Sometimes it’s a grace to do nothing.
today (September 5th)
i woke and wandered through dreams
(even now i only have a few scattered images. nothing to tell)
and was jerked awake by Eric calling
i heard his voice on the answermachine and it pulled me to
consciousness
i rememeber actually kinda wrestling with the covers and the cold
grabbing the edge of the mattress to pull and propell myself towards
the phone
we talked a bit
and i was mostly sleepy and giggly and kinda awed.
i’m like that…
…sometimes…
and that was a good wake-up-call.
but i jumped back in bed to hide from the cold
and read some of Little,Big
i did a little yoga
drank my mum’s potion
and ate some apples
by then it the sun had graced the deck
and i moved outside
and started reading the Translator
what is it called
when the cold wave passes through you (me)
and i’m about to cry?
so beautiful
remembering things we all forget
i warmed some pizza and kilbasa (is that how it’s spelled?)
ate it
and then went read more Translator
then moved the logs outside
and swept the garage area
then went to read more of the Translator
the charecter was in book store
and found a collection of poems from the soviet union
during the cold war
in which this story is set…
there was a poem in there by her poetry teacher
(who had recently escaped (been exiled) from Russia
i read this:
After long thought I have at last decided:
I must write to denounce my neighbor.
Evidence both seen and invisible has so accumulated
That it cannot be ignored
And I know what my duty is.
I believe that nothing that has been reported can ever be erased,
And everything unreported likewise will not go unrecorded,
And everything that can be known is somewhere known,
If we are vigilant, and if we have done our duty.
I will tell how once returning home
On an evening when snow was beginning to fall
Seeing the light far off in his window
He began unaccountably to weep
And for a time could not go on.
It lasted only moments and he has forgotten it but there is no denying
it.
I will denounce my neighbor for it is my duty
As smiling boys do their duty to wild birds:
Once, he cut a cabbage in half, and saw that the two halves
Were a deamon’s face and its reflection;
And he wondered if symmetry was the deepest truth about the world
Or if he only wondered at it because of his own division,
Himself a creature struck in two as by a swordcut
One half the inexact mirror of the other.
I will write if I can find paper and a pen
Though there have been sudden shortages lately of these things
Shortages that are certainly someone’s fault
But around here we have done all right without these and other things.
If i can find no paper or pen, I will write in the wet sand
With one arm of a broken pliers;
I will sew letters together with hawthorns and straw,
I will write in spit on the pale undersides of leaves,
I will write with the torn hieroglyphics of moonlight on water.
It is my duty as a citizen not to keep these things hidden
But to bring them to the attention of those who need to know.
————————-
and
as any charecter
at that moment
it seemed so poignant to me.
looked for a bike around the house
perhaps roller blades?
used the keys to open the many locks
and
after dissapointment
to re-lock them.
i packed a bag
bottle of water
book
warm shirt
and left to walk into town
to here
to write.
funny, i feel embarrassed now
had typed out much more
but then cut it and spared ya from it
the gloaming is nearly over
so i will walk home soon
and come back
reborn

Tuesday, 26th, 2003: Montreal to St. Jerome
i woke up this morning after having a hard night’s sleep
restless sleeping partner
strange snoring
beautiful face: like a mouse
(i find so many bearish men looking like mice…)
great for cuddling
not for sleeping
i my dream
he came to me and woke me up in the early dawn
and said
“i’m sorry… but your van is gone…”
i woke
and was slightly worried:
There was Nothing to fear and Nothing to doubt
he gave me directions to where i was going and handed me a few folded
bills
“i have much money i don’t use, i feel good giving it to the last free
person on the earth”
(bad translation or just dominic being blown out of purportion again)
“for gas…”
‘mmm, thanks’
and a hug
and he DROVE ahead of me to the entrance to the tunnel
and off i was on my way to Alain’s…
similarily
when i arrived in St Jerome
i called Alain and he drove to a near-by service station to drive me to
his house
(a preferance when unfamiliar cities team up with language barriers)
He has a glossy blood red PT Cruiser…
(not to mention two Opan GTs…)
Now… Alain is mid forties
smokes like a chimeny
big fingers
big full beard (longer than mine)
big head, shaved
big eyes
big bushy eyebrows
.. and a nice belly
he’s really sweet
but looks more imposing today
in dark clothes
than when i first met him in Montreal a few days ago
dressed in khakis and a white shirt
(cigarettes in each breast pocket)
he bought this big house thirteen years ago
and has been running it as a … half-way-house for invalids?
for more than ten years.
that is to say
there are nine rooms
and seven “mentally ill” people living there.
i arrive and break out my kombucha
and start straining and bottling
making it quick, as the culture doesn’t like tobacco smoke
while Alain finishes preparing the lunch supper
of cold cuts and macaronni salad
and places, next to each, seven cigarettes (from large plastic bag)
and little cup containing … Pills.
i eat as well (warmed up japanese from last night’s meal with Daniel)
and we retire to His room
which features a very large television
and a very small one just above it
(black and white, the little one, showing what’s going on in the room
next door)
gotta keep an eye on things…
now, usually television and cigarettes get on my nerves very quickly
but when Alain and i met in the Cafe Presse a few nights back
we really didn’t nead to speak
just looking at eachother made us laugh and smile broadly
as it was similar here
clouds of smoke
and light chatter
but both of us looking at eachother
not speaking much
but smiling big
he in his big throne
me on the couch
his two dogs came in
little Pugs
Mod-An
and Eva-… eva something
monster grunting pig-dogs
fun.
we went out to sit in the grass by a rusty old stove
he pulled out a joint, which we smoke a little of
which got me talking about herbs and doing yoga
— it started to rain
ahhh, a man who likes sitting on the grass…
but even the other man i hung out with in Monteral also liked hanging
out on the grass
let all be aware: i love sitting on the grass
head stands and summer saults…
we went back inside and i noticed all the clocks in the kitchen (and
there were many)
were all different times
so i started trying to figure out how to adjust them all
— he laughed at me
and i set one to another
and realized now they were both the same
but the wrong time
he pointed to the top-most clock
we set them all to that clock
then he said
“that’s not the real time”
‘what?’
“well, i keep them all about 15 minutes fast in the house… they think
of their appointments only when they see that time on the clock… so
if i set it early, they get there on time instead of making the doctors
wait… it also puts them to bed earlier… i keep the real time in
here…”
we walked back into the TV room and he showed me a clock
but it was differnt thank his wrist watch…
i couldn’t sit in front of the TV
and he asked me about yoga
so i started doing some for him
and for myself
and the tinge of “high” and all that had been happening
i started getting very bright
i turned off the TV
and Alain just watched me
i mentioned Qi-gung
and started doing that
my hands became aflame with blue
white pouring through my flesh
my thigh hurt so much
Phewwwwww
out
and gone
and down
i left my body
went somewhere else…
Everywhere else
rolled back into relationships
thinking about…
— i can’t remember
but it connected with the difficulty of loving
and the missing of loving
the rift between robert and i… eli and i… my father and i… trevis
and i…
no love to brige over that troubled water
and i came back to myself
open eyed
standing in front of Alain
thinking: >>this is the nature of illness and death… back here
again… at a place where love can’t reach<<
we started rolling joints
or rather
i did
and it was only one
coz he had two pre-rolled already
now i don't smoke much
so i put a little tiny bit of hash in (carried from glastonbury)
and a bit of marijuana leaf (from amsterdam)
and some lobelia, catnip, damiana, osha and nutmeg
possibly other things…
we smoke all three
and struggle through figuring out how to make his television order a
movie
we decide to see "The Hours"
(rather, i do… and i don't remember what people had told me about
it… but that it was well made)
and the rain became fierce and the image digitalized
and we laughed
and got up and made tea…
dinner time
more cigarets layed on the table with little ramikins of pills
and he usually gives them a cup of coffee for dinner
i couldn't let him do that
(me being me)
and asked him to offer all of them a choice of coffee or tea
they all took tea!
i made a sleeply blend
and they all retired rather early and slept well
but he assured me
it didn't matter if they drank tea or coffee
not after the pills they took…
after this little well-timed interruption
the signal came back on the TV
— we hadn't missed much.
the Movie was very dramatic
child screaming and flailing as mom drove away to kill her self
great immage of her taking the pills and passing out on the bed
and the ocean rushing in from under it
filling the room
and sweeping her under
the movie slightly terrified me
and gave me the understanding of this:
(perhaps)
the pain of Women
in surpressed rolls
throughout time
gets carried along to their
children
gay sons
are affected by this uniquely
because they are the torturer and the victim
they are the cared for and the forgotten
we all know of the sins of the father
but the quiet pain of the mother
so well (well, not so well) hidden
women wanting to kill themselves
wanting to love the other women
wanting to run away from it all
wanting to love
loving… but being in so much pain
AIDS?
people living for eachother
people useing their lives as leverage to control other lives
people forcing themselves into a shape they think they should be
the weight of years and memories
and
opting out.
lightning filled the sky outside
and we made our way to bed
and it was so nice to fall asleep next to someone
cuddling up
with only the feeling of love and understanding
no pressure from other directions…
we rested well
but for the times Alain woke to smoke…
Today: September 3rd.
i'm sitting in Video Schmideo in Baldwin.
i walked into the store and there was this kid standing at the desk
in camo dungarees
and dreadlocks down to his butt
What?
eat a piece of pizza and get on the internet
answer email and messages on bearwww
notice all the men walking in:
Hunters… and X-Bikers.
hmmm
the mom-and-pop who own this place
come in
and the dread-kidd leaves
the pop has a beard down to his belly
tattoo's all over his arms
and a ponytail pulled back
why can't i find men like this?
well, i could.. if i were willing to pay that price
i keep thinking of seducing him
and the other people that walk through the door
their small beards/ big beards
tattoos from the army
open button-down shirts
i re-focus on my typing.
this morning i woke early plagued by the thought i'd done a terrible
injustice to Robert
that is
that i was given this powerful, yet fragile, man
and i broke him
he loved me
and my heart felt loved
but my mind was a monster
and with critiques and fears and confusions
he crumbled under me
and it's been YEARS
he's been silent all these years
not willing to tell me how terrified and broken he was by me
and me just pouring more at him
more love
more confusion
more fear
more critiques
which, this year, turned to anger
becasue of his silence:
i lost respect for him
he saying all this loving was just a waste of time
and so it was…
now he responded by saying he never wants to speak to me again
which such hateful phrases
it was always there
a voice says
just get over your dad you pathetic fuck
but then my heart hurts…
and trevis…
so i wrote a letter to Eric in my journal
asking him to teach me …
i woke too early
and couldn't go back to sleep.
i read "the snow goose"
i walked around the house
did some yoga
listened to the cd i made at Alain's
melted down the chocolate i got in SF that was less than mediocer
added spices and carob
and the rest of the hash
some ghee and some maple…
fudge?
i made plans with jim boardmen
i went out to check the pressure in the truck
tire almost empty
i filled it up and drove into town…
yesterday was nicer
i woke after one
(after being woken at eight to talk with leo through yawns for x
minutes before passing out again)
and spent most of the day reading and laying naked in the sun
but there is hardly any sun today
mostly gray
trees blowing in the breeze
i'll go for a walk when i get off this box..
and, Louis, write me back and tell me what you think of all these crazy
thoughts.
i don't know my future.

family weekend
i took the time i good to jot some notes about
how it was.
today is sunday. august 31st.
i just got out of bed, though i’ve been awake for a while
i’ve forgotten my dreams…
(mostly, i’m just recalling now that i met xavier as i drove back into
NYC and he met me oustside of my van
and said “guess what i found… ” and handed me my old journal back…
the leather one i made… the mont blanc pen had been lost, though, but
he had bought me an old used one with someone else’s name monogramed in
it… battered… )
but i lay in bed for quite a while
taking the homeopathics my mother gave to me
and rubbing oil into my swollen leg
— the arsineca album was very strong
i felt it immediately go to the rash on my leg and burn
in that pleasant kind of way
— thoughts of robert’s email rolled through my head
though i did my best to quiet it: it’s not important anymore.
the day went on here in a lazy sunday way:
upstairs there was already-cold sausage in a skillet on the stove
and it seemed like most of the people were gone
as i sat here typing, i heard the events of the day unfolding around
me:
the mothers were at church
the fathers were out in the forest
“playing with the forest”
“hunting trees”
the chainsaws were growling out there
and soon my brother went out to help them split wood
— it never occurred to me to help them
but when i walked out i talked with them a bit
grabbed my kombucha
and what else?
it was only moments later that louis came in telling us he’d been stung
by bees
tension rose
and eventually he was taken the the hospital
i kept thinking of the story of two six year old friends
picking black berries
one gets stung by a bee
and is dead (forever)
– the boy in the that story always made me think of Louis
… now i think of louis…
last night, saturday, 30th…
i stayed up late with my brother Louis, my uncle Rick, my sister Kari
and louis’s girl friend, Heather
around the fire rick made
it took a while for me to get out there initially
— i decided to get the computer working and check my mail
and try to discover what the hell was wrong with my leg
in all likelyhood, it’s a spider bite that has, of course, turned over
to infection
now, it’s not pussy or anything
but there is a large red rash spread all the way around my leg
which is probably a strep or staph infection caused by the bite
(weakening my immune system from the venom and pushing bacteria from my
skin and the forest in my leg when i was bit)
but of course, i was derailed a bit by the emails:
robert’s just making me sad he had to resort to being accusitory,
projectionary, and debasing
but it didn’t hurt: it was so obviously said because i… had hurt him
so much
though it made me question how often i really have “betrayed my
friends”
–other emails made me think of bears, of course
so i went to my various sites to look at them
and got incredibly horny and started emailing all sorts of people
‘ well, i’m driving through, and we could meet… ‘
and then felt kinda silly; sugar
and all cousins came in from drinking around the fire
after getting involved in a conversation about yet another person in my
life being diagnosed “diabetic”
i shut off the computer and went out to the fire
but the main part of the day was about canoeing.
that’s what i came here for, i guess.
i woke up kinda early.
cajoled my old cd player (long forgotten downstairs) to play the
barely-burned cd Alain made for me
did yoga to “breathe” and “there there” and “Gypsy” and “amsterdam”,
almost.
the day got going
everything felt so difficult and stressful
-refusing to come to this level of interraction
i became more abstracted from the Men here
the women and i danced between the layers…
everyone was worried about the day being cold
which it wasn’t… really
it was a nice day
we went down the river in a little row boat…
– i wish there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt.
i was singing that song (the pyramid song)
and my father made a nasty comment about it
mother and syster shut him up, saying he enjoyed it
it was nice canoeing with Kari like that
then i kyaked alone for a while
really enjoyed the whole feeling on the river
very calm
relaxed
despite the human tension
the trees, the green, the flowing water
the lightning flashes of salmon running under the water.
i swam a little
the cold rush of water
while the family stood around drinking beer and smoking cigars
the collage kids canoed passed us
joints and beers and jokes
and torturing the women
of course i started watching the fishermen
the other canoers
the big men in camo
the big men in camo
the long brimmed hats and full mustaches
the big arms and wide chests
the bellies and the blank stares
like dogs tackling eachother in the water
there was no one i could share this with
my mother took the kyack the rest of the way
and upon arrival at the landing
my syster and cousin rushed out and tipped my brother’s canoe
— a family tradition
the boys were all drunk
our clan and the colleged ones
and it was rolls and waves of picking up screaming girls
and throwing them in the water
everyone shivering and cold
we got back in the car and headed home…
after all the showers and tex-mex chip dip and ukranian dinner-feast
we all went down stairs to gather round the TV and watch an old family
vacation video
where i, yet again, smiled a lot, but looked distanced and awkward in
the family
and for nearly twenty minutes
the whole room laughed about my father picking a wedgie and squating to
re-adjust his underwear
insisting he come down to see it
because he’d hidden away from the whole family for two days
very little interaction
apparently he’d been diagnosed with diabetes and his retirement dreams
aren’t blossoming to what he wants them to be
— he hasn’t talked with any of us about this
it’s all been whispered behind his back
which is always in another room.
Friday, august 29
i arrived early in the morning, around nine o-clock
organized some things in my wreckaged van
put bags in on the seats of what i was taking in to the house
but the house was locked
and everyone was still asleep
(them having arrived at four or five in the morning)
i compiled a stack of books
and just started reading one
when my mother and father came out
it was all very friendly and nice to see them
in their sleeping clothes
all of us
early morning
(kinda)
the day was spaceous and open
and i was very tired
what, with this infection in my leg
wracking my body
i was very tired
and often found myself just acquecing to everything
(a good way to deal with my antagonistic family)
we went out for a less-than-mediocre family breakfast
and it seemed like so much of the table talk was a very offensive to my
father
he became quiet and sulky
and i hardly saw him the rest of the day
(bash him behind his back, we all did with aplumb)
it was tiring.
i showered for an hour
shampooing and conditioning my hair with fine potions from my mother
letting the water pour through me
and then collapsing into sleep on the couch
this is vacation
watched over by the seven deer heads, buffalo, elk and the turkey…
everyone arrived
big family dinner
aunt chris hounding me about cutting off my beard
— i told her i’d be glad to if she shaved her head
it almost shut her up quick.
thursday the 28th
we woke very sore
hard to move my leg at all
and very reluctant to get out of bed
it was very cold
and it was only the coughing of Mark from behind my van that convinced
me i should be going
seeing that i had planned to drive twelve hours or something
>> mmmm, be on the road by eight and i’ll arrive… ugh…<<
i gathered up the remnats from last night's fire
Mark's pot
and the burlap bag with two logs left in it
straightened out the mirrors
and by the time he'd put his tent back together
Vic was all warmed up and we were on our way
i drove and drove
cold morning
Mark in his shirtsleeves
chilly, but toughing it out
we drove through North Bay entirely missing any usefull stop
though i'd mentioned "Fish and Chips" and we'd bother been nurturing
and hunger for it for breakfast
and Vic needed gas..
we saw a billboard for "Chesters" and tried to keep our eyes out for it
never seeing it
but we did see a hitch hiker
i swirved over and stopped for him
his name was Brian
and he had a mullet
black cap on
flanel shirt, unbottoned, exposing his big belly covered by a red shirt
and black jeans
big bright eyes
and thin unshaven beard
on a very Red Indian face
very animated
didn't usually hitchhike… tended to walk the forty miles from town to
town often..
he and i and we started hemming and hawing about America
governments
the whole world being fucked up
and being silent a moment as we drove by a bridge that someone must
have grappled over to write
"THIS IS INDIAN LAND"
in large capital letters…
as brian sat behind me talking in his animated voice
and Mark stared determidly in front of him interjecting words
and i rattled off responses to Brians excitment
and his body came into my perception clearly
i could feel his thick legs
the curve of his belly
and the heat began to rise
a smile crossed my lips and i let it go
Brian told us the perfect place to get fish and chips
"all you can eat… on thursdays. my father in law took me out there
last week…"
shifting around the conversation on how to get there
i handed him a pen
and he set out to draw us a map to get there
upon arrival in HAGAR
(" like the viking? "
""No, that guy had two G's and the little points over the A.. "")
he gave us the map
with all the details we could possibly use to get us to "Teklenburg's"
"and he waitress's name is Karen…"
he told me about his wife's illness: sever rhumatoid arthritis
i gave him a kombucha culture
he was very excited
said "maybe i'll see you again out there on the road"
and Mark and i watched him saunter off down the arm of the intersection
as we looked over our maps to see how long it would take to get to
Sudbury
and breakfast
wasn't long at all
we got there found Techlanburg's easily, with the help of his map
(perfect)
and Karen told us it was usually tuesday that they had the
all-you-can-eat
but she'd give it to us..
and
recommended a great beer
OHHH
(so mark said he'd drive after lunch)
and the place was owned by a dutch couple
the wife came out and served us and i nearly bursted getting to say to
her
"danku wel"
—
just after leaving town
mark picked up another hitch hiker
and eli called
we talked about the journal first and formost
though the excuse for calling was the computer
which, after three disconnections, he admitted wasn't important
is this maturing? or giving in?
are these the same things?
when i just have to shrug and say
"i don't understand friendship"
i don't understand love?
i don't understand family?
let it go
let it play
i was on the phone with Eli and Eric
while the next hitchhiker was in the car
(carl?)
he left
and left his cigarettes in there..
just ten minutes later
Mark stopped to pick up another..
well, group.
these two kids, girl/boy
and their dog.
who had gotten into a skunk recently
and the girl, Harvey, had got into it too…
Justin, the boy, just smelled sour
and it was then that i questioned just how helpful i should be
yet again..
just through the first town
the van started screaming
and i told mark to pull over:
a belt was smoking
he turned off the engine
the belt was melting
fortunatly
there was a auto shop just a minute's walk away
and they told us to pull up
and told us not to worry
"it's just the air pump
just a stupid pollution thingie
look man, i've been running mine without it for eight years"
and he showed me his engine
"shit, i need to get a new alternator belt on there…"
so onward we drove
and the kids sat in the back and talked
but they smoked
and read johova's witness mags
and complained about the world
and jumping trains
and cops
and
it started to rain
just as we pulled into Sault Sainte Marie
i felt bad about leaving them
but not bad enough to say goodbye.
and rush off into the rain through the city
to the beautiful bridge leading to michigan
i called my mom
and told her about my leg
and asked for salves or homeopaths or something
she called Val
who said it was a spider bite
and helped clear it
i also asked my mum to pray for me to get through the customs with
little problem
and it worked…
the threw a dog to sniff around in my van
and the dog guy asked me
"when was the last time you smoked in your van?"
' smoked what? '
i said, not falling into such insinuations
"well…"
'kids were smoking cigarettes in there today
but i don't smoke them
and haven't smoked any marijuana in my van'
"liar"
'fuck you, then'
another pitbull beside me said
"what'd you just say?"
'he called me a liar… and he doesn't even know me'
i was through in about a half hour.
i haven't ever smoked any marijuana in my van.
the sun was setting
as i got over the Mackinaw bridge
which was beautiful
more beautiful than the Golden Gate by far
but so far away
and so less seen…
my parent's weren't going to be at the cabin by 11 as they said
so i took my time at overlooks and rest stops
(nothing going on to speak of)
but such beautiful vistas
but i was too far away as the sun went down
and my sleeping patern was to twisted
i began to swerve off the road by midnight
only 20 miles away i drove down a dirt road
and slept in a farmer's field…
Wednesday, august 27th.
woke this morning in Alain's bed.
it was about ten, i think
so lazy
and alain kept saying
"oh, don't worry, you can stay in bed, i'll make breakfast"
but he kept comming back and chatting with me and carressing me
but not sexually at all. he was being very loving and friendly
so great to see him, big shaved head and huge full beard
eventually
i had to tackle him
cuddle him up
wrassle him into position
and dance with him
such love and playfulness and beauty
it was nearly noon by the time we finally got out of bed
and then i started trying to make a cd
1 everything in its right place (christopher o'riley)
2 little kids (ladytron mix) (kings of convenience)
3 martha, my dear (beatles)
4 can't get enough of your love (barry white)
5 dreams (fleetwood mac)
6 bridge over troubled water (simon and garfunkle)
7 breathe (telepopmusik)
8 there there (radiohead)
9 gypsy (stevie nicks)
10 me and bobby mcgee (janis joplin, alain insisted)
11 let down (christopher o'riley)
12 on the way to the club (blur)
13 amsterdam (coldplay)
14 wolf at the door (radiohead)
15 out of time (blur)
16 taxi ride (tori amos)
17 julia (beatles)
18 parallel lines (kings of convenience)
but it, of course, didn't work
we surrendered and went to breakfast at Le Petit Boudon
and i ate a lot a lot
and we made jokes
and the waitress….
well, it was beautiful to see a kinda white-trash/red-neck/lovin french
woman.
and it was past four by the time i left
and i had meant to be on the road by eight!
so i would certainly miss meeting Christopher in Ottawa
(whom i'd met in Province town…)
and it was only an hour of driving
(beautiful rivers and rolling hills)
that i stopped for a hitch hiker named Mark
who also was from Indiana
"never expected to have another Hoosier pick me up"
he was from Greencastle
just an hour or so north of where i grew up…
in Zionsville
we talked about small rivers
and forests
and New Mexico, where he'd been going to school
and Alaska, where Mark was heading
after hitchhiking across canada…
we talked about the mississippi
when mark graduated from highschool
he and some guy
went to minnessota
and canoed down the mississippi river
all the way to New Orleans
… Adventures.
so this year…
he's taking a year off
from his first year of school
"hmmm, yeah, i don't want to go back.. there's just too much else to
live… but i feel i'd severely damage my relationship with my parents
if i didn't finish collage…"
we drove til all the light was gone from the sky
mark at the wheel then
and we parked by a little swamp
started a fire
(by pitchwood and found kindling… it took the both of us to get it
going…)
he made mac and cheese
and i added a salsa my aunt had given me and i had doctored up with
fresh garlic and cayanne pepper…
talked til it was late
me rolling him herbal cigarettes
(lobelia and damiana and nutmeg and osha and mugwort and mullen…)
i walked to the road looking for mars
who didn't look so orange as i knew him
more bright
more white
standing in the middle of the highway
then the semitruck crested the horizon
and i was bombarded by much more light
much more noise
from both directions
i crossed the road
and pissed
waiting for the silence and subtlety to return.

hullo
i recommend searching on the internet for recipies
coz you can always elaborate
but this is what i cook
(for one person)
soak 1/2 cup of mung beans over night
pour out and rinse
(three times a day if you soak them and then don’t get around to
cooking til later)
prepare the spices in a cup:
1 teaspoon of salt
1/2 t of coriander
1/2 t of cumin
1/4 t of fennel
1/4 t of cardamom
pinch of asafotedia (Hing)
have 2/3 t of tumeric ready
cut 1/2 ginger root into tiny bits (or grate)
cut one carrot into bite size pieces
measure out 1/4 cup of basmati rice
start boiling some water in a tea kettle
put the pot on the stove you want to use (make sure there’s a lid)
low flame
add one Tablespoon of Ghee or coconut oil (or other oil of your
prefrence)
when it’s all melted (or warm enough)
add the spice mixture and ginger
stir intermittently
when it starts to bubble slightly (about a minute)
add tumeric
after about fifteen seconds more
add the rice and mix it into the paste thoroughly
then turn up the flame to medium
add carrots and mung beans
mix in
and pan fry for a minute or two
then add the water
just enough to cover everything about an inch
mix well
and cover
high heat till it starts to boil
then turn to low
and let simmer for an hour or so
then stir well
mush it all up
and if you want it to be more liquidy
add more water
leave lid on and let cool for fifteen minutes or so
good to garnish with fresh cilantro
fresh raw ginger
and cyane pepper
—
also cooks very well in a pressure cooker
or let cook for hours in crock pot
very flavourfull
— tell me your results!

Oh, everything i’d like to say…
there is, of course, too much
when i left Bangor
i made it to Acadia national park rather quickly
there was some thick traffic
so i decided to pull off at a little rest area
where there were two old men in cars waiting…
i walked through the woods a bit
and i hadn’t had sex for about a week
so was feeling horny
one walked up to me
seemed very tired/dopey/bored
not hard at all
i kinda thought the experience was fun because of how odd it seemed
but he wasn’t into it and i wasn’t into it
(nothing much happened)
and he walked off
whereupon
i got into the tree
and imagined myself making love to the forest
just enjoying the sexual energy swirling around me
and then into my mind crept a friend i met recently
of whom the sexual energy was quite strong
mainly because we’d not been able to have it…
— see, i’ve often found that
with relationships
the spark of sex can fire a lot
but if you just culminate quickly
well…
the tension
the attraction
the magic of the art of making love
is lost
that is
you could make love for YEARS
toying
coying
teasing
writing letters
phone calls
oh, this can get quite tyring
and, honestly
i don’t indulge in it very often anymore
but this man, because of circumstance
(as i’m trying to yank his pants off after we’ve fallen off the couch)
“i’m in a monogamous relationship” (though his boyfriend was on the
other side of the country…)
i’ve been dealing with that a lot lately
that is to say
Men
and their Lovers
which i step between
and worry about burning them, or their lovers, or myself
and being gentle with it
feeling guilty
reticent
i step slowly
i feel already that i’ve damaged relationships
though at the begining
(and this was a few years ago)
i remember thinking that it was OK
that is
(as a friend once put to me: “jealousy is the feeling when you know you
could be better for that person than who they are spending their time
with)
the relationship wasn’t something that i really resptected for it’s
content
(which i didn’t understand)
but only for it’s form
that is, that it was a relationship of a man whom i did love and
respect
and only felt tender towards his lover because of my love for him
(my how i digress)
and lessons!
i learned that just because a lover of mine loves someone else
does not mean that this second person would be at all good for me
the art of deliberation
i have been building that mechanism
(i’m tired, let me refocus)
SO
i was in the forest
and this new friend of mine pops into my head
and he becomes the energy of the forest…
i’m on the road into the park
and have been wrestling with time…
i had expressed the intention to ride a ferry
to see the coast of Maine
which is quite wrinkly
and best seen from the water
i was told
my first try, in portland, i walked towards it
kept going to little places along the way
being distracted
got to the boat: missed the last one.
hmmm
drove two days
with intention to catch it in Rockland
got there very early in the day
so i went looking for books
and book stores
and keep being distracted on my walk to the docks
i walked up as the last ferry was pulling away.
(grrrrr)
so
Acadia:
i drove in a rush down to Bass Cove
and got there just in time
(with a little time to spare)
and jumped on the ferry
grabbing a book ( i had recently bought)
and a jacket (just in case the sea breeze was cool)
and some water and nibbles
got on the boat
it was a beautifully clear day
and high tide
nice kids
friendly people
i clamboured out on the rocks on Swan’s island
and found a place to sit and read
taking off most of my clothes
basking and baking myself in the sun and the hot rocks
water receeding
finding star fish and seeing barnacles lick the water
and see urchins!
strange black things that flocked on the surface of the water in the
tide pools like fleas…
i got absorbed…
reading “Song of Myself” to myself outloud
being with Walt Whitman again!
inspiring so much in me
i was filled with inspiration by my new friend yet again
who inspired me to get this book (though i have had many copies in my
day of “leaves of grass” i have never read this poem)
so many ideas came into mind:
being an american–
how beautiful!
we have escaped the past
we have run from the past and out ran it!
we are free!
free to be wild and dirty
free to be lusty and open and loving
playful
free to enjoy
free to explore
what happened to america?
— i read a book last week, first night in the van in maine… on the
side of a road, dirt, against the trees, faraway.. but still littered
with trash
i read a book called “Faraway Places” by Tom Spanbauer
(he wrote “the man who fell in love with the moon” which dragged me
through life in a whole new way that was very enriching… i read it
two years ago and have been looking for this one, his first, since)
i read it entirely that morning
when i woke
bleary
at dawn
the book is only 130 pages
it’s climax crashed me to a shuddering yeping mess
which is impressive:
i’ve not cried like that in YEARS
possibly ten.
no no .
seven.
yes.
anyway
one of the most heartwrenching things in the book
was his way of showing how america wasn’t about being free at all
through the eyes of an innocent child
(well, not so innocent… but 12 years old)
so
whitman
america?
run away from the past?
WHAT?
run away from God.
God.
once i was god.
then i was the universe
then i was the earth
then i was man and woman
which beget which beget
i was a million things
and have fragmented to six billion
who am i anymore?
if i run away from my past as being a one omnipotent being
and run into my present
here i am
surrounded by myself
God in everything
God as everything.
living as god as everything
of course of course
but LIVING it.
well, it’s a feat ,indeed
i have often thought it
but often my life lives differently.
life is strange
and for some it is about one thing
and others it is about many things
and some just see god clearer
i am someone who didn’t really know about god
didn’t really know about love or jesus or any of that
when i was a kidd
i was only aware of the earth
i guess i come from a lineage of beings that was animals
or faeries
or wizards
something
i don’t know where i come from
i ran away from my past
i’m an american…
but aside from all of that
i’m on this rock on the island
thinking about god
and myself
and love
and inspiration
boundaries
and the ferry pulls in
i think to myself
>>oh, i’ll just catch the next one<<
it was another hour of reading and thinking and writing in my journal
when i realized
that was the last ferry…
but another one came in an hour later!
so i ran to it
and got to it
to hear
"nope, not going back tonight"
that was the night of the Black Out.
i watched the tide for HOURS
i watched the sky and the water
i watched.
i breathed
i could not sleep
it was too cold and damp
i was awakened
i had matches
but everything was wet
i could not light a fire
the tide went out
the tide came in
i woke
(trying to sleep, just crunching up into a ball)
feeling no remorse
just knowing
i really need to learn this lesson about time
i always forget…
i sang to myself
as the sun began to rise
i ran across the island
through the forest
getting very wet
but not too lost
to find the sun
breathing hard
and exhausted
OH
the library is closing
i must be off
perhaps when i write next
i will be more focused
see you then..

So i woke up this morning parked behind Little Lad’s bakery factory in
East Corinth Maine
i met Larry, the guy who (kinda) runs it
last week in Portland
he invited me to come up and trade my van for his pick up
which i will not be doing
it doesn’t have cruies control
and is quite beaten
— i need my comfort right now more than ever
i feel it’s a hearlding to when i’ll be settled in a Home somewhere
( my wanering days are over? )
so he woke me up this morning
but only a few hours after i intitally woke
i didn’t put up the curtains last night
and the dawn stirred me to waking
though, at times like these, i always think of the rumi poem:
the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you
— don’t go back to sleep
you must ask for what you really want
— don’t go back to sleep
there are people going back and forth across the door sill
where the two worlds touch
the door is round and open
— don’t go back to sleep
but you know what? i often do.
this morning, the sun wasn’t really up yet, just the light through the
sky
and i was cold
turning over and over on myself
as if IN on myself
i pulled up the old sleeping back over my red sheet and fell back into
dreams
i dreamed and dreamed
like swimming in honey
even though this doesn’t, perhaps, give me the type of clarity that
Rumi speaks of
that i know i need
it gives me a type of comfort
more than food
more than random sex or alchohol or pot
i love dreaming
but i’ve not been able to remember my dreams lately
— i always get woken
so i hear larry calling out my name
and it pulls me out of where i was
(walking a path on a beach? in a forest? i’ve been doing this for a
week or many in my dreams lately… )
and i go to take a shower
and do some yoga
(loving myself)
then sit to eat with the family
three bright happy kids
a vegan family
totally terrified of all animals products
“DISEASE!”
which makes me sad
i mean
anything and, hmmm, everything could kill you
but what’s the point of living trying to side-step death?
it’s such a boring occupation
that is
it wears you out with its futility
however, i don’t mind being healthy
living to be healthy
while we’re here
to enjoy it as much as possible
but to make those choices out of fear instead of pleasure
i think THAT’s poison
still, i am in no position to judge
i am still quite scared of many things:
last night, reading “Coraline” by Niel Gaiman
and seeing this hard working mother
with three children and another on the way
aneimic
sore tired throat
tired eyes and nerves
i got really scared of love
possesive owning manipulitave controlling dominating devouring
love
sometimes this fear comes back to me
the monsters in the dark
the fear of the one who loves you
i SEE it sometimes
which is what keeps the fear alive
i have not found the sword to slay this dragon
and imagine that some king i encounter on my journey will be the one to
give it to me
ney, slay it with me
but what do i know of the future?
so anyway
i got on the road after pouring my Kombucha into bottles
but too uneasy about their beliefs on health to ask them if i could
even make tea in their kitchen
as a few days ago
i got to bangor because i gave this guy Joe a ride
i also didn’t want to make tea in his kitchen
because he was SO sad
51, been travelling his whole life
mostly walks
though his ankle randomnly shattered this year
he’s still at it
wants to die
tried killing him self many times
his own son killed himself
Ugh!
such self loathing
but more, negligence
i was happy to give him a ride
to hear that song
see that mirror
cook him miso soup
(beet, turnip, carrots, burdock, and daikon)
make him tea
share with him healing herbs that could possibly heal his failing Leo
lungs (a forever smoker)
but couldn’t quiet my mind nagging me about pouring my love into
hopless vessels…
that is
i always feel so much better when i am helping other people
while helping myself at the same time
loving as a joint project, you understand
and it seems easier to help people like this
because they need help in EVERYTHING
where as many only need help in little things
and are not only unaware of what they need help in
so unable to ask
but also, very often, unable to recieve
(blink)
which i am well familiar with
so no tea in that kitchen
(laughs)
don’t want to culture that story into the next two weeks.
but one more note about last night
i was in the bakery kitchen a boy said
“hey, i’ve met you before… yes i have… and i remember where:
heartwood, in the mountains of northern california”
it is a small world
and i was happy to see the light in his eyes upon recognition
and how he instantly opened up and offered his house and meadow for me
to park in, sleep in, whatever
but he wasn’t there this morning when i called to see if i could make
tea there
(laughs)
so i’m now in Bangor
back at this cafe
after having just bought new thicker oil for the Van
hopefully to clean and stop her leaking
writing this
sending it out
then on to Bar Harbour
and then to New Brunswick
and then Quebec city?
… eventually over to Montreal
where is the place i’ll probably next have internet access
could write these tales forever
i was writing something similar in my journal last night
a list of when i was loved
by myself and those i’ve met recently
and, like recalling dreams, each segment sparked earlier memories and i
just kept writing and writing past the sunset, past the misquitoes on
my hands, past the candle going out and being lit again
the many sticks of Incencse eli gave me that i thought might dissuade
the flies
until i was woken from my writing revelrie by Larry
again
to drive my van into the telephone pole to straighten out the bumper
the old fashion way
which brings me back to Doe
where i fell asleep
and woke up cold in the early dawn
pulling the old speeping bag over my red flannel sheet
and drifting back into dreams
which is
i’m sure
where i’ll see you next

Date:
Thu, 29 May 2003 15:03:44 -0700 (PDT)
From:
 ”dominick vyne”
Subject:
the history of contacts
To:
“Sowinski, Louis”
how do you know where i am
you freak!?
do you have spies?
i’ll fucking sue you man!
back off!
i mean,
i’m loving the midwest
i feel so comfortable
at ease
sleeping well
no longer afraid of the dark
or midday shadows…
i was deperately depressed in indiana
did my best to wear a smile
— it came across as convincing
except when mother asked me to stay longer and i almost broke down and
cried.
thursday night to sunday afternoon
dad and i were together
which was pretty damn cool
but i’ll get to that in a moment
mom yelled at him for ignoring me
after i’d come all that way and been gone so long
so i was sleeping in your room
where i’ve been brewing kombucha
and sleeping on that buckwheat pillow
and, you know me, i’m a normal guy and everything
not really into that psychic stuff
but that pillow is freaky
mom’s memories are in there
and some of yours
when i put my head on it
i could hear her thoughts (past)
and some of yours
and lots of voices i didn’t know
it was freaky
i had to move it away when i wanted to actually sleep
but it was fun to play with
and the second morning dad walks in
wakes me up, of course,
and asks me my plans
which i spilled out
— they didn’t include him because he was absent…
but he said he wanted to spend time
and i told him i was here to see him
so would change my plans
happy to do so
‘ dad, i’m terrified of you ‘
so we made plans
and that morning made me feel SO good
so filled with love
i pulled down three of your books
“how to lose a guy in ten days”
“the history of suicide in america”
“the journey to self discovery”
they were all very helpful
i wrote in my journal a long time
and felt very good
dad and i
of course
argued
as you say
he loved picking fights with me
but i wasn’t so interested in showing him that i was better than he is
though, of course, we know i am
so i would just sai
“dad, we could play this game forever.. .but we’re not going to”
and i would walk away
then come back
and we’d talk again
it was nice
we took walks
and got kinda drunk
and his fishing buddies visited
and we played cards with harry and laverne and gerry
and dad said i should come for 4th of july and november
and often do things that i didn’t like to make other people happy
and always be true to myself
and never mention anything about homosexuality around him
and i smiled
and it was nice
and we seperated.
he’s not a bad man.
he loves mom a lot
or needs her
he’s cast her in a role that she doesn’t fit
and doesn’t really know about
and he’d probably be embarrassed to explain it to her
and it’s a nice dream
and it’d be really nice if it’d work out for them
but they’d have to have a relationship first
so… we’ll see where it goes
coz it doesn’t look like either of them really want to seperate.
these people are fucking crazy.
this is life, and everything’s alright.
i visited genie and kristy.
i’m with rick and elaine right now
some other stuff has happened
the van is leaking oil.
things are ok
things are confusing
life moves on
how are you?
…dominic

Date:
Mon, 21 Apr 2003 01:53:48 -0700 (PDT)
From:
 ”dominick vyne”
Subject:
Re: My trip and a shirt
To:
 ”Rick S”
Hallo Rick
so
i left your place and headed up to Santa Rosa
dropped off the stuff
and was amazed i was taking this trip…
then headed down 12
through the windy roads
through the marsh lands
into the east bay
through the 780
680
580
to 5
then stopped
set up the bed
the blinds
and slept!
woke up slightly late in the morning
surprisingly
as i thought i got to sleep early…
but before i started driving
i noticed there was a nail in the right front tire!
so i looked at the map and decided to try and make it to Modesto
where i assumed they’d have a Costco
to get the tire fixed
but when i got to the next exit, where i was just going to turn around
i realized saw there was a nice little christian truck repair place on
the hill…
and a guy pulled the nail, reamed the tire and plugged it for twenty
bucks.
it seems to be holding well.
i then continued on down the road
not stopping TOO much
but still not getting to my brother’s til nearly 7
found a perfect parking space in the shade.
then realized the air conditioner had fallen while driving!
so i just took the screws out and tucked it neatly on the side til i
figure out how to disconnect all those tubes..
another question: do you know if the heat gauge is working on the dash?
it never moved through the whole day of driving
so i suspect it’s not
conscious of overheating in the desert
i just wanted to check and see if you knew
and OH
the passanger door started working just fine again.
well, nearly fine.
it opens from the outside at least.
it’s a quirky van
i named i Vic
(Vicar Victory)
(Victory Vicar?)
but it feels like home
thank you ever so much.
yeah, um, yeah
the shirt
i realized that i left it there yesterday
i suppose you could give it away, yeah
if you find someone who must have it
but i do like it
so if it’s not too much trouble
send it on to here
dominic, care of
robert pittenridge
(address ommited)
as far as the wine
i’ve only had one bottle so far
but given away four
and two have been bad
(rotten corks, fallen in or corkscrew gone right through like pulp)
and the one i drank tasted so nice
so rich and full
like honey and spice…
then the tannins hit and my mouth puckered up and bowels clenched
WOW
i never knew there could be such tannins!
it was realy tasty wine, though
nice to have one glass of it
i’ve got a few bottles
so will drink it slowly next time.
so many adventures you’ve allowed me
i’ll do my best to spend time with you by sending you little tales of
how it goes on my journey
so far as i know
i’m leaving tomorrow to head to arizona
palm springs on the way?
.. we’ll see
thank you
for so many different things
and blessings to you
may you love everything you touch
and may everything that touches you fill you with love
…dominic

Date: Sun, 9 Mar 2003 20:50:06 -0800 (PST)
From: “de nada” Add to Address Book
Subject: my ideas of giving and recieving
To: “Enda McCool”
well, i didn’t start bottoming until i was 18
i was scared of it!
the first guy who fucked me was 50 something
it was so hot!
he fucked me for about two hours
and i remember laying there in a puddle on the bed
with my head blown off
>>OH! THAT is what Sex is all ABOUT!<<
i wanted to get fucked all the time after that
the next guy really hurt me
the next few really hurt me
then i got warts up my ass
and stopped getting fucked for two years
good thing i did, i think
i've just really started getting fucked again over the
last year.
now, unfortunately, i don't know how well i can
explain this to you
because
you say
you don't "believe" in sexual energy
um
do you believe in any energy at all?
hello?
(laughs)
do you believe in the chinese energy meridians?
do you believe in Lay Lines?
do you believe in Reiki?
do you believe in magick?
sex is the most powerful act we have at our finger
tips
IT MAKES ENTIRELY NEW PEOPLE
yeah, generally
when a man fucks another man
if you look at his face
there is anger there
or fear
or some weird fucking domination thing going on
which, as far as i understand, is all about insecurity
if you are secure with yourself
you don't need to dominate another person
i remember reading that
with the Greeks
generally
the mentors wouldn't actually FUCK so much
they would to frattage
between the legs
because penetration WAS demeaning in their society
i have been love-fucked a few times
and anger-fucked a few times
and really
i am a picky person
it is rare i get satisfyingly fucked
i'm much more of a top, anyway
i've still got a LOT to learn about bottoming
because it's RECIEVING
pathic
laying back
suffering it
taking it
it's hard
hard to relax and recieve
for me…
that being said
i've noticed that whenever someone fuckes me
i get some of their energy
that being said
only two people have cum in me over the last two years
so far as i remember
two.. three?
not many
it's just too… Much.
i would say dangerous
but that's not right.
having someone open your root with their root
is one thing
having someone dump their seed
the material manifestation of their life energy
that which they use to create another life
that which they use to pass on their story
having that planted in your root
well, that's a little too much for me, often
i mean
ideally
i'd love to find a partner i love
and want to be sewn by
but
i'm picky
in the past
when i've had peole cum in me
that i DIDn't trust
or even KNOW
it just fucked me up
and i had to do a lot of work to get myself clear
again
still, i love it
intimacy
the taking in
joining
union
when fucking
that's what i focus on
loving that person
and making my cum an exlir of love to shoot in them
bless them in some way
eucharist
generally
i'll fuck someone
( i don't use condomns much )
cum in them
then keep fucking them for a while
coz once i've CUM
i've arrived.
once i'm there
i can be there with my mate
always better when he shares this consciousness, of
course
because then we're there together
we can go places
inside of eachother
and …
but that's my trip
any questions?
(wink)
…dominic
— Enda McCool wrote:
> I forgot to ask you what conclusions you have drawn
> from you own experience of bottoming. Since you
> began
> having sex with older men at age 12, you must have
> had
> more experience being fucked than I ever will.
>
> I was just reading a study of Greek male-to-male sex
> that argued that bottoming was looked down on
> because
> it lowered the status of the bottom to that of
> women.
>
> The worst was for an older man to let himself be
> fucked by a younge. But even the younger bottoms
> were
> not supposed to enjoy it. They were supposed to give
> themselves just out of admiration for the older man.
>
> For a younger man, being fucked was not so bad
> because
> it was considered natural for boys and youths to
> pass
> through a period of inferiority to older men and it
> was only temporary.
>
> Fucking a guy has often been seen as a way of
> punishing or humilating him. A good excuse for the
> top. Anyway, I enjoy being topped as long as I think
> the fucker likes me and respects my humanity before
> and after fucking me. Greater love hath no man but
> to
> give his asshole to a big buddy.
>
> Jerry
> —
>

Date: Wed, 5 Mar 2003 22:43:14 -0800 (PST)
From: “dominick vyne” View Contact Details
Subject: something about Kansas
To: “Tony S.”
Hey Tony
so, you’re a star
you’re busy as hell
way too many emails
that’s ok
and it’s well understood
so get back with me on this when you can.
i drove back from arizona when i was 20
that is, back to Indiana
took apart my child hood room in my parent’s house
( i had the walls completely covered with clippings and pictures and
writings )
and helped re-paint it.
a passing on…
traded my car in for a little pickup
and heading to Michigan
chicago
wisconsin
Iowa
Kansas City, Kansas
and Lawrence
on the way from Iowa to KC
the transmisson blew out
but i rode it into town
and stayed with a friend there
it took a month before i could leave
whereupon i met the guy who inherited the William S Burroughs estate
his long time editor
and was split between that strange reality in Lawrence
and the strange reality of Kansas
tonight, i was reading a poem
she’s on a long trip from toronto
across america
at the part where she gets to kansas
her car breaks down
four days for her
slightly longer for me
now… i don’t really like the two people i still know in Kansas
i’m not really on speaking terms with the guy in KC
and the guy in Lawrence just thinks he’s so great
and it’s so boring talking to people who think they’re so special
that is
if they don’t see how special you are at the same time
this occurred to me
when i thought of you
you’re special
and being told you’re special
not just by me:
my limited eye being attracted to your flesh
and the few words you’ve used to present yourself
and the many you’ve used to explain your truancy
and you know your special
do you know much about breakdowns?
are you from that town?
what took you to being there…?
was it intentional?
are you already in love?
with yourself? with another?
are you looking for something?
do you know what you got?
is this a welcomed wash through the beautiful emptiness that is the
midwest?
what kind of love do you need, love?
get that transmission replaced…
what stories can you tell about cars…
and your heart in the earth
and feeling the heart of your lover?
i know i’m way overstepping my bounds here
but that’s me
a circue performer in the ring of human emotions and the banks of the
rivers we flow in
i thought i’d fish for you
and see if i caught anything
anything worth jumping in the river for
blessings
…dominic

Date: Wed, 5 Mar 2003 22:30:17 -0800 (PST)
From: “dominick vyne” View Contact Details
Subject: DO WHAT YOU CAN
To: “give me a reminder”
i just got up to Leo’s
i love it here
it is so beautiful
and like the houses of our hosts
( our friend/lovers [but not our soulmates]; “America”…)
it is so neglected.
my brother drove me up
late late last night we got here
it was fun
and i was so tired
had to fight to stay awake the last half hour
tilted my head back far and stared up at the stars and the car
zoomed…
walked with my brother and his new girlfriend
i am happy to see him happy
i’m always happy to see two people happy together
i’m very hurt that these two midwesterners cannot be but what they are
and interract in the standard midwestern heterosexual way
Male dimminishing his mate
female glad to love and be loved
on those terms
UGH
i wanted to tell them to part until they both grew
wanted to tell them not to do it like that
but it’s like telling people not to cook their food
how can you say it without sounding extremest… stupid… offensive?
it’s not my place.
that’s how it was in portland too, seeing sheridan
the whole situation there
and their lives based in settling with a reality rooted in fear
“and that’s all…”
but it’s not my place to tell them
it’s just my place to live my life
and i don’t want to live that one
so i was a visitor
and passed on
now i’m up at Leo’s.
Leo is often too busy
and this house is soooo neglected.
when my brother left i swept for a few hours
moved things around.
sighed a lot.
i have a lot of work to do
but also because Europe realy tired me out.
it was a lot of work
and will continue to be so.
love
attempting to love
SO HARD
tired me out.
so so much did i try
that i neglected myself
and now i will love this house
and i will love myself
and i will rest.
open for visitors until the new moon
then closed for the waning
for me to be quiet
for me to be inside
fasting and resting
listening.
Leo get’s back late march, near the new moon.
we will fast together
we will spend a week or two together
sleeping together
not having sex
fasting.
then yacov will come
(who knows about the future?)
Yacov amazes me
he’s so fucking annoying.
all of my negative traits
AMPLIFIED
and WAY out of control
and totally blind
but with such a good heart
well,
we will travel south
then east
Texas?
Oklahoma?
New orleans, i think
i will leave him there
and take a bus?
hitch hike?
walk 10,000 miles?
i will knock on your door
or is it unlocked, can i just walk in?
Have you Seen “Bowling for Columbine”?
would you like to go to Short Mountain for Beltane?
perhaps Yacov and i could pick you up and we could all go together
perhaps just you and i
perhaps not.
Yacov said
“when you get there
DON’T talk about any of your personal issues
just enjoy eachother
if you want to do therapy shit
go to a therapist”
and i thought about laying out the lines
drawing up contracts!
and i remembered how we speak to eachother
not with detailed words
we talk with our bodies
our food
our hands
our eyes
our tongues
our holes
wholly wholly wholly!
we will remember our language together
and expand it.
all of this is hither nor thither
i look forward to being in love with you again, my dear
(wink)
see you soon.
…Vorpal blade went Snicker Snak
he came galumphing back
what else could he do?
— Robert Pittenridge wrote:
———————————
Thank you for calling me…hearing you is what I needed. Everything
started swimming back into place. Since the day I wrote you and said
“No”, its all been static, no good, no good at all.
I was hurt, I was miserable, I was longing for you…I kicked my heart
back down time after time.
I brought your photos with me to Little Rock, and the painting of you,
I was talking to them and not to you…My mistake for months and
months….always to the flat images of you and never to the full
fleshed out shining version. Fantasy. Masterbation when it should be
manifest.
I love you. I always have, since the first hours of being with you. You
are the most beautiful, mostest one.
I had a conversation with Alan last night….He said: ” I dont
understand why you and Dominic are not together, you two have such
passion for each other..” “I know you love him…” “He challenges
you, and you need that.”
And then Angy said tonight: “Your face always brightens, and your
heart swells when you speak of him, you know you love hime deeply…do
something about it.”
They are right. You are right. I was right(once upon a time) I love
you. We complete a circuit.
You share my dreams, you understand. You really do, unlike anyone else
can.
Oh, and by the way, Im sorry for trying the asshole shit with you…..I
realized that it was stupid. But I had convinced myself that you would
be better off to just let you go…better for you, I didnt want you to
waste your time, to miss out on finding something I wasnt sure I could
give. Its hard. I so wanted to hold you when we were together in SF. I
was sad all weekend. No one else comes close. I was a dummo…I have
been for too long.
I’m really tired of being scared of you, it, us.
mumble mumble…I dont know what else to say at the moment…
Thank you for never giving up. Thank you for being a star. Thank you
for loving me.
I love you. Im still here for you…and Im glad that I can still feel
you. I wont push you away again.
Come visit Ruby Hill, please. Lets spend some real time together again.
Take my hand again…I was wrong to withdraw it.
Alan wants me to send his love and invitations as well. “He’s Family,
and family is always welcome.” He said.
How about it Boyo?
Message found in a fortune cookie: “DO WHAT YOU CAN”
Robert Pittenridge
www.avalon.net/~asmorti/robbear.html