he said
“you have a knack for attracting people to you who have the same pathologies as you
but are less aware, less in control
so you can point the finger
instead of doing your own shit”
‘i USED TO!’
i defended
‘ i am weeding them out of my life, hardly have any left ‘
i paused, my mind knowing i was not entirely being truthful about that one
‘ i’m still learning ‘
he said
” Yeah?
well
you can only do second grade so many times…
besides
you don’t need to score a 100 on every test ”
i said
‘ but i’m working on it
i got an apartment here
first one i’ve ever had like this…
not my own yet… but first rent i’ve paid since ’99
— i’m being stationary for a while
so i can acheive all the things i want to acheive
that i can only do while i’m standing still ‘
” but you’re not doing that ”
‘ what? ‘
” you’re not doing that, are you?
you haven’t been here since you’ve been here ”
‘well, i’ve been to Tennessee and boston and philly… but i’m HERE
i’m Based here
.. it’s inertia
i’ve gotta slow down before i can settle
i’m slowing… ‘
he said
“you should take some writing courses”
the idea hadn’t even occurred to me!
“that’s your passion. you want to be a writer, don’t you?”
‘ i am a writer… i don’t want to be a fucking journalist! ‘
“what, you don’t want to write editorials.. only want to write about yourself?”
he said
” it’s time you started living your passion
not just jumping into
and surfing on the passion of other people you encounter in the world ”
– i feel like he’s not known me since i was 19…
and
as i’ve often witnessed in relationships
ours will always be the same as the day we met
Fixed
but i’ve grown.
he said
” you should get yourself a therapist ”
i make snide
dismissive comments
but then say
‘ i’ve been thinking about it
everyone else seems to have one in this town … ‘
i’m scared, aren’t i?
he says
” i once told you there are those who can do it alone and others that need help…
but it’s really hard to give yourself a heart operation or brain surgery ”
he said
” it’s not healthy!
you’re having sex with these men
and that is the main event
that’s what their paying for
not how good of a massage you give
and it’s not good for your..”
he holds his hand vertical in front of his face and stammers
‘ my integrity ‘
“Yeah!”
right.
” you should be doing that with people you love and care for
and there should be no dollar amound…
anywhere NEAR it!
you’re all about pleasing these older men
and sex for sex
and it’s giving yourself away
and it’s wasting
…
and you’ve got such potential…
but maybe that’s all it’s ever gonna be
who the fuck are you?
do you know who you are?
go find out who you are!
”
“we’ve all been waiting”
they said.
hey
who are you?
who posted a comment to my last entry
saying you had lost touch with me
and found me again
and now you’re living in NewPort Oregon
restarting your business
common
give me more
send me an email
or comment to this
and leave your address
and
NAME!
…dominic
my new phone has a special buttons to make voice-notes
-riding the subway a while ago
(5:03pm 4/7/05)
i took two notes
reminding me i wanted to write about this:
so many people on the subways sleep
nodding out
from exhaustion of the day’s work?
or the lack of oxygen
in those deep tunnels
a million crammed in people
windows sealed, now
air conditioning
nodding off
are they dreaming?
i must read books
or do yoga, qi-gung
or photograph them…
think about them.
waiting is always an active process for me
…
these are the two voice records, directly transcribed
Bridget arrived back to the house the day after i did:
so much for time alone in the apartment here…
she left Phoenix, AZ at 11:30 at night
and flew
disappearing three hours in the time-change
while sleeping on the plane
she had a dream:
”
i was in the back seat of a car
it wasn’t moving, no one else in it
the radio was on
you were talking about your recent success
the column you had in the magazine
how surprised you were that the gay magazine wanted to print your writing
— you had been writing about sex you had had with two women
which might just be the same old boring
“gay man turned straight” story
but then you went on to talk about how that was just a precurser to the really amazing thing in your life:
your new lover
who is an F to M tranny
and he’s blowing your mind and satisfying you in a way you’ve never been satisfied…
”
—
which is funny
because i’ve been thinking so much about heterosexual sex lately
and had the conversation [again] about wanting to know and F to M
and understand the path they walk
… sometime recently…
i was typing in things into google
un-known numbers in my phone
other numbers i knew in my head
names that had turned into myths…
i found this:
i nominate trevis hutsell, a friend that i have lost contact with, who made up The Distance Game. at a designated time, i stood on the Hawthorne Bridge, and he on the Morrison, and we waved red flags at each other so we could see each other over the distance. trevis, i havent seen you in years, but i always think of that whenever i cross the bridges. it makes me feel like no matter if i am near a person or far away, if i know where they are or not, if we cared about each other we could wave really big red flags and see each other.
Genevieve Dellinger
Wednesday, September 25, 2002 at 13:14:38 (PDT)
from
http://www.charmbracelet.org/guestbook.html
Philadelphia…
it is Big
why do i keep thinking it’s a city in miniature?
i walked…
i had One client in the city
i went there specifically to…
well…
up near the museum
but further away
what’s a castle doing here?
everything seems so particular
look: brick sidewalks
for ten feet…
History.
What amazing buildings…
i feel like i’m in a stage set…
a museum
who needs to go into the museums here?
oh: look at that Ball-Shaped man reading a plaque
where is he from?
— there’s his wife
kids?
Chille…
flags…
international city
there’s a Toy City Hall in the centre of it all
walk
i don’t understand directions here..
but i’m figuring it out
on such a beautiful day
in such an in teresting toy city
i move through it
wind in my hair
strutting down the street
eventually
i catch a bus
coz this kid tells me i should:
we’re doing a massage exchange
he’s great
he asks me if i’ve been to Heartwood..
(laughs)
i give him my massage
condenced into an hour
-that’s all the time we’ve got: he says
he looks totally blown out when i’m done with him
i’m all uppity, happy
full of myself-
when i do massage trades
i’m ususally rather non-plussed with the other’s style
(ahh, i miss bigredpaul)
this kid jabs into my neck
tells me to start breathing
and takes me for a ride
Brilliant!
he went an hour and a half on me
coaching me
interracting with me
pushing me
blasting through me:
Excellent
but now he’s late
we exchange info
and i leave
blissed out
floating around:
where am i?
i call a guy who.. i THINK, lives down there…
Ah, he does
he invites me over for a cuddle
but it turns big-tyme sexual: he’s a sweetie
we cuddle and order pizza
watch some StarGate SG-1
whatever
in the midst of that
my phone rings
and it’s the is faery kid i know saying “i’m standing outside your door”
his boy friend emailed me
about two weeks ago
asking if he could stay with me…
i told him “Sure: just let me know ahead of time”
EEESH!
so i rush out the door
jump in a cab
and head for the place i was staying up-town
say good bye to my gracious hosts
(they have a dinner guest)
and take the lift back down to the waiting taxi cab
for him to deliver me to the chinese bus…
and although i make it with only a minute to spare to make the 9pm bus…
there IS no 9pm bus.
it’s hourly all day
then goes from 8 to 8:30 to 10:30
WHAT?
even the grey hound doesn’t have another bus back to NYC til midnight.
Ok.
[breathe]
i have some phone conversations.
i play tetris on my mobile phone
(i just found it for free on the net!)
i get on the bus
and i’m reading Rikki Ducornet’s “Butcher’s Tales”
and though i had been enjoying the fantasies…
three stories in a row were like goth-girl’s terror poetry
— just trying to be as sick and mean and terrible about everything as possible
ok
i closed the book..
and drifted off…
the bus picked up motley pack of chinese in front of the bob-evan’s somewhere in New Jersey…
then we were in saten island
then 8th ave and 62nd st
in brooklyn
this black guy is talking really loud on the phone about his friend who got shot
and how his generation was the last decent people born on this planet
then he starts bitching to his girlfriend… i imagine
about how he has to make his ride
and the bus driver is late
then he starts making a scene
and is shouting
talking loudly
not in sentances
or to anyone
but like blaring a ghetto blaster
or subwoofer in the back of yr audi
he wants everyone to hear
bitching bitching bitching moaning
i was about ready to turn around and slap him
then i remembered the blessings of headphone:
i put on “Cause=Time” by Broken Social Scene
“and you all need to be the cause…”
“cuz you just want to fuck the cause…”
it lasts til where they drop me off in china town
and i turn a corner and my senses guide me Home…
i am so happy to be back in NYC
the buildings are all the right size here: big
dark
dirty
the city surrounds me
guides me along with it’s callused hands
chipped nails
lovingly…
the Fae kid is waiting inside the door of the apartment when i get there
and i get a surprise call from a friend of mine from TN (who’s moved to GA now…)
and we go up stairs, A and I
and we shower
and he’d stayed here once, three years ago
— it’s a small world.
he has to be up at 7 am
to catch a bus by 8:40
of course
it’s 8:13 or whatever when he leaves
i’m rushing him out the house like a frantic mother
“GO! You’ll MISS YOUR BUSS!”
then i fall back
and luxuriate in the empty house:
i don’t have to do anything today
fine.
i won’t.
(well, dear readers, i did actually spend over an hour on the phone sorting out banking and cell phones, but you can blink over that…)
Oh Come Let US Adore Him…
(x2)
[ if i don’t write it down
but think of writing it down
all the beautiful composition of it
unravels in my head… ]
Sitting at the table
on chairs
nearly two hundred years old
eating simple
spaghetti
with oil and garlic.
Everything in the house should be in a museum
how old is that?
where is that from?
i let my hands graze them…
the pottery
the little statues
oh look!
there’s a pre-columbian jade figurine from mexico!
(i don’t want to put my mobile phone next to it: don’t want to fuck up it’s vibes)
everything in the house kinda gets me high
just touching it-
the historty
the life.
it’s almost as good as being in Europe
where every building is 500 years old
no…
The living ones here move slow
like the Burmen cats
who loll about
and sleep all day
S sits in his chair
nods off
watches TV
nods off
volume up all the way
nodding off
have a conversation with J?
have to shout
what did you say?
how old is that?
i lift the little stool with filigreed wood patterns under the marble top
there’s a click…
the conversations are like clouds
bilious
they float around without going anywhere
what’s the answer to that question?
let’s just talk about it…
They love eachother, though
been together 35 years
he helps him across the room
soothes his eyes with ointments and drops
listens…
at the dinner table
on 200 year old chairs
they scuttle fingers across the wooden surface
(how old?)
to catch eachother’s hands
like someone
in
love
Can i touch this?
precious
should be in a museum…
how did it survive this long?
i’m slightly envious
slightly covetous
but what can i do?
i’m not a libra nor a taurus
how could i possess such beauty and stability?
such patience?
i can hardly tolerate walking so slow to keep up with them
down the city-block long hall way…
through the conversations
“we keep a million books around the house so we can look up the answer to any topic that comes our way…”
‘ my generation has the internet for that ‘
” well yes: but we like to own things; have them at hand ”
“yes, like this: do you know why Marshmallow is called Marshmallow?”
‘ um, most of my knowledge comes from context and supposition
but i just heart recently that babies were given marshmallow to chew on
and i know that’s a root that is good for lungs and bladder…
it’s slightly sweet… grows in marshes…
i assume
once it was chewed up
it becomes fiberous and puffy…
like the licorice root i always chew on… ‘
“well, yes… Exactly.”
his breath smells of old man…
i’d never let him get like that
take those poisons
he wants him to live forever…
pickled!
but i would control everything!
Eat pro-biotics!
do yoga!
NO!
go for a walk!
swim!
eat green leafy vegetables!
no more TV..
stories…
draw me
lay down with me
caress my skin
be adored…
to feel these men admire my youth
my soft skin…
29 stories down
the homeless men play chess on the street corner at 9pm…
how do men become homeless?
impossible!
the world is FULL of loving, beautiful, kind, GIVING people!
you just don’t know how to receive!
don’t allow yourself to be humble!
don’t care about yourself enough to put even the small effort into keeping yourself in a position where you can make choices about where you sleep and what you eat!
where once i thought they just rejected all of society
YES!
even the LOVE!
i’m angry
why is there so much deceit?
i called this man
and told him i had to be back here at 7:30 for dinner
he told me to jump in a cab…
hmmm
we talked nearly two years ago
and when i came out here
i tried to meet him
and he would not explain why not
but he said he didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore…
OK?
then he contacted me a few months ago in SF
and asked to see me
OK?
calls me many times last night and today
i got to see him
it’s 6pm
no, i get to his place
it’s 5:30
i must have read my clock wrong on my computer
(it’s a 24hr clock… i’ve been using a 24hr clock since ’95… i still mistake it sometimes… but very rarely)
and the clock on my cell phone
maybe it changed it self wrong when crossing the border:
i always place the blame
First
with myself.
i keep watching the clock
and at 7pm
i tell him i must go shower
and head home
as i leave
another calls
i let it go to voicemail til i get on the street
as i do
i call him back
he wants me to come over and sleep with him
‘ did you have dinner yet? ‘
i ask
” ..No” he says
i tell him i have to have dinner with the people i’m staying with
and i’m already late for that…
i’ll call him when i’m done…
i start walking back
call my gracious hosts
and get their voicemail
– i tell them i am late and will be there soon
i run into the Whole Foods to buy some Açai
and something chocolatey… with caramel… hmmm and pecans!
back walking on the street
i check my phone to see what time i left that message saying i was late already
my phone says it’s 8:36
???!
oh no!
is the phone the wrong time?
i look up at the great City Hall in the centre of Philadelphia
it says it’s nearly 9 o’clock: certainly
hmmm
i get back to their place just after 9
and appologize…
i feel confused.
did that man change the clock in his bedroom so he could get an extra hour with me?
i check my voicemail
the man who wants me to come sleep with him
left a message with me
that call i missed
as i was leaving the first’s house
— he tells me he just got finished eating dinner with his friends.
???!
What
The
FUCK?
“thought there was love in everything and eveyone:
you’re so naïve!”*
People who deceive
it does no good to call them on their shit
they OWN it
they bathe in it
they eat it
they are composed of it
like my old lovers of the Leo tribe
calling them on their shit only pisses them off
they feel they are entitled to their deceptions
ESpeCIALLY to their self deceptions
like that italian bastard out in long island
this is certainly new
the people out in california
when called on their shit
would act like deer in the headlights
“Oh, sorry… did i say that?”
feigning total confusion
so convincingly
i believed them:
they didn’t realize they were lying
it just slipped out
like greased shit…
but these people out east
you tell him
they get pissed off
should i even call him back?
i’m tired
fuck this.
i’ll sleep well tonight…
“with a winning smile
the boy…
with naïvety succeeds!
–
at the final moment
i cried
:
i always cry at endings…”*
for those of you have never been here:
between the Sanctuary and the Pan Meadow (where the cars are parked)
is a long dirt/gravel road
cutting through the forest
is a small path connecting the two: shorter.
this is my third year down here
and before this
i’ve always taken the short road that connects with the path to Goat’s
(which is on the way to the Pan Meadow)
i just realized
yesterday
that there is an older path that never connects to the Road
just goes along under it
and connects to the Sanctuary from within…
never having to walk on the road…
i’ve walked it four times since i discovered it yesterday
i love it
up and down
winding through the trees and vines
i keep thinking of how it’s the Path
and how so many have walked it before
and i help make it a little
by kicking stones out of the way..
this is the path we walk in life…
all the green
the dappled light of sunset
the heavy feel of heat
still slight this early in the year
foretelling the humidity of summer
Summer.
i don’t know when i’ll be down here next
but i am so appreciative now of the silence
the green
the millipede crossing my path
the sarsaparilla growing in its toothy way by the path side
in the house
they were making thai-noodle this morning…
last night
something we ate during the day
made both Goat and i quite sick
bad farts
— i vomited
so today i’m fasting
(there’s been something going around)
Goat’s off eating tamales at a neighbor’s house
(goats stomachs are legendary, aren’t they?)
the sun is setting the last time i’ll see it now
heading out tomorrow shortly before noon
to catch a rental car
and head back up to the crazy city
i feel so odd
not knowing my place
or even my desires
i suppose
being in the mix
will nix all of my wondering
is that why we live in cities?
to move to fast to worry about such
trivial
things?
it’d been raining here for most of the week
they said
but Beltane
it cleared
sun shone down
and though Goat’s side of the mountain is more shaded and cool
the Knoll was WARM
i stripped off all my clothes immediately
and circled around
the ritual
the focus
the intention:
Dignity.
i always crave more integrity
to stand tall and strong
the flow of life coursing through me most
bright
fierce
conduit.
but not feeling horny
the beautiful men everywhere
just the cuddling
the hugging
the kissing
the loving
cock didn’t care
the sun played over all the skin
— i did get to take some pictures
and the day wore on
i put my pink dress on for a bit
didn’t button it
hung open
eventually
put my green suit and layers back on
some dancing around the fire
some eating chocolate chips
the boys are not dependable
they are carried away by lusts
or by sleep
after i’ve massaged them
before i get to lick all the tender furry parts
yes
wind blowing through the trees
sky opened up
stars winking down
fine
yes
barefoot
i’m happy
it’s what i wanted
and needed
got a ride back already on friday
so nothing to worry about
(well, a ride to philly… some massage clients there, some friends… back to NYC a few days later, no prob…)
happy to be home
to be going home
to be home
from home to home
i’m moving around in a cloud
just a bit of bliss to drink in
fill me up for tomorrow
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