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Vertical Prose


November 6th, 2008

meetings on trains, and @ 01:55 am

Yesterday i sent my friend Leo off on a bus to the Newark Airport
-- he was flying to Munich

as is often the case with a house guest
i felt more drained than nourished by him
more used than appreciated

though both/all traits were there.

in my time alone the night before
-- as i had got a throat infection, so i was resting
i, of course, turned to all the things i wanted to accomplish
and
instead
devoted my energy to meeting people on the internet
through silverdaddies.com and craigslist

that last thing i need to do is cultivate more meetings
yet it is the most common habit for me

i posted an ad... or three
and got a few responses from each
one of them was you, Michael
who lived near my friends i teach yoga with in brooklyn

one of them was a response to an ad (one of the many) i responded to
... someone offering to give a massage
simply because he wanted to

after leaving Leo in the bus at Port Authority
i walked down 8th avenue
and called the acupuncture clinic i work at
to see if Fred was there so i could get a session from him
-- no
i left a message there and at his house
and decided to go into a DVD store
-- my throat was sore, so i couldn't really interract in those dark booths
but i thought being around that energy might... be good for me somehow

there is only so much sexual stimulation one can have alone with a
computer that is good for one
but if one is so driven...
perhaps it is better to have that ravenous compulsive desire among
others that share it?

there were no booths in this store
so i wandered around looking at the DVD covers
and the men flipping through the stock

not really connecting with any of them

finding most of the DVDs freakish
being WOWed by the content
the whole scenario...

i walked out rather quickly
shrugging, having experienced whatever it was.

there was a door that led directly down the subway tunnel to the gates
to the train
i was heading down town.

i switched from the C to the F at W 4th
intending to get off at 2nd Ave

i stood by the exit door
and among the full seats
was a little man with a ruined nose
perhaps from too much drinking
a bit hunched over
shaved head
white mustache

he kept looking at me
i made eye contact
nodded
he kept looking
i felt it
so i put my hand in my pocket
and fiddled with my camera
making it obvious that i was rubbing my shaft with the edge of the sony

his eyes got slightly larger (tiny anyway)
and his hand immediately grabbed his crotch

i smiled
and walked over to him

his first words were
"i'd like to feel your stache around the base of my cock"
i said "that's cool, where do you live?"
he said
"Park Slope"
and i thought about that...
do i want to go to park slope? or get a massage...
he said something else
i noticed his teeth were all fucked up
crooked
and many missing

oh, i knew this guy...

"you're name is Mike, isn't it? we've met before"
i told him

we could hardly hear eachother, trying to be somewhat hushed with all
the people around (women on all sides)
so he stood up and we walked over to the door, limping on his lame
foot, with a feeble hand clutching at his possessions
he said he remembered me a bit but i looked different
yes, that was years ago
(and i never want to repeat it, thanks)

so i explained my sore throat
and how i would be a useless cocksucker right now anyway
and how i really felt drained and would like to take this opportunity
to be nourished

by that point
i had missed my stop
got off at E Broadway
and waited for the next train back up town

walking to the middle of the platform
i passed a hot looking guy
looked a bit like a thug
over-sized jacket, ball cap, wide stance, pencil-shaved goatee
i wondered if that was the Michael who responded to my ad... could he be?
we made eye contact as i passed
i stopped and turned around and looked

a few seconds passed
i stood
he turned and glanced
so i walked back

he asked me if i'd voted
i told him i hadn't

he explained he hadn't either...
he just didn't know who he wanted to vote for

i explained that i'd never voted
it's never seemed like my arena
i don't trust politicians at all
however, on a superficial level, i would love America to have a Black President
"but, are you Michael? who i talked with yesterday on line?"
No... my name's Bruno, and you?
"i'm Dominic"
both very strong names: Bruno. Dominic.

the F train came and we got on it

"yeah, i know you from the internet. i'm sure. we talked last year...
or two years ago. we were going to exchange massages or something"
yeah? that's funny, that's what i do: massages
"yeah, me too: that's why we were going to trade... wasn't your handle
something like "9x6" or something?"
yeah..
"i have to get off at the next stop, what's your email address, i'll
send you my contact info from my phone"

i got off the train at 2nd Ave and walked up 2nd Ave to 3rd street,
calling the massage guy... leaving a message
walking up to 6th, east to 1st, down to the Indian grocery store
to buy a stick of Neem: i knew it would be good for my throat
some Fentiman's ginger beer, some cocoa beans; some black-seed soap

massage guy called back, Edgar
he told me his address
so i walked there

very interesting
a small apartment filled with books, but in a condensed/organized/orderly way

i got naked, he remained clothed
he massaged me for an hour and a half, perhaps

we talked.
he teaches Feldenkrist
which keeps coming up
he said
"if you're teaching yoga you should focus more on teaching breathing
and how people move with their breathing"
of course... it seemed so correct

he showed me some books i should read
what was the name of that incredibly important poet he told me to look into?

i jotted some of the indian book titles down

he'd been born in Jerusalem
had many books in Hebrew
looked more indian... or arabic
had a pakistani holy man in picture on his wall
and a strange painting of a forest that could have had a unicorn,
angel or monster at its center

he cut up two apples and we ate them

i thanked him profusely and said i would give him a massage sometime

i sent a txt message to jorge asking him if he'd eaten yet
and an email telling him he had to demand respect, give it and earn it.
as do we all

i walked back to 6th street
and stopped at the Taj, because they had live music
the man playing the Sitar had on a green turban, long white (what's
that garb called?)
big eyes, long dark beard with grey at the tip
beautiful beautiful beautiful

i sat and listened to them
had a marsala tea
mushroom saag
and a paratha

i felt blessed

Jim called me and told me he wanted private yoga classes with me
as Larry had a few days before

i guess i'm becoming a yoga teacher

jorge called
and i told him to meet me at 2nd and Houston
i walked down and talked with Jim til Jorge walked up
then we talked a while and walked down to 1st ave
telling stories

i told him about the meetings on the subway
a rather drunk jamaican man/boy asked for some money for food
i only had three ones left and gave them to him
we talked about obama, hoping he would win and not get killed
and how this country could use some riots
he told us to get our guns ready

i told him to make sure he bought some food with that money

kissed jorge goodnight
and got on the train to come home

i didn't sleep as early as i could
a slave to my nafs
but today, after a massage
i got out of the house more on time than usual
heading to teach yoga in brooklyn
david called to tell me jorge and michael would be late
i said i was on my way anyway
and would like a sauna

the train was slow
but on the platform at Jay street, waiting for the F
i ran into Larry, a round man who is quite gentle
though comes across on line as quite piggy

we talked a while about
the weather? the government?
the gay republican i'd talked with the day before who was afraid Obama
was going to tax the fuck out of him?


i seem to be having luck with running into people on the train

even the people i've been meeting on line seem a bit more deeply interesting

Yacov wrote me today, and i responded
just sending blessings and trying to stay out of his way

on the walk to D&M's
i stopped at the book store to see if i could find any of those yoga books,
No
but i bought a book that seemed to jump out at me called
"Dreams of Being Eaten Alive": a different way of understanding the Kaballah

ah.

Jorge arrived shortly after i did at D&M, around 7pm
Michael didn't arrive til 10pm, i think
he said the stock market didn't seem particularly happy that Obama had won

in those three hours
we smoked
sweat in the sauna
i gave them, and myself, some of my massage oil
and we massaged ourselves
they left
i did some yoga in the heat
came down
chatted
massaged and brushed David's hair
shared my Neem stick with them
did some fun chi-gung/reiki/energy manipulation with David, Jorge..
everyone i love
everyone.

and just random yoga on the floor

it was very good: i think i'm finally learning mountain pose, wow.

dinner was amazing
hearty beef stew
i am so grateful

just got home and had to write.

already 1:15.
 
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Comments

 
From:uneasytruce
Date:November 6th, 2008 01:48 pm (UTC)
(Link)
Late in adolescence, I saw a news/educational film reel meant for young boys to see: The announcer showed moving pictures of harmless-looking 30-something-year-old guys. "Paul has a sickness," the narrator intoned ominously. The film reel went on to describe homosexuality, that sick, sick perversion that ruins lives and destroys families.

The phrase that sticks with me to this day, read by the straight announcer: "Homosexuals crave danger. They must have illegal excitement at any cost." As an adult now, I think about that. Do I crave danger? Does seeking out company, attention, comfort comprise the same thing as living a life filled with danger?

I would probably correct that long-dead announcer now. My answer would be: Some homosexuals have the nerve to want to live fully. They demand proof that they are alive. And I think that is you, in this plane. I wonder how many people would have the guts to live as honestly and exposed as you do?

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