a month ago
Gene came to visit
I was surprised
two of the three nights I slept with him
undisturbed
held tight in his arms…
… how long had it been?
a few nights later
stoned high
I was with Ray
after playing
talking
a beautiful connection
nothing dramatic
…well, a little overwhelmed by good fortune
but not to the point of fantasy
he fell asleep
I lay next to him
wrapt in arms
loving it
feeling his body
his breathing
feeling, thinking through him
wow, how nice
but too exciting
for minutes or hours
I could not sleep
I had to move to the other bed…
then a few nights later
I slept with Koos
we had
many things
talked and dreamed
worked stuff out
entertained
simply happy and comfortable
when I was ready to sleep though
I rolled away from him onto my back
when I saw him at the work room later in the day
he told me he didn’t sleep at all
that I had rolled back into him
and gripped him tight in my arms
squeezing him
he
…liked it
but dared not wake me
and could not sleep
lay the rest of the night holding still
appreciating his predicament
said he was surprised he was able to pry himself loose without waking me
I slept well…
but we didn’t sleep well together again after than
nor have I again with any others…
we’re those arms of sleeping comfort a gift from that mercury retrograde?
I thought about it then
and now
and again
as I used to often
appreciate
you who can sleep in cuddling
I remember
in my youth
the few I could sleep with…
wrapt in arms
carrying me with them into the blackest ocean….
did any of you
(from my generation)
listen to Nine Inch Nails as a child
(early teenage years)
and take it all too seriously?
agreeing with every word?
every discordant burst of distortion?
I was reading my journals (from 2006)
to a friend last night
and there was an exchange in there (copied from Skype) with a boy I used to really love
— we connected via lots of things
music a main one
NIN an important aspect:
he told me later that I believed the music more than he did
— I remember
when I hit puberty
sitting in church
I had an awful realization:
that all of the congregation
(and society, as I took it)
Believed in all this shit
I had just thought it was some sort of entertainment
theater…
well,
my friend
he seemed to believe all of this pop music was Theater
= I had taken it all as Gospel
So last night
I showed my (new) friend
the videos for Closer and Wish
he was impressed that this shit was happening in the early ’90s
and I elaborated all of the themes in NIN’s music from that time:
self hatred.
betrayal by the loved one and God
hatred of the loved one and God
pretty much hopelessness and suffering
feeling imprisoned
mwa mwa mwa
Yeah!
I said
Good Times!
he said
No: not good times
so
of course
I have Wish stuck in my head today
so many brilliant lines!
fucking monster song…
I remember willfully separating myself from listening to NIN
I took it all too seriously
like Trent was my mouth piece
I did the same with Radiohead and Tori and PJ and Bjork and Morrissey
fortunately I was able to make my way back to some of them as friends
we had grown together
instead of just apart
as I had from some of them
I’ve never really listened much to anything after Halo 10
but enjoyed the soundtrack to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
and am glad he’s still making music
and is free from having to write lyrics so much
have any of you
around my age
who married Trent
when we were young
stay married to him all these years?
I think he’s divorced himself over the years…
I wonder if his beauty is as magnetic as it once was…
.
:.:
very vivid night of dreaming
even awake
I closed my eyes
thought of something
like
a man I could feel an amazing connection with
and there
immediately
coming out of the crowd
a large dark bearded
broad chested
well dressed…
in one dream
I was staying with my brother in his apartment
the parents were visiting
his wife had left
she was Rachel Berry
or something
the colors were Piscean
all blues and purples
the parents were visiting
in the city square outside the building
there was a fair going on
the gate keeper was a handsome late 30 something Beary guy
the owner, similar but much older
every night we were out
we would go through the fair
fun house
lounge
dancers
rides
the gate keeper or owner would always have a package for me
there was always some sort of flirting with them
but I was always with my parents
after the parents left
(was I also my brother? he wasn’t louis, though I think my parents were my parents… my brother was more City
tall, business, dapper…)
the partner was large
all painted in blues and purples
I remember telling him I think she did a good job
she selected the colors
outside the window of the room I was sleeping in was a field
then more houses stretching off into the hills
one morning I woke to see steeples and other roof tops spiraling up through the soil
until the field was filled with buildings just like everything else
his wife came over
or her brother?
or was this my sister’s husband?
no, it was …
a man
odd
I thought of him as straight
but as we lay around talking on my bed he kept trying to have sex with me
he convinced me to come with him to a hidden place
we were running down long interior corridors
all green with industrial feel
all metal and big bolts on everything
everything opaque
we kept running
when we’d stop and look in each others eyes
someone would come through the myriad doors
I wasn’t sure if I should be doing this
but he was do insistent and …
in the dream before
when I woke at dawn
there was a van
camping?
with friends
broken down?
sleeping in different places…
what was the tension and drive?
similar walking through houses
and confused relationships
mystical objects
now sunk back into my viscera…
.
:.:
so!
squander the beauty then!
is it limitless?
but we make it!
all endless things…
but why side with ignorance?
free yourself of those desires!
(or all is wasted…)
.
:.:
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will be done
a pair of trousers
hems cut on a diagonal
inside or outside?
lace billowing down
inside or outside?
writing two hours a day
shaving once a week
writing two hours
twice a day
doing the work
exuberantly telling the story
suffering through it
year after year
day after day
the story you want to be told
seeing the wise
those who act
their satisfaction and excitement
in prayers of gratitude
"I am This"
.
:.:
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for the last week and a half I hated my hair and couldn’t bear to look at it…
but smearing all sorts of stuff in it for a week and only washing it with water has finally made me enjoy the look of it again
when I was younger I always wanted to look like Egon Scheile
taut, angular, waifish, viscious, lined and full of contrast
oh, but he died of the flu when the weight of Saturn tested him
I’ve been trying to take on more weight…
but I’m still quite thin (though heavier than I’ve ever been)
and I can’t help but enjoy this manic hair…
.
:.:
why shouldn’t I kiss him?
his wrinkly face…
I love him
he’s part of me
made the way for me
greater than I
in experience and size
the weight of the world
gathered around his heavy thighs
but when he smiles
he’s known far more sorrows and joys
that laugh is resigned
but also deeper than any boy’s
he sees in me
so many of the dreams of his youth
what he coulda been
and the flickering of his imagining
the lives of so many others he’s loved
dreamed of
the beauties on the street
in pages
in classes and jobs
the friends he’s fallen in love with
carried off into fantasies
maybe
maybe with me…
love and imagination
hope and expectation
to see me be something great before his eyes finally close
and all that I might do
long after those
what is it I do for him?
give him inspiration to keep up the work
in the obviously setting sun?
help him lay down his tools and come to rest?
someone to inspire him to top his best?
to make one more great success for a new one who could appreciate it differently than the rest?
it goes far beyond the physical
but why wouldn’t I kiss him?
lay naked in bed with him and hold him?
remind him
it’s not beauty he’s lost
just youth
my eyes not tricked by that
my heart still enflamed
many mistake worth
with prettiness
many mistake beauty
for youth
but would you want to taste an apple before it’s ripened?
I prefer maduros
sweet and plump
yes
my love isn’t all about devouring
but embodying his whole life
as much as I can fit into
not just getting caught in his crotch
but feeling his full heart
his heavy shoulders
his broad chest
and weary legs
wiggling into his fingers and toes
dropping down
into his balls
but not living
in just any one part
can we every fully embody another?
can there be a perfect fit?
should we wait for that?
what’s more important in a partner?
one I want to look at all the time?
one I can have constant conversation?
(with comfortable knowing silence)
one I can always feel desire for/with?
the hot hot sex?
the making love?
the magical rituals of being
union
exploration
re-creation
what?
must they be separate?
why not?
I have lovers everywhere
I love him to look at
them
I love him to lay with
hear stories of living
him to be excited about music
and the architecture of the universe
yes, music of the spheres
him to share the drama with
the art of story telling
the others telling
him to listen to my stories
him to eat food with
to be someone to cook for
someone to make clothes for
someone to get dressed for
why just one?
rest in peace
knowing I’m loved by all of them
family
Sons
Brothers
Fathers
Grand Fathers
and The Great
a world of men learning to be in love with each other
hold eachother’s hands crossing the street
shoulders in toil
testicals in desire
– to give… recieve… validate… dominate…
learn to respect and reflect each other
resonate in sympathy
nourish eachother to divinity
support eachother into deepest rest
share in the widest joy
and the most arduous suffering
these dreams of mine are so simple and clear
now
if only they could be so clear
always
when I’m waking…
.
:.:
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