Uncategorized

if women are indeed interested in LTR monogamy
which I would apply to Bottom queers as well
the receivers
the dedicated receivers
with huge fear bases in raising/caring for the offspring or suffering through the diseases

they present to the men who want to fuck them
they need commitment before they give up their snatch
of course they want it
so they’re willing to be convinced
even by bad actors

acting and lying are similar feats
in both you have to convince yourself of your character to be believed by your audience
the trouble with lying is it is socially shamed
which means it’s usually hidden
often even from the liar
where an actor is lauded for putting on his mask
a much clearer distinction
it is easier to take it off
for a man wanting to impress his mate
he perceives her motivation and internalizes it to made his declaration believable
often losing the understanding that led to his actions in the necessary obfuscation
leads him to a life of agony
Desiring The One
while driven by his nature to pleasure and disseminate himself with the many

.iP

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

I do enjoy being the crazy guy
such an easy card to pull
entertainment for everybody
and non-stick movement through the normals

well, maybe I can achieve that when I’m under cover
agent
on to the next great feat of life
(I’m on my way)

.iP

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

this morning I woke and checked Scruff
started chatting with a handsome fellow
who was driving up the 5 from the bay

he met Leo and I for breakfast
and Leo sent me on with him
to Stewart Springs
up here in the north

that’s a picture of Mt Shasta from the town of Weed

and now we are continuing north

Surprise: Adventure still happens

.iP

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

a weird thing about the California I know
everything dies in summer
Autumn is a sort of Spring here
Winter is when everything is alive…

.iP

he arrived at the party long after the revelry had ended
the fun was done
the stars had all gone home
he wore fashions that would have better suited him a decade or two ago
sober, finally, but tired
still
he was ready to play his part
now moot, of course
only the unsatisfyable were still there
drunk beyond comprehension
or too apathetic to leave
and those with no where they intended to go
he did his best to look fresh
just as they’d expected him
but they’d all moved on
and his only role would have been contextual
his role was past
some candles were still lit
though
some scraps of the fine dinner still lay around
half eaten
on the finest plates
he washed it down with the dregs of drinks
fine wines and scotches
and the spit of people laughing and enjoying themselves
talking about everything
only a few wondered where he was
but enjoyed the show anyway
he tasted that too
all a muddle
he sat next to the dying embers in the mantle
and watched the dawn break

.iP

What am I doing with him?

all these icons an idols

his reality
I don’t understand
but it has form
mine goes on infinitely in any direction
even though I view his as King of the Knockoffs… it has form

but what was he thinking?
what can any of you be thinking?

Jesus walked amongst the Nazerites and they dismissed him a Glutton and a Drunkard
he appealed to them, saying, “You dismissed John(the Baptist) even though he came to you fasting… you criticize too much and hear nothing”

but to eat meat at every meal
and not think of each of the lives he was complicit in taking
to have the rest of his teeth pulled on his fourtieth birthday to not have to worry about them anymore
“when I finally replaced my temporary set they were mostly made of crazy glue”
I never knew

but he can’t bend his legs to clean the floor
born with shitty teeth and knees and feet?
five years of constant psoriasis!
twenty years of slow-growing cancer…

wouldn’t you try to stay young?
or did it slip away without you noticing?
too far in the distance to even think of reclaiming it by the time you noticed it
gone…

‘ i just want to be young til I die! ‘
I said
“you’d better die young, then”
he mumbled as he wandered into his room

his legs are sore tonight
‘ what part? ‘
“my knees… and ankles, and the part between my knees and ankles.. and my hips… and the part between my hips and knees…”
‘ did you do your yoga today? ‘
“oh yeah, of course. I had it on my oatmeal this morning. finished it up. bought a new gallon tub of it at the grocery outlet today”
‘ and is that shot just dead congealed milk with fruit pectin in it? ‘
“oh no. it’s all natural. it says right on the side it’s got all that crap in it. says FILLED WITH ALL THE CRAP… modified food starch and gum agar…”
‘ guar? ‘
“no, I wouldn’t buy that shit… it list all the germs it has in it. the good crap. active…”

I sat back and looked at the candles above his bed
the wooden cross
silver INRI
silver sad dead man on it
then an icon
some saint
across: a little doll in a dress: baby Jesus
in the other corner
virgin Mary
and opposite her
some other icon

‘ what am I doing with you? ‘
as I fondled his dick with my toes
unable to suck it for years now with out getting sick
terrible throat infection with a fever for days
stopped trying two years ago. swore it off.
but it was stiffening and I was tempted
I kissed it
and drew back quickly
it tastes, smells and feels like the greasy rind of some german cheese

how do you get that old?
so neglectful of your body?
your house?
your temple?
worshiping some old dead man?

Jesus tried to save everyone’s life
Daddy-God knew about wiping out entire populations
he did it all the time
maybe I’m Jewish.. I agree more with God… though I appreciate the compassion Jesus introduced… I’m not sure it’s served us well…
oh, I like my iPhone and stuff, thanks for progress, but I’m a little nervous of the weeds in our garden, the untrimmed paths and orchards unpruned

we were talking about the man I’d met at the springs last week
another Daniel

“I used to know what that name meant..”
he said
“the -el referring to something of the Lord..”
like Israel.. the name given to Jacob after wrestling with the angel all night… who was just a stand in for God. yeah… the -el is specifically about God
Israel is One Who Struggles With God.
Ah. That explains a lot.
I wrestle with angels all the time…
what about the other Angels?
oh yes
Michael: Who is the one like God?
Gabriel: The Power… or Strength of God
Raphael: The Healing of God
yeah… what about Uriel?
oh, he was a bit part. not even mentioned in the new testament and barely in the old… no one knows anything about him… the idea of ArchAngels is pretty new anyhow, just to create synergy with the four Evangelists…
and the four horsemen and the four elements and the..,
yeah

so I looked it up
Daniel
ORIGIN: proper name, Hebrew, lit. “God is my judge;” related to Dan, lit. “he who judges,” the tribe descended from Jacob’s son of that name in O.T.

my dictionary doesn’t have Uriel though
I kissed him good might and went to wash my face off

how can I Judge him?
little Lion
lives how he damn well wants to
how can I judge you?

I can’t.
I can brush my teeth and try to keep them healthy
use a mouthwash a russian lady taught mr to make… mixed with something I bought
I can do yoga
take deep breaths
fast periodically
get enough sleep
or not
eat organic
or not
reduce, reuse, recycle

I can learn how to love and be loved
not die alone

I can…

I can read to him from Edmund White’s books
we can talk about the past
and the things we’d like to remember
for other people to remember
and avoid the shadows of death and sufferings
with another sip of wine

i don’t know what I’m doing here
I don’t know anything

there: by the grace of god
or gods
or will
or whim
I am

.iP

I was in an amalgam of NYC/Europe/hermitage, CA

I’d been working with a sexy daddy bear
played by Maurice
doing healing work on him
there was all this talk about what an amazing healer I was

working with Jackie
but the folks at Blue Lotus were more like a gigantic cult
a new-age movement
there were many
all the workers and all the clients
all sick injured people
we were having a gathering upstate
I didn’t think I’d be able to go
or didn’t want to
I was busy with healing Maurice or something
but on the day before it started I decided to go

I took the train upstate
beautiful old ruins in a roman aquifer
old hot springs, baths

it was a party
hundreds of people
lots of colorful food
most of it packaged crap
tons of it
it was sunny
technicolor
Jackie was kinda the leader
we were all exhausted from eating
and bathing
in the minerally bubbly water
in the multi-coloured sun
laying around in a puppy pile
(all sorts of references to billy gatherings and heartwood as well)

so we’re laying around
and every one is talking about some big ritual that’s going to happen
and there are big announcements
and it becomes clear we’re going to restage the crucifixion of Jesus
they’re even talking of the men who are going to play the thieves
and one they have to pull down to make space for
me
of course
I’m going to play Jesus
I’m listening with lack of comprehension
I have to carry the cross up the hill
with some strange contraption
they’re talking about the nails they will use and how and who will hammer them in
and the tomb they will bury me in
and I lose it
I jump up and start screaming
pig will not
“No! I! Will! NOT!”
knocking shot over
running around yelling
my long white robes flailing
“Jesus knew for days before hand! he got to appeal to his father in the garden! what’s a crucifixion without The Last Supper!? Where are my Apostles!?! This is Insane! I will not die for you! It won’t heal you and I won’t be back in three days time! I might want release from this life and the feeling if doing something good but this shoddy reproduction would be a waste!”
and on
they sit around patiently waiting for me to come around
they have hungry looks on their faces
hoping the release of my life force will heal off of them
they look desperate
more sad than angry
whispered words of disappointment
” all our planning for nought… he won’t play our messiah tonight… we must continue to suffer and die because he isn’t willing to sacrifice himself for us…”
I walk by the tables of candied fruit.. little debbie’s and candy corn
fuck this shit
(but with a terrifying twinge of guilt)
I didn’t sign up for this shit
I’d decided to come up at the last moment as a lark
how could they’d think I would die for them?
where do
I catch the train back into the city?

I did
somehow
then I was with Leo
driving through the countryside
ramshackle elegance
going to a shop of the finest local handmade food
carved intricate boxes
selling for hundreds of dollars each
one contained a single bouillon cube
I blew on it and a cloud of smoke like dry ice peeled off it
the other, same size box, was being sold as a fontina cheese
but the box was very complex and unfolded into an entire rustic kitchen set
corkscrew and pepper mill, long knives, cabinets

we sat down to eat
an odd shaped corner
window looking out over the farm fields
all rustic barn wood
I was self conscious
with the waiter and sales person there
I kept accidentally referring to Leo as “Dad”
blushing about it
and wondering why I was doing it
and very unnerved about something…

.iP

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

a man once told me
"when taking the orient express
do not be tempted by First Class
it’s just as crowded
and the wooden benches in Standard are a bit uncomfortable
but nothing compared to the lice and bedbugs you’ll get from the comfy cloth seats in First Class."

that’s one of the differences between east and west coast
comfy and diseased
instead of rough and crowded

ewwww.
Where’s my A train!?!
" I wanna go home! "
(sing the beach boys song in your head)

.iP

We used to often sleep outside
(where did I leave my memories?)
(how long was I ever here? Did I sleep here with him? How often did we sleep outside, really?)
Some nights it was cold
We’d nuzzle together under a thick down comforter
(sedated by a heavy meal and bottles of red wine no doubt)
Our bodies entwined
To be warm

We would lay in the dark
(before he joined the cult of IKEA.. After we’d always have those lanterns hanging, swinging in the night breezes, fat with votives…
Aw, Leo always loved his night-lights… But IKEA seemed to enable his candle expendatures ten-fold)
He would usually fall into sleep before I
(those were the days before iPhones so I wouldn’t be playing with electronics then like I am now…)
Laying outside in the dark

Sometimes we’d talk
Drift into silence
A bright falling star would return us to conversation…
Like brothers unable to rest from understanding of knowing a listening ear was always present

Or
Yes
He’d sleep
I’d listen to his snoring
And the tree frogs
And the crickets
Whatever birds
Wind in the trees, far-off or close… Like some gigantic ocean swelling and crashing
Sometimes the tractors working the vineyards in the valley below
Or the trucks rumbling along Hwy 29…
And his snoring
Then…

We were out on the deck
The big one
Out front…
Or is that Back?
The down side. The tall side.
High up in the air
Safe from mountain lions
And safe from creatures…

Now I’m alone here
On my little deck
“my”
That he built years ago because he liked the view from here
Seen standing on a ladder
Years ago
Told in a story
From the endless stories
I am wringing out of him day by day
(I’ve been with him these ten years… His general decline has always been apparent… Just aging… Taken for granted… Nothing acute… Only that I know he’s dying. Dying… “dying”. So I’ve been told. I always knew. Feared. But not it fills me with a respect. Fear. To be humble. Help my elder. Listen with soft ears. Respond with silence and acuiescence. How come it wasn’t always like this? Why have I hated my loves so much? Him. Why?)

I’m on this deck by myself
Fearing creatures
Fearing the cold without him
Piled on too many blankets
Wore down my iPhone already
Using the old 3G backup. That black one you borrowed. The broken one I fixed. Now I’m talking to it. Through it. To you. You.
I never quite understood poetry that wasn’t written for the writer
Really To the writer..
Why read other’s coded thoughts and emotions?
Sing Your Life!
Or written words on paper
Can you write?
(What is that sound over there?)
Poetry is useless
But for one’s self
But for the universal self that resonates in the heart of everyone
I thought something different earlier
But I mean this now
Talking to myself in the dark
Silent
But for the ocean in the trees
My finger flying over the screen
One
And the crickets
And that tree frog
Hadn’t found his mate yet

I only saw one falling star before I started to type
and my legs are too hot now
But might it get colder later?
Leo isn’t lying next to me
He was so tired
All Souls Day
He’s said mass over the ashes of his friends for years
Today he put them all to rest I the sepulcher I dug for him
And put a shovel of dirt over each emptied bag of ashes
Four.
Five?
Their mementos
Their name tags
Their processing papers
Plastic boxes
“temporary containers”
Holding some of them 20 years
Two candles
Under the fiberglass dead Christ

He’s sleeping now
Hard to coax into adventure
Or enjoying the simple things of life : God’s Good Earth
How I love… All of the very simple things of life, oh…
But he’s so tired now
And I’m preparing to sleep outside in the dark
On my own
On the side deck
The little one
My western view blocked by the roof
So beautiful
These stars
Endlessly talking to eachother
Pulses through the infinite space
Like my words to you
Reaching out across
A blink of God’s magesty into the seeing eye of God

(I read in a book today… Once all Christians believed there was life in everything… Like I love of the pagans and aboriginals… All these things I hate… Death culture… It has nothing to do with Christianity… Not really, no… It’s just Dominant Culture. Idiotic worker ants who fancey themselves FREE… Aimlessly perpetuating wasteful cluttering with no ample queen to guide them.. Disorganized ignorant hives with no heart devouring all the nectar of life… The Royalty have abdicated and are living off the scraps of their prolific dumb servants.)

I am very alone.
I always have been.
A million light years from my nearest neighbor
Feeling them in my heart
But waiting so long for a wink
Starving for a companion to share my joys with. Give my pleasures to. Recieve their loving echoes… And listen to their own true songs of their heart. Starving. Longing. Waiting for it. Working for it. Imagining it under the infinite sky.
Silently singing about it
Accompanied by the ocean of wind and strings and trumpets of crickets and frogs.
The voice of coyotes now.
Someone must think this is funny
Oh, it must be
I must be sleeping already
Musing with the stars
The alcohol evaporating from my nostrils
Dreaming of waking up into my life

ten years ago
a girl
lent me her car
(was it Dee? or some blond girl I’ve forgotten… Meredith?)
not a car
an suv, green
I drove down with excitement
expecting ritual and companionship
the Billy gathering for Halloween
on a Sunday
I’d worked all my hours tight
and rushed down the mountain
arrived at Saratoga Springs
to everyone leaving
Sunday
they had to work tomorrow
I…
walked around a few minutes
put out
wondering what next…

Leo arrived
I think we said we’d meet there
so there we were
most everyone else gone
we walked to the hot tub together and soaked
I was all over him
and remember asking him his sun sign
“oh, you mean astrology? I’d rather not say. whenever I say what I am people say ‘oh no!’ it’s the worst one”
I tried to convince him I didn’t think like that.. worst one… what: scorpio? Pieces? Aries? no no no
he told me Gemini
I said “fuck you! I’m a gemini! we’re not the worst one! who says that!?”
he took me back to his house and I did his chart the next day:
he was a 29° Taurus anyway… Cancer rising (great chest) and Gemini Rising… well, yes…
but before then
that night
I followed him home
through winding mountain road
terrible steep dirt “trail”
he said he’d make dinner and suggested I build a fire
which I did
in the beautiful broad fireplace
got it strong, bright and warm
stared at it a while
but next to an entire wall of books
I had to see
so went to read the spines

entire shelves of Bibles
books about Jesus
other religious studies
and one shelf of David Sedaris, Shirley McClaine and Armistead Maupin
he popped his head out of the kitchen and remarked on how good the fire looked
I said
‘ Should I be addressing you as “Father”? ‘
“Only if You’re into that” he replied with a smile in his voice

he did vespers and mass for all saints
I did a ritual for Birch
scratching it’s Ogham into the ground between two large pines
pouring birch beer onto the ground, then into my mouth
invoking all of the spirits on the other side to help mr start a new chapter in my life

and indeed
in they they have
… oh, what I know now …

this Year Samhain is on the 7th, so I’ll do my ritual then
Salvia in the dark…
what requests..?

but Ten Years
similar days
entirely different ways
but He I am grateful for
however it’s been
it’s been always there
in and with me
entirely different than life without that love

so… Thank you

.iP

what’s the reason to stay alive
when you sleep alone
when your naked body is not side long against another’s daily?

when you see the same views every day
no matter how spectacular
mundane
or exotic
if you’re not staring at that vista with a friend
or telling him
again today
your feelings of the clouds in the sunset

it’s really not worth the struggle
to say your rituals alone
tell your stories into the silent air
all your beauty falling into
representations of meanings
with out a living being
an audience
an acolyte
a companion

i would do the same
I would do the same
I will do the same
if I’m not careful
turn attention to what I know
over there
by the campfire
not here
just here
God alone in the Desert

it’s our dance
one of the many songs
but yes
the one we come out for
you and I
you & you & you and i

.iP