July 12th, 2004


catching up to what i've been dreaming

i feel like i need my time.

i feel imposed on all sides
is it the sun in cancer?
or the waning moon?
why am i so anti-social right now?
more strongly than i remember myself ever being

is this fostering the anger so?

feeling frustrated by the prolific pretensions i'm perceiving around me everywhere

feeling imposed upon...

what knocked down my walls so heavily?

the desires
the lusts
tied strong
pulling the opposition
against the understanding that i don't need such violation to feel alive

there is a desperation
a curiosity
what it would be like to be with someone in love not based on such crude things
but how could i do that
with someone so crude?
so crude as myself...

i'm amazed by the flow of time
the waves of emotions

just when i felt i was following an undercurrent that lead me to seeking out ways to find the light, positive parts of my heart
just when i felt there were doors opening of giving and pleasure

slammed and broken things clattered into the room
and left me feeling sad, abused, and mistaken.

i'd been waiting for a few weeks for these things to arrive from the computer companies that i'd ordered from Jacov's credit card
that he offered me for a birthday present
a new hard drive...
when it finally arrived
i copied over my data to it
and then
it promptly died:
my data stuck on it
it locks up my computer every time i go to access it

the catholic guilt i have
makes me think i keep doing things wrong

purge purge purge
would a million days of fasting cure me of this?

i read on line that a woman had fasted for 131 days
forget the world
float down the river
fly off the mountain...

what's she say while she's singing?
"will misery turn beautiful right before our eyes?
or blind us where we stand...

will we burn in heaven
like we do down here?
will the change come while we're waiting?
everyone is waiting..."

bridget didn't really like it
thought it sounded too Country
-- i remember the days i had of such musical prejudice

it was good to see her
sad that it accompanied all my stuff falling apart
and my mood turning foul...

or was that just my drinking lots of absinth?
i've forgotten
but i think it makes my breath smell like terrible cleansing fluid
so i will drink it lightly

in california one cannot get alcohol stronger than 75%
which i find odd
with all these herbalists...
how to make all our tinctures?

still, it seems to be working well enough
i'm quite amazed by the herbal blend
and have enjoyed sharing it with friends
walking barefoot on the roads around the hermitage
seeing the lights dancing in the trees as the evening falls down around the house

the obsidian hot in my hands...

comming back to food has been fun
heavy and slow
it makes me so lazy
loving the flavours
the bitter
the sweet
the meat...
not much cheese yet.
red wine, though
back with Leo
red wine...

writing is the pressure valve
just let me tell you something
let me tell you about my fears and frustrations
let me tell you about my little loves

the good cookie from the shop
some boy who fell in love on the street
the joy of old friends
firm in our imperfections
seeing an old vehicle
knowing friends still love us
in our different ways
and different growths
feeling our desires
flying into and through our fantasies

i had a dream i remembered
yesterday morning
got caught shoplifting!
made to work in a resturant/prision camp
after the first few days they let me walk out from the barracks and mimick with the people
because i had good social skills
everyone instantly liked me
a good confidence trickster
and most of the other prisoners there were famous in some way
it was a small town like Mendocino here
or WoodStock
abandoned by anything useful
over to tourism towards good food and a new age ambiance

the woman who ran the place was like Mrs Madrigal
and knew me back to front just from the way i presented myself
she gave me lee-way
but kept her leash tight

here i am with the beautiful people
the intelligent people
the creative and dashing

slaves to those who know
how to just enjoy life.
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and on the under-belly of my thoughts

Have i mentioned this?

Back in the day
the stories i hear...

The Toilet
The Ramp
The Mine Shaft...

the fags
pandering to the MaFia in New York City
pouring out their bleeding hearts
(and, lets face it, weeping cocks)
to any receptical that would have them

Rich Italians who knew how to turn screws and keep things going
the whole world based on a balance of manipulation
and exploitation

i think of the other tales he tells me of the early days
... the reminiscence than always flow from his lips when he gets liquored up
when he talks to be in bed
when we're naked
and having just spent ourselves

these things that come from our hearts...

or come from the vaults our hearts have become...

"when i first entered the gay scene back then
it seemed that every person i met was really amazing
creative, artistic.. they all had these lives...

now they're embarrassing
some of the older guys, the guys from my generation
at these bear things
they're real people
but the young ones...
they're just fat hairy queens buying into a dead culture
working some boring office job that says nothing about their personality or lives
and from which they'll never advance because of the glass ceiling they hit from being gay..
just like the women or the chinese

what happened to all the amazing people?

it seems it's embarrassing to be gay these days..."

just what i thought when i came out at age 15
believing all fags to be like oscar wilde, morrissey and Allen Ginsberg (not to mention Whitman)
and finding the drug-addled bitchy empty queens of indianapolis...

what inspiration can we find here?
in this sea of conformity and bought-and-sold personalities?

i know i often tell this story in real time when i am explaining to someone what the "rainbow family" is
and, regrettably, they mostly terrify me...

back in the 70's
some of the hippies
(who weren't hippies, probably, but did these things from their hearts... not from the great current of fashion)
realized that Miller Lite and WXRZ and fucking Doritos or whatever
that were comming into subsidize their events
or whatever
weren't doing it out of love
but just leeching the energy...

they split off
forming gatherings where no commercialism was allowed
and they still meet these days...

let's put it this way:

we are all whores
for the most part
but there are respectable whores
and that's a whore who not only lover her John
but loves her Work.

we work
we all work
we sell our bodies
we sell our hearts
specifically in this Country
we sell our dreams

we work hard
we give up more than 70% of our lives, often
to making money
what the fuck are we doing?

we'll not get into that
but let's just work on this simple premise:
we make our sacrifices
sell our lives in trade for cash
(or credit, many of us)
and then we use that to manipulate our lives...

our money is our life

and we give it to Comcast?
we give it to the war in iraq?
to calvin klien?
we give it to mcDonald's and Disneyland?

nothing flows one-way
everything's gotta find it's balance
and in the law of homeostasis
it's gotta be equal on both sides
so you give your well-processed life over to a big corporation
make it a little bigger
and it flows back into you to fill up that empty space that once held your life
and how does that feel?

once upone a thyme you were filled with dreams and desires and passions
and now your filled with pat sit-coms and poisonous processed shit-dead food.

tell me, honey
when did this become a good buy to you?

let's get back to fags
and hippies
and heck
new-age spiritualists
mormons and opus dei
what the fuck ever
dilute it and sell it to the abuse of the impersonal who couldn't give two shits about you
these are the large leeches who get you addicted to their poisons
while draining your bodies...
good parasites
lets the hosts live long
lets them die apparently naturally from the the mal-nourished life of living off of empty ideals...

whatever happen to the bright colours of our lives?
did Tide really preserve them?
did clorox not prove to be so colour-fast?
the UV from "Friends" a bit much
soften your vision
and bleach out your reality.

the depth of our sadness and disappointment

what the hell are you doing with your energy?

i'm sitting on a hill and waiting til i feel strong enough to go back into the fray and get devoured again

what else is there to do in this world of hungry birds?
(cough cough)
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