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call me @ 12:45 am

i like this feeling

i'm really tired
on the B train tonight
on the way home
in the middle of the chapter about Mr. Singer going to visit Antoupolous for the second time
i kept falling asleep
dropped the book on the floor of the subway

i'm really tired right now
feel like there is stuff i have you finish
and there is a feeling in my chest

i wonder how long i'll remember it
and how long i'll feel like
>> well, this is nice.. but i'd rather be there again.. <<
love is calling me
and i want to answer with my whole self
and GO. . .





so i've told some people about this dream

i was in a cathedral
it was built in the mountains
against a cliff

the grave yard was on the cliff top
masoleums and such
sheer cliff face
open ceiling
leading into the cathedral
rock sloping down
into a craggy stage where there are pedastles carved out of the rock for the big bible-like-books
somewhere i found a robe
i was cold?
it made me warm... and comfortable
we walked through the church
talking
almost out through the other side
i realized i really should return the robe
)no people there(
but i know it will be quicker
if i just fly

i lift off the ground
- easier than i remember it, i've not done this in quite a while
and fly over to the top of the cliff
to enjoy the view down
and then jump off again
and soar to the stage
re-arrange the book to a story i like
left open
and
reluctantly
remove the woolen cloak
and leave it there...

can't get away with stealing something from a church, you know...


there are holes in the day, though
i don't know why i permit this
but as they boys, they'll tell you.

he says he loves me
but i just don't understand
and what's the kind of love i have?
a little brother?
or a kid at school i used to be friends with...
or no one else is.. so i feel obligated?

i walk through the park at the top of Manhattan Island
and it's amazing in the winter
all the dead trees
against the cold metalic-looking river

the train back down into the village is a long ride
nearly an hour
i'm reading the book again...

i meet Alice when i get off the train
and she takes me to The GREY DOG (cafe)
i get to tell her all about my first time in NYC
and about dogs
and Amanda
and Eli...

she tells me stuff too
and it's our stories back and forth
until i have to go.

i got a call from a friend today
and it's silly
coz i've just EVER been this way as far as my little 25 year old heart knows
i'm so in love
and it's not real
well, i mean, it has no basis
it's a magical love
you know the kind?
where there is no reason for the love
but it bowls you over anyway
i've felt this way about this kid since i met him four years ago...
he called me and we... Made a date...
hm.
i get out of the train at Gramercy park
i love this park
and once again it blesses me with naked winter branches
god, i miss this
and the sun is setting perfectly down 41st street
perfect
the mirrored buildings light up like fire
all these buildings are vertical rivers
and i got New York.

though i am head-over-heals
there is also a familiarity
which is what might be so attractive
but is certainly what allows me to talk and walk and stuff

we go and see a play
and it's a one man show directed by a daddy bear friend of mine about a guy living with Tourette's (kinda)
which is funny
coz my daddy-bear friend in Amsterdam directed one of his students in a one-man play about living with tourette's..
but this kid was 25 or something and the climax of the play was his screaming and dumping a bucket of water on himself and thrashing around the stage to "suicide is painless"
where as here, in English, the play is subtitled "a love story"
and that is what it mainly is
not soooo much about Tourettes
more about being gay and being and actor
and Daddy.
and love.
a love story.
this guy really loved his dad and his dad really loved him.
you might say "not enough to stop drinking"
but it wouldn't even matter
"so long as there's love..."
so much love.

and i guess my dad had love
but these strangled bitter drops just don't compare to this epic....
we'll, maybe this guy on stage here is just twice my age
and has the perspective to appreciate his dad much better

the play was over and i was pretty raw
and went to dinner with these two guys
my boy
and his thunder-god friend
that was nice and everything
but i didn't want the angles of the table
and i didn't want the conversation

eventually reality shifted
the solidity took a walk
and material opened up and drifted apart
so that he and i were ambling through the clouds and reforming our desires around oursevles

there was an innocence
and the game was still playing

there was so much talking
and then we got his pipes out and started smoking

yes, i asked him to teach me
though one of my greatest joys in life is just doing things and figuring them out as they happen
i wanted him to teach me
i listened
i was attentive

felt like a kidd in the sand-box.

we smoked
and all i wanted to do was touch him.

i sat on the floor to massage his calves
but that didn't happen
we cleaned the pipes
then we stood up
and our lips introduced eachother...

taller than i
i twisted my ankles
and stood on my toes
in those steel-tip boots...

his eyes, i imagined, are like the colour of grey cloudy skies
perhaps on the day when it will snow
when the clouds are definately there and definately grey
but are still BRIGHT
it was a type of Blue eye
i wondered if you'd call it "Steele Blue" or Grey?
i wonder if you would write a novel about it and comment on the hint of Madness in there

"the man had been having to explain his beard for ... years .
these last few weeks he had been telling people about Nietzche and the countless greek heros and gods and philosophers... the mentors and composers and madmen he idealized in his teens"

his beard was shaped
but reminicent
and so strong

from what i remember as being read and brown
it was all now electricity
lightning and rain
the static discharge pop in the sky
the danger, but the illumination
i was so transfixed
and it wasn't fear
when i looked at him i smiled

the roundness of the eyes i could have kissed a million times
the shape of the lips i took as strong and almost aristocratic... elite?
beautiful?
the moustache
the crazy tuft of hair, the crown
and yet the type of roundness he had to his body
reminded me
that when i met him
four years ago
he was only slightly more stocky than i
his body was still not accustomed to being so big.

there was the kissing
but it was a mating ritual of Hello
and my mind was being bashful

i am worried
and though i feel so often that men are just using me for their hunger and have little respect
so
in my sloth and angst, i have been responding in kind and opperating on that level

with this boy
i specifically didn't want to have sex with him until i felt more grounded... loving... Safe.

so we kissed
we wrapt up in arms
we breathed
and we slept

and i woke at 3am not able to tell my body from his for far too long
but eventually got up
and had diarreah for far too long

i thought it was all the emotions
then
surely
that i was dying

then i remembered about he gefeltafish
fucking gefeltafish
i hate that stuff
didn't want to eat it
but my jewish mother fed it to me
how do you say NO to a jewish mother?
the whole thing is still quite a novelty to me
i failed
and it was poisoned
and today, 24 hours from what i am writing about, i still feel ILL (ish)

i didn't sleep well last night, this night i speak of
but i didn't care
when i turned and looked at him
i smiled
and i made myself comfortable
and slept as i could.

...


the morning
the botanical garden
the beautiful smells!

a friend
he's a psychic
he calls me on my shit
he knows i'm sick before i even get there
he can tell from my voice on the phone
or his spirit guides
he calls me on my shit and makes me feel real guilty
and though the guilt is strong
it has never been strong enough to stop me
but when i leave his house
i sing the lines
"i need my conscious to keep watch over me
to protect me from myself
so i can wear Honesty like a crown on my head
as i walk into the promised Land..."
(From "american dreaming" by Dead Can Dance )
and i know the importance
gotta cut through the bull shit

i'm glad the day presents itself

there is so much exhaustion the whole time
but people being real and loving
as loving as they can

my jewish mother only wants me to feel loved
but i cannot explain to him that he has NO integrity in my eyes
and i cannot feel loved or saved or anything from that

but my priest friend is comforting and nice to see for a short period
definately someone i am in love with

and the actor of the same name meets me a the juice bar...

i have been in Hell's Kitchen nearly every day i have been in NYC
i LOVE IT HERE.

kook me up some hell, baby.

while he and i talk in the juice bar
the beautiful leo-bear that i massaged/loved earlier in the week happens by
he is so beautiful and playful
he was my weekend lover

i have friends in this city...

i walk back across town to buy some pipe tobacco from Nat Sherman's...
it connects me to this boy who gave me the pipe i smoked out of
and it connects me to Sheridan
and another me...

it connects me to New York City
and i get on the train
head south
and Doze doze doze...

i sleep alone
on the couch

but i am filled with excitement for the future
though i cannot imagine it
and don't know if i here enough
if i AM enough
to live it
but i am here now
and that is all i have to offer
 

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