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oh, I need to write
my thoughts right now!
:la lala la la

I want to watch tv
not drop into the torrent of my consciousness
Yeah!

two memories
what?
1942?3?
bombing The Hague

the nazis came
his dad was hiding in the basement
his elder sister played piano for the soldiers
while one balanced him on his knee
he was 2 or 3

later
when they were bombing the city
his mother and sisters and he were running through the burning streets to reach
a place of safety

two memories:
first
a parot flew by
he’d never seen one before
it was a trendy middle class acquisition at the time
so exotic
somehow free’d from a destroyed building

second:
a leg
in a boot
no body in sight
just standing there
blood

his father had a horse drawn carriage
and went back and forth to the house collecting all the things they’d want to keep
through the burning streets

everything else got destroyed around there…
but their house was fine
over the remaining years of the war
they sheltered many Jews
(his them in the basement, the walls)
because Jesus wanted them to
but they didn’t learn their names
or answer their thank you cards years later

Life

another:

one of his best friend’s as a kid (in queens, in the eighties… early nineties)
lost a finger in a…
you can’t see it in this photo
he was my best friend…
but he was kind of abusive
he’s probably really hot now.
we used to suck eachother off a lot
but at some point he just acted like an asshole for no reason and they stopped being friends

all sorts of functional blind spots.

today in Greenpoint
The Poles!
they are So Tacky!
all the letters: how does that sound?
I can’t pronounce it…
how brazen… good for you!
income tax!
and a bunch of garbled words
and stuffed animals in the windows
-I think of the puff-paint sweatshirts in brataslava; rhinestones…
sparkle motion

and that depressing neighborhood yesterday in the bronx
where I thought…
one thing
and another thing
and
I didn’t want to

it all hurts
these memories
and these judgements

I want integrity and love
memories are intrinsic
oh, but the tragedies…
are they really necessary?
because they happened, they are!
and these judgements?
what about the abuse I imagine happens inside the vinyl sided house with Two iron fences; American Flag

the "depression" I imagine
"poverty"
"tackiness"

the chocolate and candies were horrible

I want to love everything!
but is that loving?

someone, he said, has to do the sorting
("and who gave you authority?!")

"he’s sweet"
everyone says

‘yeah, cloying. yeah, to give you cavities. oy! diabetes!’

being pleasant and nice is not useful
being liked
is not an important goal

action through integrity
has itself to answer for
no doubts or fear

accept what you are

when I was helping him today
holding her hair

I have to grow out my hair again

of course!
yes!
just a year of short hair
again

just this time

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images in my mind, recently

my Mother’s head
covered in blood
as was the broken window next to her
in the brown van
1988

waking up from
counting backwards
under anesthetic
feeling like I was hit by a truck
looking around
wondering how I got from there
to wherever I was
1985

"waking up" from those times I’ve blacked out from having my blood drawn
that other-worldly feeling
so close at hand
finger-tips grazing

typing on a manual
a letter weakly pressed leaving a space:
fi ger

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this has been going on for months
I have no idea who I am

perhaps for years
but this current face…

some alternate self
i feel theatrical and sinister
some silly warlock taken too seriously
dangerous and dark

steady my hand
i know not what I am capable of

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the sun’s at home
the moon’s at work
when we wake
we will take
more time to relax in the heat
our hands only busy in the cooler evenings and late mornings
building what dreams we can muster

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these days of
pushing through the overload

minor things
little things
that’s life

but each to his own ability
til death do we part

I want
a counterpoint
so it would all make sense

but my chest hurts
I may even try to smoke a cigarette before I sleep
though I know it won’t complete me
maybe it will calm this disturbance
or at least burn it up

yes, all you fire-bearers I have loved
I will light up in memory of yous

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the men in my family are fat and furry
when I was young
I hated men
they were so mean
confident!
arrogant
"I wanted to grow up and go with them"
but I couldn’t
tge more I grew
the further I grew from them
but when I met the Faggots
nor did I want to be a simpering self-loathing demi-princess lost in the lowlands…
what chance redemption?
I skirted along surfaces
through countries, states and chat rooms
until I found the "bears"
I remember being in Tucson, AZ
going to the "Varsity" (maybe?) on 4th Ave and seeing all these horrible insecure lonely queens posing and preying on each other
I was pretty boy and was terrified of any attention received from any of them
yet I was trying to Be Gay
shortly after I found "the Venture-N"
where they played music more from the glory days of gay lib
than that dark electro beats following its demise
the men all dressed like the men I grew up around
not so fabulous, less ostentatious anything
most importantly
they were talking and laughing
standing in groups
arms around each other
rubbing each others’ chests and round bellies
big smiles through beards
I was 19
but that night I accepted all drinks and gropes and ended up having to return the next morning to reclaim my wallet I had lost in the back garden one of the times my pants were off

really?
a group of gay men who didn’t hate themselves and the world around them?
they just want to eat burgers, drink bear, bounce to ABBA and rub all over each other?
I want to join them!
I want to grow up and be with them!

and it’s good to want them
and I grew my beard out
and grew my hair out again
and went to the gatherings
and wasn’t a bear
just wasn’t a part of that
over and over it was made clear
but it was my only option
so I tagged along as close I could
til I got lost in the woods with the Radical Faeries
I rarely ever wanted to have sex with them
but I was accepted as I was
and encouraged flaunt myself instead of adhere to some mock-blue-collar fashion
simple being dropped for any combination of complexity

though now
I haven’t even been with them in a while
it seems I’ve taken a hiatus from all of my ad-hoc communities

looking through the little window of my iPhone
in my sobered state
it’s clear to me that I was never a member of this band of merry hedonists
never content to just eat and drink and share in camaraderie
as I pretend they are
as I wished to be

my sober adult gaze settles on them
as if from an institutional cell
wishing to join the fray

the pleasure I’ve sought has never been true to me
never fed me as I’d hoped to be nourished by it
how could I have both?
I desired to be a Wizard… a Poet, an Artist
occupations necessarily distinct from the common man
in pursuing my desires I have wondered further from those happy fields
yet I have friends that live their easily
and friends that visit my secret realms
so I must be content with that
and mourn no longer for this sensual life of pleasures that has only ever been reluctantly open to me
sober and intent: I must get to work

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sorry if I’m a green gimp or whatever
I joined Greenpeace a few days ago
and just bought wooden headphones that come in green packaging:
multilayered corrugated cardboard cut outs!

they sound LUSH as well!

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focus is good
fear is fine
knowledge of desire is a blessing
exact desire

I once drew a diagram
mapping the flow of life force
and how desire affects the aura and movement through time

i’m pretty sure it’s on my first website: I’ll find it and realist it here…

but
though this year has been very heavy/intense emotionally
I believe the shift into my emotional self has had a desired affect of mostly quieting my mind

in many of the actions I have committed recently
I’ve been more present and clear with what I like and certainly don’t any more
or now
clearly now
a way to be
to edit my present actions
move more surely
perhaps a completion of my wrestling with Saturn
now being free to walk as a man
and knowing myself

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"he knows
he knows
he knows I’d love
to see him happy
or as close as possible
as close as is allowed…"

I ate breakfast in The PrimeBurger
ya know, sausage/egg/cheese sandwich, mug of tetley tea
walls all wood veneer
everything looking like it did in my childhood
when we’d, say, visit family in Detroit
stuff old already when I was young
but taken care of
– paper lace doilies under the condiments
row of stools
mirrors
framed picture of the skyline
with big letters underneath:
"N E W Y O R K"

the guys who work here are old and heavy
not Old in an Old way
but not a bunch of 24 year old hipsters fresh from elsewhere
New York Guys
This Is Their Life

the music is from before my childhood as well
"Little Surfer… little surfer girl"
I’m hear with my parents
sitting alone at the bar
drinking tea
little boxes of cereal on offer
beautiful pictures of pancakes and syrup
from the heartland
even little signs advertising sweet potato fries is colored like the 70s…

this is their life
their every day life
they have to get the gas fixed in the building
keep the counters clean
talk on the phone about payroll

bubbles of life
how has this been maintained from the… 50s? 60s?
old New York…
one of them at least

but this is their life
and though I’m enjoying the anachronism of just being here
my heart instantly turns melancholic
I can squeeze sadness from a sugarcube

I love these people
god knows
I could not live like them
I’m not such a good actor
nor have the genuine heart for it
all my life
living has been a mystery to me
I’m always surprised and confounded
I function by writing it out as if I understand it
to try it on

so I imagine I love these men
I imagine they know what they’re doing
they’ve accepted their lot in life
they do their duties
have their buddies
their wives
their homes…

I borrow them
I walk through
I taste them

but ah
I’m grateful to have the opportunity
but I have no idea how long any of this can go on

it doesn’t seem to make sense
to me
but of course
it’s gone on this long
it will probably outlast me

I hope I don’t do anything to increase the entropy…
my mere observation…
ah!

in other news
I find I have three sets of keys this morning
and remember the wane of my wandering days
when I would find keys in my bag
not knowing to what door where in the world it would go

I feel like I’m back there, all of a sudden
hands in my pocket
heart stretched
loving
holding my tongue

I wish
I wish I was
I wish I wish I wish I was
happy and content
grateful is a good consolation, though, right?
I’m glad to be grateful
and maybe things will make more sense some day

I hope I can help

oh, in other news
I compared Jorge’s face to a picture I took when I first met him
and he’s so changed
I’m pretty sure another actor slipped in while he was under that beard and hair
he’s the same person
but entirely different
the force of life-changing
innocent by-stander
ha!

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there has been lots of death
talk of death lately
I feel like I’m being tested

to be plain: I would never actively kill myself
and do my best not to passively do so other
I am living
even if I have no idea why and what-for
even How

a good friend of mine, a deamon, once gave a man he knew cyanide and that man ended his life with it
the action haunts his living
on occasion

all of his family is dead now

yes
some people I would say "death is the best thing for them"
but probably not "death is the best thing for you"

it is tricky to judge the worth of another’s life
apparently I cannot even judge my own
so what can I know?

but many
most
I don’t know why they are alive
in algebra, in algebra
sentences that do not rhyme
I see no sense no sense no sense

this boy in front of me is ostensibly pretty
he probably belongs to my community of cubby acquaintances
is he a lawyer? photographer? graphic designer?
I distain his very being
for that tattoo, nipple ring, haircut, glasses and wearing those clothes non-ironically
but
he’s probably much more in sync with the world than I am
and he’s enjoying it
he’s sexy and enjoys showing it off
he wants people like him and enjoys feeling people want him
— he wouldn’t talk about it
but do it, be it

there is nothing wrong about it
perhaps I am just a jealous reject
when did I prefer to do my pushups and keep my arms covered?
I cannot help but put myself in a lower rung because I do not understand the nature of humanity
but if I do it is detestable
thus I musn’t for I desire the world to be beautiful
my pronouncements turn it ugly

this discrepancy I want to heal

but obvious beauty is not succulent to me
perhaps I am just perverted

all of this to say
in this death-crown my mind is wearing
seeking distraction
I looked through my iBooks
and picked James Joyce’s "Portrait of The Artist as a Young Man"

I am surprised I’ve never even tried to read it before

it’s fucking crazy
but brilliant
in the opaque, yet open style it’s written
he’s handing it easily forward
yet it’s sliding quickly through time/space/life
so the mind can rip through the text quickly
knowing it is not intended to understand
but to dream the book

is there anything in there but the experience?
I’ll look and see

more schizophrenic
but less paranoid than "The Crying of Lot 49" which I just finished
phew!

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ah
oh!
another click of obvious essence

downloading an album or movie
taking it
just coz you want to
and you can
there are people who have made it very easy
people who took it
or bought it
either way: sharing

but just taking and not replenishing a source is parasitic
even giving back a little makes a big difference
the sheer number of consumers is in similar ratio to acidophilus in the guts
of the corporate bodies of creative entities

so
I’m still taking more than I give back
but I’ve made a shift into giving more to that system
as I am practicing to join its ranks

and my style has mostly just been Being
but I am training myself more to work in consort and commerce
aiding
through the great chain of the human organism
to devour the earth and sky
out little finger taking it apart
rock by rock
atom by atom

this alien creature we are inhabited by
uses the animals of this earth to inhabit
in some cultures this is more understood
these bodies called "Avatars"- vehicles

like we pilot our cars & combines
even our computers
to reflect back to our more alien nature

evolution is a willed creative design from another realm
not even the physical universe
which our alien mind came to this dimension to enjoy

of course
any talk of any other realm than this is often frowned upon in serious discussion
yet yearned for in yarns and myths

I’m beginning to understand the art of acting incorporates detailed knowledge of the physics of this realm as well as our other (well, I am certainly not saying this un presumption of only one other realm)
to be able to move the body dexterously
project the voice
as well as the emotions
the mind
the feeling of the physical movement
out into the space around you
inundating all other beings, even the walls, with what imaginary moment in time you are skillfully manifesting here
to share
to share

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