love as a sexual fetish
i was interrupted in the middle of writing the piece on German Farmers
a man called who wants to meet me
apparently i have an excellent phone voice
lately i’ve had people who want to meet me
massage clients or play partners
calling again and again
just to hear my voice
my visitor earlier this week said he would get hard and swoon every time he heard me on the phone… especially when i was talking to my mother
so this guy calls me again
just talk
i was in the middle of writing
and feeling very explanitory
i feel into explaining
yet again
my experience with Europe
and i got into such great detail!!
:
‘
gay culture will cease to exist when it is no longer necessary
like all sub-cultures
they form sharp and strong
like the head of an arrow
to pierce the armour
but then
why are they still needed?
they are only clung to by those who are fragmented
and can not move on to being whole people
Those in europe…
most queers aren’t queer
they’re normal people
just doing whatever it is that people do
… most often taking care of aesthetics and culture
as faggots have always done
but no longer making much of an issue about it…
but those in the saunas and bars
they will be there every night
well… part of them.
that broken part of them will make love to your boot
your stinky feet
your shitty ass
your thick cheesy cock
your leather-clad legs, chest, shoulders
they will make love to your nipples
and though so near
always miss your heart
as accurate as a surgeon
Fetish
experienced compartmentalized to get the fix
without letting the stream of life wash the whole
on the phone
i said to him
‘ i guess my fetish is love… intimacy… ‘
i fake it
it’s not really fake
but in the moment
it’s so real
i pretend the deepest love
that’s what gets me off
praying for their immortal souls
worshiping their finite bodies with eternity
desperately giving all i have to them
receiving all they are
with the deepest of love and emotion
knowing
with safety
tomorrow i won’t hear from them for months
and the yearning is just another part of the prize
i had dreams with him one night
we were visiting a town as tourists
old lovers
rollercoaster ride
old mining carts
upon entering the shaft
the head room was a tight fit
we had to duck in order to not have our heads cut off
no
it was steele girders
a bridge?
a tunnel?
we came out from underground, yes
and Leo was next to me
we were staring at a cute kid up in the car ahead of us
Leo said
“look at that beautiful boy”
i could see: beautiful
we got out of the cars when the ride stopped
and i chased after the kid to find out who it was
She turned around and looked at me
and i was in rage
and started floating off the ground
the crowd of tourists
startled
looked up
i yelled down at the them
‘ WHEN WILL YOU GET OVER YOUR GENDERS! ‘
and flew off
oh, one more thing to say
did i say this before?
[…checking…]
kinda
i’ll go into it a bit more.
When i was Europe in 2002
the sex was pretty amazing
like a more ideal version of what i experienced in the bath house in portland in 1999
so so so easy to have sex
right?
where is the love?
A guy i had met in the bars and had long conversations with
but no sex
he was a Witch by the name of Joe
always in full biker leathers
long hair, trimmed beard
great mind and pretty good heart
when i came back to amsterdam after travelling round europe for most of the year
he introduced me to his friends at his going away party (moving back to Germany)
as
“the light in the darkness of gay culture”
which i thought was sweet
flattering
i blushed
and felt bad at having givin up loving
(don’t worry folks, he always come back for more)
i only fell in love Twice in Europe
and both times were with German Farmers.
One was Bavarian
he’d sent me emails for a few years, i think, before i ever met him
and all the pictures he’d shown me were Black and White
when he walked up to me on the street in Cologne during Carnival and said
“everyone’s in costume… but i bet you dress like this all the time”
i didn’t recognize him
coz he had the brightest red of perfect mustache
bright eyes
i was kinda speechless
and then he introduced himself
it was months later before i lay down in bed with him
and our sex… our love making
was just rolling around on top of eachother
kissing
Frottage, as it’s called
but so into eachother
oh, some sucking cock
but mostly just mouth
so deep
hearts pounding together
the most precious thing
besides his beautiful body
was his smell
his flavour…
He grew up on a farm
and ran away shortly after his mother died at the age of 15
when he left the farm
he was shocked by the world…
He had never Bough Food nor Clothing
and he found the Clothing and the Food both Terrible
food had no flavour
clothes had no life
everything dead.
he got involved in some company
put on suits
moved up the ranks
made lots of money
and got sick of it during his saturn return
and basically has worked as little as possible since
but living in cities:
it’s too hard to be a farmer and be gay
and he doesn’t want to give up loving men…
so he works out
coz only when he’s using his body
is he happy
Yes
and he uses his body
and he buys organic
and his body smells clean
musky
masculine
manly
what can you say?
the pure heat and health of a man
so hot
i melted
my heart broke with him Daily
“oh, dominic, i can’t do this.. i don’t want to lose my boyfriend…”
he was a Taurus, like Leo, and their boy friends both had the same name
every day he’d break it off
and every night we’d be in love
it was love
it was such love
my body loved his body
the fit
the heat
the taste…
like the swiss-german farmer i met outside of Berne
He came in to meet me at a sauna
he spoke nearly no english
and i spoke even closer to no swiss-german
but upon seeing eachother
grins spread across our faces
and lit up the room
we gravitated and crashed together with glee
and spent a few hours in and out of eachother
ravenously, playfully, seriously, lovingly
the feelings were total
my dreams soared with going to live and work on his farm
a few days later
using language translators and a java chat program
he explained that he had a wife
and i could not go visit him on his farm
the only reason he had a city life at all
was that he was a part-time elevator repair man…
this guy who came last night
he was of Prussian decent
grew up in south Dakota
his father was a farmer
his whole family, back in deutschland
were farmers
‘do you work out’
-he laughs
his body so taught and strong
again
the taste and smell
his balls smelled like musk
not cheese or crotch rot or piss
his skin tasted devine
the sweat
the sweet pheramones lightning down my tongue
i grabbed his huge shoulders in my hands and massaged him
i places my arms around his sturdy frame a thousand different ways
we lay together and breathed
rising and falling with eachother
we synched
we fit together so well
he stuttered out his appreciation
his body speaking more fluently to me
“it’s so nice to find someone who likes to do this”
a few different positions in the night
i thought, before and after sleep, of the conversations where i was glad to have his as a friend
and would invite him up here time after time
and look forward to seeing him every week
but in the morning
he was out like a shot
with only half-hearted explinations
“cell phone’s dead… gotta feed the dogs.. laundry..”
“i haven’t slept that good in a long time…”
he turned
and looked at me
“you look so cute wraped up like that…”
smile on his face made of earth
turned
grabbed his bag
and walked out the door
shutting it snug behind him
broken
searing
grateful
to do it again
another time.
OK
enjoy with Andy Kaufman
i just watched his two short films
“I’m from Hollywood” and
“My Breakfast with Blassie”
about halfway through the “Hollywood” flick
i thought the guy really WAS a genius
to manipulate people’s emotions so bluntly
to go into reality, not Television
and make himself an object of hate
to force it upon him self
in the least subtle of ways!
but they all fell for it
make himself be hated
TV wasn’t good enough
he needed 10,000 screaming people in TN hating him
and the staging his own brutal beating
saying
“will you buy into this?
you like hating, don’t you?
you LIKE seeing people get hurt”
they said YES
but it’s all a show, right?
where is the line?
by pressing so hard for so long
(i guess only a few years, but another 15 minutes later and I was tired of it)
he made sure it was all just a show
he got his wish
he was just as much a professional wrestling star as the rest
bought into the scripts
helped make the scripts
all the silly beatings and shenanegan’s
“Yes, THAT’S Entertainment… That’s ENTERTAINMENT!!!”
but for a minute there
i thought he was asking people if they really wanted to go through with it
and when the answer is yes
“Hate me”
those of us addicted to beatings
self-destruction
wow
i still can’t figure out why it’s so attractive
though i do know
from time to time
i do it
i slide into it and through it
let it course around me
and lick up the blood
… as it were
We want to feel alive
HA!
what a luxury
to be alive
and not feel it
would you buy that for a dollar?
how about 47 years of your life?
Seattle is a go.
i was thinking about it
saying to myself
>> i don’t really need to do that, do i?<<
and got two fortune cookies saying the exact same thing
about how i have a good business venture coming up
Yes
live in seattle for a while
travel?
Michael?
closer to the city
closer to my own
Alone – ness
Leo and i had a custumarily frustrating Mercury Retrograde conversation
which was the first time i saw his Taurian possessiveness
though he did not cop to that…
i did my best to listen
respond
and keep quiet.
eventually we ended up in bed together
alone
one night.
i read to him for a bit
some old story from a '95 RFD about guys in a bath house…
the first facet of "Engine Summer" by John Crowley
warm
we started talking
… i was just going to let it slide…
but he brought it up.
We talked about it for a while
it was good to talk about it
though hard
the type of love we have…
the way he feels
what i feel
i didn't feel like i was making a mistake then
it was very clear
… the clarity of conversation
but now, alone and thinking, the doubts creep in
only because they are supposed to
second guessing is a way of affirming
when it's talked about
it also becomes more real
(unless you're talking about the future, that is)
so i've been walking around today
tidying up the house
moving things outside in the lush wetness
wondering how many books i should take up there…
how many clothes?
should i get a ride with someone from the bay area?
fill the car with some boxes and my bag
plan to be there for at least three months?
a quarter year
is that enough to feel it out?
or should i just go with my back pack
and see how it feels when i arrive
play it out
and come back down to fetch stuff
if that's neccessary
got a few weeks
moon waning
mercury retrograde
asking us about our travels and experiences
stay home
and rest
a few massage clients coming up
resting
and wondering
staring at the fire
and tying things up.
2nd Jewish man who’s x-wife is named Barbara
well, not really, one wife is x… the other is Dead.
different
very different
too reductionist
Visitors
Last night i watched “Man on the Moon”
continuing my “Jimmy-Carrey, but not that way” Marathon
it brought up a lot of Stuff.
Andy Kaufman thought it was really funny… and not only that, but Necessary
to fuck up the world
bring it down around his ears
he did it through performance art and… Comedy
until all of the hate/aggrivation/negative energy that he generated
came back and gave him cancer and killed him
Once upon a time
i was very angry at the world for… (etc..)
at the age of 19
all of the yoga and drugs i was doing
imagination
friends
i was getting really high
and crazy
i was summoning lots of power
personal power
understanding what i means to get to “Christ Consciousness” or “Universal Consciousness”
i worked myself there every day
of course
not connected to my heart directly or anything
and the higher i got
the faster everything i imagined and feared came to manifest
to the point where i had long-since lost control
and was fearful for the world and myself
coz some immature part of myself wanted to destroy the entirety of existance
and the other face of me didn’t understand that, completely
but was giving free artistic liscence
on a smaller scale
it hit me the same way
that which i put out
(mmmm, destroying the world)
was being given back to me
the entities i talked to while i was on LSD out in the desert told me pretty clearly…
“honey, we understand why you want to do this.. but that’s not what being here is about…
you have to work with the game, sweetie
if you just try and destroy everything
we’re not going to play along
coz WE don’t want to destroy ourselves
so you’re just going to be left out in the cold and atrophy on your own”
i would SIGH
i just wanted REST
i wanted REST on the GOD level
if everything dissolved into Chaos
the entire memory of the history of our world would be scattered
and it would be an unmesurable eternity until something brought it back together again
AHHHHH, SLEEP!
ok
i DID listen
and i learned
and that’s just NOT ok
it’s better to grab the great beam of life in yr hands (shooting through your heart, see?)
and perhaps bend it ever so slightly…
it helps..
but love, honey, not too much chaos…
Anyway
this all comes flooding back to me watching this Andy Kaufman story
and i have this Visitor here
he’s Taurus too
and he Jewish
and he’s a Rabbi of reconstructive Jewanity (wow, where’s my mind?)
blessings as blessings be
we go to light a fire
and i ask him to take a journey with me
he aggrees
and i tell him everything
asking him to watch me closely
to point out where the flaws are
(i used to do this all the time with my teen age friends… but we have foresaken eachother… so i’ve been missing this game — consistant readers of this journal will have noticed the post about this a few weeks ago)
he listens
and he finds the big snag
(which resonates which other things i’ve been writing about… yesterday, even)
: i don’t believe in love anymore.
Well
not the kind of love i need.
that is
i have always wanted a lover that will do the work with me
the existential/emotional/magical/sexual/physical/philosphical work
the listening, the talking, the journeying, the re-creation
but i’ve not seen relationships where that happens
and have never had a lover who really wanted to do that
(sure, i’ve found some that would SAY they would… but they didn’t… and i’ve had some that would try… but backed out or freaked out… )
i need someone as strong as me.. and stronger (sometimes)
i guess i just broke my heart too many times on this ideal hope
and seared my self against it
but it is neccessary for my survival to believe in such Impossible things
anyone who knows me has heard me say my goals consist of such things as
learning to fly while i’m awake
(in dreams i just lift off…)
and walking ley lines… being a wizard, etc…
where are the teachers?
i won’der if my crowlyite friends know?
no.
among these impossibilities
i must keep my heart whole and pure
and my standards high
know, i love anyone and everyone, really
especially if we can connect
but will never give my heart over as a Husband or Partner or whatever
unless we can take eachother’s hands and lift off the ground and sail to the moon
… ney, Soar through the stars.
”
now tell me
wouldn’t it be nice
that if one day in paradise
i’d sing for all the ladies up there
and they would sing along with me
and we so happy then would be
coz Down Below is really nowhere
my name would then be Jupiter
and i would know where i was going
become all-knowing
my beard so very long and Flowing
if i could play Deaf-Dumb and Blind
because i pittied all man-kind
and broke my heart to make things right
i know that every single night
when my angelic work was through
the angels and the devils too
would sing my childhood song to me
about the time they called me Jacky
if i could be
for only an hour
if i could be for an hour every day
if i could be
for just one little hour
Cute
in a stupid-ass way…
”
— Marc Almond singing “Jacky” by Jacques Brel
”
i want so badly to Believe
that there is Truth
and Love is real
and i want Life in every Word
to the extent that it’s Absurd
”
— Ben Gibbard in “Clarke Gable” by the Postal Service
he moved his hands over my body
stopping over my heart
“you’ve got a cold spot there”
the massage set out to be an hour and a half
but when i’d given him one two weeks before
i worked for three hours…
so… so did he.
when i walked to his house that morning
the sky was clear and bright
leaving his house nearly four hours later
the sky had turned heavy
not really dark
but so thick
grey
with lots of silver
it just felt odd..
i walked into the castro
and made a phone call
there’s this guy i’ve been meaning to see
and as it happens
he lived pretty close to where my newest obsession is…
i remember talking about him on the couch:
‘ oh fuck, he’s not a Leo is he? what’s his birthday ‘
“i don’t know… oh, no… i do: sometime in February..”
‘ PHEW ‘
but he’s got it anyway
(as only dreams can)
to make me want to be so real for him
to make me want to dig him up and sling him into the air
and fly around with him
playing in the tree tops
exploding in the night sky
We got to the Dickens Fair about an hour and a half before it closed
the massage had left my body feeling so powerful and vulnerable and weak
— Paul had lifted my shoulderblades off of my body and hung them from the ceiling
“you’ve got the most flexible shoulders of anyone i’ve ever worked on… it’s amazing… you’r shoulder is coming right off your body”
‘that’s coz they’re not blades… they’re wings’
he put them on a spit and turned them
something underneath keeping it warm
my body heaved with a little shriek
and i started coughing profusely
The Dickens Fair smelled like heaven
like every child’s ideal memory of the beauty and joy of Christmas (forget about the rest)
i felt like i was in England
i felt like i was in Germany, in Cologne, before the BearenNacht, with Yacov
walking around the town square
eating dense cakes and drinking mulled wine
‘ where’s the mulled wine? ‘
i asked to myself and the giant 6’8″ man standing next to me
he didn’t know
but he saw the hot buttered rum
and we went
… that and a hot toddy…
what is this place?
i feel like i should be on stage
i want to cry
where’s robert?
where’s my costume?
i want to dance at Fezziwig’s
where’s my lover?
i wandered through the brilliant smells
bad accents
beautiful facial hair
and men with long manes
damn, couldn’t i live..
Tim (the giant) followed behind me
as i flew through
lost in the memories and feelings
wishing i were dressed properly to be in the moment
how would i get there?
i’m outside of all this in my ’70s leather jacket and leather shirt and courderoys and red-wing steel-toed leather boots
heavy boots
keeping me on the ground
eat step pulls me back down
belly big
rolling through the crowd
where’s my lover?
Someone who looked like Robert
but with two big braids
went walking by
i turned quickly to follow
stopped and said so to Tim
‘ he looked like an old lover of mine ‘
” i’m sure he wasn’t… if he were, he would have stopped… Don’t you think?”
‘ i’m not so sure… ‘
i followed him til i heard him speak
and it wasn’t…
where’s my lover?
what’s this feeling?
i certainly haven’t been getting fucked much
but i’ve been spending lots of time with my body and emotions lately
‘ when my heart opens wide Life becomes more vivid.. i can taste everything… the colours all have meanings… and when i come down.. my heart hurts… a physical pain in my chest ‘
” i understand the rest, but not the part about hurt… ”
said the newest interesting spiritual jewish man i was meeting
while i drove him through the windy dark mountian roads
to the hermitage
i lost Tim somewhere in the saw dust and crowds
i walked into a Haberdashery
a whole display of glass fountain pens
what?
amazing
this one?
oh…
one made in Mexico
big and clunky
the other in Italy, Merano
some island near Venice where all the glass is made
“these are Aventurine glass”
‘ i only know that as a stone.. ‘
“the gold at the tip there, that’s the Aventurine.. the crush it up into the glass”
‘ yes… ‘ and imagine how wonderful it would be to write with that?
only $20! so many places would like me to drop my money here
here
here
here i am happy to
stories
and eruptions of anger
i paid and walked out from the bickering friends in period clothing
where’s my lover?
maybe it’s getting back to where it used to be
am i a virgin again?
it’s about making love
and when he said he was going to keep fucking me til i popped out a baby…
Dad?
where’s my lover?
i came here to find…
Robert walked by
: it’s not him
he’s just in all the costumes and bad accents
and scents…
look at the way his hips role
past the band
the second band
the greek resturant
the japanese puzzleboxes
— we can’t figure out how to get out
back in the main square
apple-cinamon spice
a cast of characters had assembled to perform
and there he was
back behind the rest
up against the wall
head freshly shaven
stache and beard highlighted darkly by the three piece suit
memories of my lover at the age of 17
art teacher in england
always these suits
stout little man
the belly
his eyes catch mine and he nods
i can’t speak
he doesn’t act like he wants to speak
he’s in character to prepare for his play
i’m too bashful
but it’s important he’s seen me
here
to see him
apart from the other people i watch him acting
playing are roles
i turn to Tim
‘ he likes playing the bad guy… always fun to be Evil… ‘
i don’t believe in evil
i’m trying to understand love
as he screams at a pennyless old beggar who’s laughing at him
and runs past me with stress and anger
affected, of course
it’s a play
or anything as real
i saw him
and like my lover
just seeing him from a far made me proud that i loved him
made me proud that i had touched him
that i had put a smile on his face
that i had been here, and he had seen me, and he knew i would do this for him
i’ve done nothing
glass pen
we left the sawdust and facial hair and mulled wine behind us
obsession
a gift from the heart
” it’s cold ”
closed when not around its flame
the game of love
dominance
subserviance
no
giving
worship
it was so much easier with those cats
to please
to please
“you know, he’s married, Steve’s his Husband”
i cringe, i hate words like that
i never believe in not being able to love someone
just because someone else does
i had five windows open on my computer searching for him when i came to write this
and it doesn’t even matter if i don’t see him again
this love
this obsession
this is for me
even when i’ve shared it with my lover
it certainly didn’t bring us together
though i don’t know what else to do
but be a boy with him
sometimes a man
sometimes a woman
but these prizes i should keep to myself
i scare my objects of desire into Nihlism, don’t i, babe?
the most import part of my existance i cannot share
i experience it alone
in my own vivid reality
waiting for the walls to come down
so someone else can play these games with me
i’m always happy to talk
so long as i have a good conversation partner…
i suppose that’s true of any interraction i have…
i don’t want it to be like twister
someone calling out confusing motions we are meant to attempt
dispite and cross eachother
i like it when it’s contact-improv
when we’re acrobats
high-wire
or on the backs of lions
performing for the crowd
which may just be us
anyway
i learn a lot from this
to me
it is Living
being that i translate most of living through my brain anyway
(and that which i don’t translate through my brain very rarely gets OUT of me… unless someone subtle enough hears my rolls and waves of feelings)
since i woke up many years ago
i’ve noticed that conversations are what teach me most
doing massage is what teaches me massage
having sex is what teached me love making
talking about existential stuff
teaches me more about living
placates my worries
gives me new avenues to explore…
gemini: only valid when in relationship
conversation partner: to feed and nourish.
i came down to SF again on wednesday
and met up with someone i’d talked with on the internet for many months
so
OK
now was our time to meet
he’s a young guy, 32
we stayed in the Westin St. Francis
(from one hermitage to another, eh?)
and mostly had conversation
we had a great conversation flow..
ah… Virgo…
the main medicine i got were these
(and this came from me Saying these things… though i don’t often take personal credit for these revelations… they channel through me and if i’m not too busy talking to listen and understand my own voice… i learn a lot)
:
everyone has a few lives in their life.
we work really hard to be or do something for whatever reason
we build the foundations
and ride the tracks
but most people, that i’ve seen at least, come to a metamorphoses point
where they fly
or swim
or walk
or stumble…
but it’s not necessarily a pre-meditated life change that causes this
just a “mmmm, i really need to change”
and the doors opening up out into the world.
i’ve been freaking out…
how have i been describing it?
‘ i’m under the fall Pressure ‘
(it happens every autumn)
not exactly depression
but that unhappiness i was talking about?
just coming from all sides
>> is your life really how you want it to be right now?<<
' NO! '
it feels very immediate and kinda painful
but this conversation medicine quelled it a bit
reminded me that i'm process of changing
and i've been a success
and i'll do this a while longer, i feel
but i'm in process
the orders are out
the angels and deamons have been called
the new scenes are being painted
and we're all excited to hear the new score.
alright
the second thing was
"languages of affection"
this i'll jog around a moment:
last night i did a porn shoot
my first
and probably my last
it was very hard for me to get into it
i was camera shy, i guess
or it was just really hard for me to be turned on in the setting
as sex to me is usually about connecting
and making people feel wonderful..
while i was giving this guy a massage on Wednesday
i kept wanting to grab the sides of this torso and just heave myself into him like a wave
crash against the bed
my beard rubbing up his furry body
the immediacy
slamming bodies together
wanting to break like the surf
flow through eachother
i felt like that a lot last night
but only after i found a key
for hours i TRIED
and TRING to be turned on is TIRING
it'd taken Sarsparilla, Oatstraw and Damiana to raise testosterone levels and make me more horney
but they just made me euphoric and speedy
i was moving fast
and enjoying the weight of my boots
i was rolling through the room
big belly rolling through the clouds
eventually
the star of the film showed up
he was the only guy who had facial hair that turned me on
not a full beard
but a long strange goatee spikey thing
with two forks
and amazing eyebrows
and blah blah blah
he flipped my switches
but he was really into leather s/m
which leaves me not only feeling like i don't know the script
but that perhaps i'm in the wrong show
however
desire leads us many strange places…
i found myself wanting him
so it happened
an i probably gave a good performance
(thinking back now…)
i figured it would be a good time to try all the yoga/sex acts i enjoy:
getting fucked while standing on my shoulders
bending over backwards to suck dick
we developed a pretty good connection
it will be interesting to see
but
back to the medicine:
this and the conversation on wednesday remind me of something that i have been working on learning about for two years (in fact, made it clear… in fact, gave me more of an undrestanding to work from)
:
There are many different languages of Affection.
last year's New Year's party at Heartwood gave me the bud
i ranted around in a heart circle about learning to love Hate
because there is nothing in the world but Love
therefore
Hate
is just a twisted way of loving
but let us not forget! IT IS LOVE
Chip grabbing my hair and shoving me against his chest saying
"motherfucker, suck it motherfucker"
is love
the beat of the flogger, tied up in hood and hand restraints
love love love
my father antagonizing my mother at every turn
is his way of just wanting to be close to her
Love
i so often take this things as malicious
destructive
painful
and sometimes they are
but so is life..
maybe nothing's malicious
that's just me afraid of… Change? connection… real connection causes… facilitates! propigates change…
destruction is necessary, yeah!
pain is part of life, yEAH!
that's alright
that's alright
so long as you Also hold me tight
and give me comfort…
i really like the language of affection where we're beaming love and healing at eachother
then radiate it to the world
as i left the bear party
i was walking by a BMW dealer
and laughed that even BMW makes SUVs now
what the fuck is it with the SUVs?
everyone’s gotta have one
the weathly luxury car
SUV
even fucking Limos…
SUV limo parked at the gas station
what’s the deal?
walking home from the bear party
i figured it’s the same drive that leads me to big, strong, bukly men
Comfort.
(and protection)
i used to be obsessed with a song…
[i’m always saying that]
called “A Reminder” by Radiohead
the lyrics:
”
if i get old
i will not give in
but if i do
remind me of this
remind me that
once i was free
once i was cool
once i was me
knock me out
smash out my brains
if i take a stance
and start to talk
shit
if i get old
remind me of this
the way that we kissed
and i really meant it
and what happens
if we’re still speaking?
hang up the phone
and play me this song.
”
i’m glad i haven’t forgotten this song
i don’t want to forget this tormented feeling
i don’t ever want to forget this
i know i often say i do
elaborate rituals to remove it
but thankyou thank you thank you thank you
i want this thorn in my side forever
(laughs)
forever til i die
i know
i know
nothing isn’t a good creation
but we need a GOOD rest when this is all over
and nothing is the most perfect rest.
what is this life
but preparation for the next?
no: be here now. NOW NOW NOW
and call all yr power
and make it the most amazing spectacle
the most amazing experience in the universe
damn: i need to go to india
“The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”
it drove me into a panic
i wrote and wrote and wrote
though will not post what i wrote
there are a few of you i wanted to reach out to
i feel i reached some clarity
i wrote this other crazy post after wards…
i feel there was some clarity
some foolishness
this is back-dated into place
Hello
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