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How could I have never met this guy before?
He lives in Jackson Heights
And has never heard of The Radical Faeries
If I could ever love a drag queen
It’d be one like this
!!!FREAKS!!!
I ran into him coming out of the casting room for a middle eastern art
magazine…
What luck!
Why were the trains so fucked up today?
Oh yeah
Mercury is in Retrograde
My brother just had a Son a few days back:
Baby born with mercury retrograde
I said
” he’ll be an artist… ”
Without mentioning that he’ll probably be dyslexic
New President
While mercury is on retrograde
It’s going to be a tough few weeks for him to get anything done
With everything snarling and fucking up
And what is a Mercury Retrograde presidency look like?
We’re going to find out.
Good times coming back?
Like Wonder Showzen “Patience”
Undo it all backwards to make it right?
Oy!
Trash everywhere today…
Why aren’t they collecting?
Garbage men on strike?
Let go?
City downsizing…?
A flash through my mind of the future where there is no garbage collection…
Now
Eating bad dinner on Houston
(wishing I could call a friend… But too sticky)
I wish he’d only give me one disposable fork…
And this big plastic disposable tray…
What is the phobia of trash?
Trash
Photos of me in this month’s Details magazine
(edit: wrong. in the April issue)
Went for two castings today…
Saw an amazing queen from Queens who’s never heard of the faeries…
I’ll drag him to a gathering soon
Columbian guy…
Now?
Now?
Go buy some magazines?
Before going Nowhere for a drink?
last night i went to see a show
some kid i read about in BUTT
and met through the faeries
i’d found him again on-line months ago
capriciously, i remember
but downloaded his performance from
spinning on air
saved it in my iTunes
and it came up randomnly two weeks ago
i googled him again
and found he was in NYC
i got two free tickets
and brought a friend
i hadn’t bathed for a few days
we sat in the audience
arriving just before the first song
but after the beginning
the boy had a high-wire voice
my companion in awe remarking
“such tension!”
i somehow love songs sung from the prospective of the mother left at home
‘these flowers’ by Martha W
what was the name of this boy’s songs?
calling the wandering child “wrecking ball”
going on
dancing with text to a Jacques Brel song
growing up with a French Father
i suppose he’s fluent
(my weakest link: only one languages; my shame)
showing us slides of his own niece
(all of his slides were moving pictures, even if there was no action)
singing a song
somehow the lyrics sticking in my head was a hammering repetition of
“i will still love you”
or continue
or not stop
somehow expressing an endless capability
some faith for the child
to know she’d always be loved
“you don’t need to be perfect”
“don’t have to”
ta
ah…
with two free tickets
i felt it fair to give him forty dollars for his CDs
happy to have some his recorded music
and on such strange little shiny discs
so antiquated already
(i haven’t owned a CD player in well over a decade… apart from what’s in the laptops i carry around)
Winter has been hard
that’s what it’s for
cold and dark
and numbing
my friend and i went to some after party
this was the end of some festival
neither of us knew anything about
free food
and some other faeries i knew
i didn’t eat
but had a $6 glass of wine
we drank and talked
and Watched
and i marveled at New York
as a child
once ( a few times )
my best friend and i got lost in Chicago
pretending we belonged
children (18)
on rooftops
in eagle’s nest bars
sitting around people with real lives
wondering…
now, here in New York
i love going to strange bars
talking with strange people
normal people
just people i don’t know
don’t know themselves
don’t know anyone
we’re all lonely here
NO!
every black boy on the subway knows eachother
they laff
and gesture with their eyes
and yell at the homeless ladies
all with the same stories
— can you fault them? they’re freezing and hungry (and fat)
someone smells of of whiskey
gone sour through a lifetime of breathing it
I’m at a party on the top floor of the Public Theater!
(sorry, i got lost for a moment)
i’m a white boy
but i can talk to anyone
so i know everyone as well
(a million times said to me ” i don’t know why i’m telling you this ” and last night i understood: it’s because i can hear you and i will desperately wish, in my heart, that you hear yourself and do something to bring yourself into integrity with your wishes or pains… and Be Alive… i hear you: i see you: Be Alive.)
I’m at a Party on the Top Floor of the public Theater
and I don’t particularily belong here
i’m not here for the free food
or to mack on the faerie kid i hardly know
who i just saw performing
— i don’t need to sit around the creative kids
to absorb their creative life-force
though i may take pictures of a boy i find beautiful
(in his meaty/pretty way)
i just love sitting here
surrounded by all the strangers of New York
some other pretty boy a few tables away
that my friend has a relationship with (they’ve never met, but for their eyes)
alone
many others in groups
many others hungry and lonely
we sit and talk
entertained by eachother
surrounded by all of these beautiful strangers
then leave
for a bar
already near 11pm
what bar?
it’s snowing heavily
heavenly
it’s beautiful
we laugh at St Mark’s street
and go into some silly automat
buy things with coins, pull down the doors
eat stale lifeless food
with bright colors!
remember when this was normal?
a few lives ago for us…
we land at Area 8
or Section 8?
and sit and talk
here
i buy us both Manhattans for $6 a pop
which is a good deal
though we don’t get to keep the shaker
(there may be only one behind the bar, i have compassion)
we drink two
and a glass of water
while watching a few episodes of The Golden Girls
— i haven’t seen it in so long:
Horny Old Ladies!
wow!
those wide faces..
Bea Arthur IS Beautiful
and “Rose” reminds me of my mother…
my companion seems to know more about TV than i would have suspected
telling me “sophia” had a stroke that allows her only to say the truth
“it was in the pilot episode”
?!!?
getting a little drunk
talking about how America’s racist past is being white-washed
and an artist i met a few nights ago is sure to include these in his paintings
a can of Uncle Remus Syrup (they actually made that?)
painted next to a face-mask of Aunt Jemima
mentioning Obama turns political
and i make the pickinini joke
“Rick Warren and a gay marching band! and Pickinini’s eating watermellon!”
and some beautiful black boy is sitting next to me
(I thought he was TRICKY when he came in, but no, a young 20-something from St Louis)
Saint Louis!
what’s life like for a queer black boy growing up in St Louis?
American, i’m sure.
then Dynasty comes on
at which point i wish i were in amsterdam
but walk outside to stand next to a shy guy
and smoke some pot i intended to bring to share with some friends staying in the Trump Tower
but now it’s way past their bed-time i’m sure
and we miss our seats at the bar and head to the bathroom
where we piss
then i suggest we smoke some Salvia
— in a tiny tiled room, the two of us (my friend of the evening)
looking into a mirror
talking about the experience of not being the self
but seeing the self there, yes
but being the self that is animating all of us
feeling the hand on the back of the head
the puppet head
the baby being cradled by the mother
ever touch is magic
everything is LIFE
we head out
back into the snow
the slushy sidewalk
past Phoenix (no thank you)
it looked like the gates of hell!
but walking along 14th street
i decide i am finally hungry
and go to get some Artichoke pizza
in there we meet DandyLion
(who we’d spoken of earlier in the evening, now living here in Layard’s old room)
by the time our pizza came
it was too hot to eat
i suggest we cool it outside
they suggest we eat it in NoWhere
so in we went
back room
tonight
lit by red lights and a huge heating lamp
there was a drink there waiting for us
– we were thankful
DL said he’d never tried Salvia
so i gave him some
and a strange leather queen (“skiing the slopes”)
stood around
looking at the pipe
having no idea what it was
but wanting some
i smoked again, my friend smoked again (i should have just used his name earlier, it would have been easier, but now i must keep up the enigma)
the leather queen stared at our crotches
occasionally trying to touch us
we shewed him away
so strange
and i was so relieved when DL became talkative again
and was able to describe his experience with familiarity
even though he prefaced it with “i’ve never felt anything like that”
he was able to talk about the layers of reality and dimensions striating with a common grace
— the last two people i’d smoked out before tonight both spent the entirety of the trip screaming and fearing their death!
(no fun)
our pizza was gone
it was still snowing
it was near 3am or 4am?
no no
i took the Q to the 1
and got home at 3:44
my apartment
so warm and cozy
i nuzzled on the day bed a bit
then put myself to sleep proper
New York
so exhausting
so lovely.
(clicking on any photo will show the rest i took)
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Taken from a wall of photos in a main street cafe in a small town
i saw Slumdog Millionaire yesterday
and I loved it
but i think i have a loyalty to Danny Boyle from my childhood in England…
the filth was terrifying
but i’ve seen similar stuff in Brazil and South Africa
still.. nothing THAT intense (is it really like that in India? or was that played up for the screen? i imagine it is that bad or worse… maybe not such pretty trash)
still, what struck me hardest about all the strange injustice in the film
was the horror of modernization there
( i know.. i know.. )
and all the fucking cars…
SO MANY CARS
i hate cars.
i don’t like how they look or smell or sound
it’s kinda fun to drive them
but i’m happy to give that up
well worth it to get rid of the fuckers
that’s why i live in NYC
i can go hundreds of miles and not need a car
i’ve come to see cars as the largest symptom of humanities self-destruction
Any of you reading this
have you been to Switzerland?
have you been there when they have Car-Free days?
the center of the cities, the old towns
always have a day a year when cars are not allowed
and people walk the streets
fairs
and kids playing on the pavement . . .
could we make that happen here in NYC?
i keep wanting to get some initiative going to get some fucking pedestrian and bike ONLY streets here in NY
why not?
there are so many fucking streets in this city
why not every 10 blocks? every 12?
only people on bikes and foot
… maybe an avenue or two, yeah?
every city i’ve been in in europe has streets with no cars
sure, they’re old and tiny and midaevil
but why not here?
it’s GREEN after all…
anyone more politically minded than me know how i would start this sort of thing into action?
i wrote a lot about my father while i was back in the midwest a few weeks ago
an occurance i didn’t recount:
the last day i was there
my father’s dentist got in touch with him and told him a spot in his mouth had come back as being cancerous
a day later
a second biopsy prove to be malignant
a week later
i spoke with my father on the phone
and he told me he’d had two operations
— he sounded very tired, crestfallen
the next night
in talking with my mother
she asked me if i’d heard about my father’s Cancer of the Mouth
and it just fell out of my mouth
“serves him right: all the shit he spits out of his mouth, hopefully it will teach him a lesson, but i doubt it”
i’ve always been the sort who believes Cancer is caused by Emotions more than environmental toxicity
some organ-metaphore of sickness becoming manifest
as i wrote about
my father screams a lot
and makes people feel horrible
at least Us
the people He Loves
he hurts us the most
of course
all the poison pouring out of his mouth must sting him a little each time
and over time…
but i don’t hold ill-will to my father
and it is very important to me that i stay in a state of forgiveness with him
forgiveness and love
after the week i spent with him
upon my return
so much of him had rubbed of on me
the first few days i was back
i felt like a natural bigot, racist and misogynist
it was so shocking to me that i noticed it in every occurrence
i was raised like that
and certainly have remnants of it in my psyche that i deal with at times
but rarely do i ever feel it so strongly and Seriously as i did in those few days
— my father is really not a good influence on me
STILL, i don’t wish him any harm
even, when i was talking with a friend (of 75) last night
talking about the longevity of our relatives
i spoke of my father
heart attack, diabetes, cancer of the mouth
a part of me just wished he die now
so i didn’t have to suffer through watching him with the strokes and elderly demential/helplessness
some how spare me the guilt of not going to take care of him any longer than a few hours before he expires
Love
Love for that man
some Kinda Love
i do not understand
my love…
i wish
i always say this
for years and years
i wish i were a better lover.
a writer reminded me today
that being in a boring place is EXCELLENT for writing
— i got a lot of writing done in Indiana
and have done nearly none since i’ve returned
still: i’ve felt a strong presence since i’ve returned:
i’m Alone
i’m very accustomed to that
and the lack of it drives me crazy
when i was younger
i often wished for the Proper Friend
Lover
Mentor
something… a partner… Companion
but i traveled for 12 years
there was such intense loneliness in that
so often i felt my heart breaking
looking at the beauty of an ocean
or some huge wall in China
without that Lover with me
it all felt flat
still
experiencing majesty Alone is more comfortable and acceptable
than sharing it with someone i feel doesn’t appreciate it
my Sickness
or
Disfunction
does not allow anyone to meet my standards
not anyone Real, i assume
so how could i ever enjoy Beauty with a Friend
knowing that his heart Resonates with Joy as mine does?
if not the same Joy as mine… then at least his own?
Joy in the experience we’re having. Joy in the Joy i’m experiencing, and he separately.
my recent friend, i felt he was only ever happy at seeing me happy
not at all understanding what it was that made me blissful
and that feeing of being accompanied by someone who doesn’t understand me
makes me feel much worse than Alone
but Lonely
and worse than that
Lonely and Occupied
which not only makes me feel Bored, but Trapped
thus… now i am Alone
i am not lonely
but i have noticed it a few times these last few days
the feeling of walking through tunnel
Alone
or seeing Slumdog Millionaire today
Alone
the sunset on the building outside the window
the plethora of beautiful men
the music in my head
i’m very Alone right now
and i figure it is because i’m not a likable person if spent too much time around
— that is how i feel about most people, so i’m sure it’s true of myself
still
i’m very grateful to be Alone
i feel Free
on my own Terms
and able to have experiences without the odd feeling of guilt that has been following me around when i felt so betrothed…
New Experiences. . .
i can tell he was an Anchor
one i fought too hard against
i suppose that is not the medicine i need…
yet i hope
in this freedom
i can come to peace with myself. . .
line from a book i’m reading:
“In the lifelong romance each man has with himself, he should know which vows he’s sworn”
– from “The Gay Philosopher” by Edmund White
upon his first visit to The United States
(Maryland, i believe)
he poured himself a glass of cool water from the tap
on the tropical island he is from
Cool Water is never Cold
just not hot… only warmed by the ambient heat of everything there
here… Up North
the water comes out of the tap with a chill
he was entirely thrilled
he was just a boy
and could not stop drinking
until he’d made himself sick
i think of this
waking at 4am from being overheated by down and radiator
and pouring myself a glass of water
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