely gets OUT of me… unless someone subtle enough hears my rolls and waves of feelings)
since i woke up many years ago
i’ve noticed that conversations are what teach me most
doing massage is what teaches me massage
having sex is what teached me love making
talking about existential stuff
teaches me more about living
placates my worries
gives me new avenues to explore…
gemini: only valid when in relationship
conversation partner: to feed and nourish.
i came down to SF again on wednesday
and met up with someone i’d talked with on the internet for many months
so
OK
now was our time to meet
he’s a young guy, 32
we stayed in the Westin St. Francis
(from one hermitage to another, eh?)
and mostly had conversation
we had a great conversation flow..
ah… Virgo…
the main medicine i got were these
(and this came from me Saying these things… though i don’t often take personal credit for these revelations… they channel through me and if i’m not too busy talking to listen and understand my own voice… i learn a lot)
:
everyone has a few lives in their life.
we work really hard to be or do something for whatever reason
we build the foundations
and ride the tracks
but most people, that i’ve seen at least, come to a metamorphoses point
where they fly
or swim
or walk
or stumble…
but it’s not necessarily a pre-meditated life change that causes this
just a “mmmm, i really need to change”
and the doors opening up out into the world.
i’ve been freaking out…
how have i been describing it?
‘ i’m under the fall Pressure ‘
(it happens every autumn)
not exactly depression
but that unhappiness i was talking about?
just coming from all sides
>> is your life really how you want it to be right now?<<
' NO! '
it feels very immediate and kinda painful
but this conversation medicine quelled it a bit
reminded me that i'm process of changing
and i've been a success
and i'll do this a while longer, i feel
but i'm in process
the orders are out
the angels and deamons have been called
the new scenes are being painted
and we're all excited to hear the new score.
alright
the second thing was
"languages of affection"
this i'll jog around a moment:
last night i did a porn shoot
my first
and probably my last
it was very hard for me to get into it
i was camera shy, i guess
or it was just really hard for me to be turned on in the setting
as sex to me is usually about connecting
and making people feel wonderful..
while i was giving this guy a massage on Wednesday
i kept wanting to grab the sides of this torso and just heave myself into him like a wave
crash against the bed
my beard rubbing up his furry body
the immediacy
slamming bodies together
wanting to break like the surf
flow through eachother
i felt like that a lot last night
but only after i found a key
for hours i TRIED
and TRING to be turned on is TIRING
it'd taken Sarsparilla, Oatstraw and Damiana to raise testosterone levels and make me more horney
but they just made me euphoric and speedy
i was moving fast
and enjoying the weight of my boots
i was rolling through the room
big belly rolling through the clouds
eventually
the star of the film showed up
he was the only guy who had facial hair that turned me on
not a full beard
but a long strange goatee spikey thing
with two forks
and amazing eyebrows
and blah blah blah
he flipped my switches
but he was really into leather s/m
which leaves me not only feeling like i don't know the script
but that perhaps i'm in the wrong show
however
desire leads us many strange places…
i found myself wanting him
so it happened
an i probably gave a good performance
(thinking back now…)
i figured it would be a good time to try all the yoga/sex acts i enjoy:
getting fucked while standing on my shoulders
bending over backwards to suck dick
we developed a pretty good connection
it will be interesting to see
but
back to the medicine:
this and the conversation on wednesday remind me of something that i have been working on learning about for two years (in fact, made it clear… in fact, gave me more of an undrestanding to work from)
:
There are many different languages of Affection.
last year's New Year's party at Heartwood gave me the bud
i ranted around in a heart circle about learning to love Hate
because there is nothing in the world but Love
therefore
Hate
is just a twisted way of loving
but let us not forget! IT IS LOVE
Chip grabbing my hair and shoving me against his chest saying
"motherfucker, suck it motherfucker"
is love
the beat of the flogger, tied up in hood and hand restraints
love love love
my father antagonizing my mother at every turn
is his way of just wanting to be close to her
Love
i so often take this things as malicious
destructive
painful
and sometimes they are
but so is life..
maybe nothing's malicious
that's just me afraid of… Change? connection… real connection causes… facilitates! propigates change…
destruction is necessary, yeah!
pain is part of life, yEAH!
that's alright
that's alright
so long as you Also hold me tight
and give me comfort…
i really like the language of affection where we're beaming love and healing at eachother
then radiate it to the world

as i left the bear party
i was walking by a BMW dealer
and laughed that even BMW makes SUVs now
what the fuck is it with the SUVs?
everyone’s gotta have one
the weathly luxury car
SUV
even fucking Limos…
SUV limo parked at the gas station
what’s the deal?
walking home from the bear party
i figured it’s the same drive that leads me to big, strong, bukly men
Comfort.
(and protection)

i used to be obsessed with a song…
[i’m always saying that]
called “A Reminder” by Radiohead
the lyrics:
”
if i get old
i will not give in
but if i do
remind me of this
remind me that
once i was free
once i was cool
once i was me
knock me out
smash out my brains
if i take a stance
and start to talk
shit
if i get old
remind me of this
the way that we kissed
and i really meant it
and what happens
if we’re still speaking?
hang up the phone
and play me this song.
”
i’m glad i haven’t forgotten this song
i don’t want to forget this tormented feeling
i don’t ever want to forget this
i know i often say i do
elaborate rituals to remove it
but thankyou thank you thank you thank you
i want this thorn in my side forever
(laughs)
forever til i die
i know
i know
nothing isn’t a good creation
but we need a GOOD rest when this is all over
and nothing is the most perfect rest.
what is this life
but preparation for the next?
no: be here now. NOW NOW NOW
and call all yr power
and make it the most amazing spectacle
the most amazing experience in the universe
damn: i need to go to india

“The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”
it drove me into a panic
i wrote and wrote and wrote
though will not post what i wrote
there are a few of you i wanted to reach out to
i feel i reached some clarity
i wrote this other crazy post after wards…
i feel there was some clarity
some foolishness
this is back-dated into place
Hello

“downtown 81”
a film of a day in the life of Jean-Michel Basquiat back in ’81
— Kid Creol and the Coconuts were in it!
and followed by
“Julien Donkey-Boy”
i really like some of Harmony Korine’s stuff
i hated this movie

sometimes it’s not so easy to know the root of WHY
but it’s apparent that it’s happening
i’m not happy
i’m doing … something.
walked for about 6 miles today in the sunshine
the shade of the big redwoods
buried a road-kill possum
and disobeyed the No Tresspassing signs
to play in the trees
got no hitch home
just walked walked walked
yoga again for hours
dancing around
but still
it persists
i’m unhappy
forgive my pushyness, babe
my sad is bopping me around like a puppet

i’m always surprised at just how much acting is involved in every day life…
and
for me
of course
Every Life
is a very strange reality for many people
but in my Life
i’m often surprised
the roles we play for eachother
and maybe
it’s just because i so often deal with gay men
and maybe
it’s because i so often deal with gay men who have such similar lives to me
they
somehow
feel right into my desires
— it’s Men in LA who often pick up on just what it is i want
they sing me my own songs of desires
weaving the mystery and magic i often dream of
and how could they know?
it’s always the men on the west coast
the little boys who ran off to live their dreams
and never came back
i spent a few hours today looking through Escort ads on line
— there’s a guy i had seen in a porn flick a few years ago… when i started watching porn again ( stopped after the age of 14 )
i found him today
(i’d had… Leads… for weeks.. but today… he came my way)
and there were pages of reviews of his performances
people stating how much they were… convinced
and how happy they were to pay
the idea of being an escort becomes more and more attractive
what more satisfying a role to play?
to Really get inside the audiance…
enough of all this distance.
it’s not good enough to be a teacher
or a waiter
or a television personality
i want to taste the sweat off the flesh of the exhausted and pleased
i want to feel the sudders of bliss
of fantasies fulfiled…
perhaps i want to drink the syrum of these fantasies:
reading these reports
i realized
i never have such well-thought-out scripts
no matter what can be said of my luscivious ways
i never work from scripts
i just go into it
seeing what we can make together…
isn’t that was making… love
is about?
re—creation?
creation
imagination
getting in there together
becomming the ripplying of the milyway in the infinite night sky
becomming the magestic beast of prey
being hunted by an even more magestic bird of prey
talking to someone
saying
“you know, when you just wanted to crawl inside someone? putting your entire body into them”
they stared at me blankly
fine, not the lover for me
but i knew what i meant.

tonight i watched
“Poison”
by Todd Haynes
last night was
“The Cockettes”
the night before
“Divine Trash”
— a documentary about John Waters
before before?
in the last few weeks
since i got net flix
“Capturing the Friedmans”
“Porn Star: the Legend of Ron Jeremy”
“the Truman Show”
“Lumiere and Company”
“the Legend of Leigh Bowery”
“Naqoyaquatsi”
“Angels in America”
part 2, before
part 1
starting with
“Some like it Hot”

Somewhere inside me
there is a man with a big round belly
i feel him
when i’m walking down the street
taking long deep strides
my energy rolling down into my groin
from the magma centre of the world
to my belly button
i engorge
and fill the whole world with myself…
or fill myself with the whole world
round
it rolls in my belly
and i cannot help but let the joy of feel it all splash over my face
deep strides
feet pushing through peat of the earth
sparks of love and sensuality..
i felt him tonight between takes in the movie
while the turkey was resting on top of the oven
and my friend was on the phone
i rolled a cigarette there
walked out on the balcony
and stared at the moon
sending little smoke cignals up the night sky
that big luminous lover up there
smiling at me
trusting in someone who’s always there
but always changing
and never
really
depends on me.

i’ve been obsessed with the idea of creation lately…
it’s common for kids to destroy things
like in Grame Greene’s well known short story “the destructors”
to the rash of arsons and vandalisms that happen in any deralic town
Bisbee
empty houses get burned to the ground
these small coast town
sent back to nature
rocks through windows
fire to dry timber
Destruction.
we all want to create something
if not in an immortal way
“leave my mark on the world”
at least changing our environment
–graffiti
or interiour design
better than the comments some make
“oh, i just took a shit”
‘great, production up 100%!’
as children
the easiest way to help creation along
is to prepare the way
prime the fertility of possibilty
by destroying what’s blocking up the flow
the Old
taking a breath
stop
and wonder
when does the change happen
where we switch from one crew to the next?