Lazarus Kiss.59

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.

Lazarus Kiss.59

“I apologize for disturbing you.” The woman’s voice became a whisper as she collapsed into his apartment.

“My God. Are you alright?” He’d never seen anyone faint before. He shut the door. “I’ll … get you a glass of water.” He started towards the kitchen. “Or should I call for help. Security will know what to do.” He reached for his phone.

“Don’t bother asshole.”

A sharp blow to his shoulder sent Harris tumbling over his couch. One of his arms whacked his coffee table as he landed.

“What the fuck?” He looked up at the cloaked figure standing over him.

The figure lifted the hem and placed one booted foot under Harris’s chin, not quite on his throat. The woman quickly pulled off the veiled hood of the chador.

“Listen you fat fuck I’m not here to play games with you.” The face was covered by a tight black ski mask the mouth bulged out awkwardly. Only the eyes showed and they were outlined in a mottled black and green.

The voice was female.

“Becky?” Harris couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do this.

“Shut the fuck up.” The woman pulled off the rest of the chador. She wore a dark blue jumpsuit. From a pocket she pulled a length of thin rope.

“Sit up.” She took her foot off his chest.

He reached to rub where she had been grinding into his collar bone.

“Don’t bother. You aren’t pretty enough to worry.” she gabbed his hands and began to tie them behind his back. “Your pictures in the paper make you look a lot handsomer than you are.”

“Miss …”

“Oh don’t you Miss me.”

The face leaned into his. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” As she spoke the voice changed, deepened before it became distorted. “I’m all man. You got that fat ass Harris.” He looped the rope around Harris left wrist and pulled that arm behind Harris’s back.

Harris lurched forward, stood up and knocked the guy off balance. The man was not much bigger than Andy. Before he could move he felt a searing shock on his right thigh. He fell back to the couch dazed.

“Hurts doesn’t it.” The man reached under his mask and extracted the speaker of the voice distorter. “Amazing what science can do.”

The man waved a cellphone in Harris face. “Looks like a cellphone but hurts like hell.” He touched Harris lightly on the shoulder.

The jolt wasn’t as strong as the first one.

“Don’t worry this is non-lethal unless you have a pacemaker but packs enough to punch to keep you pacified. People drop like flies. I sneak up behind them. A little touch and down they go.”

“You’re the Stalker?”

“Clever man.” he grabbed Harris by the chin and give his head a sharp twist. “Now what did the bitch Detective tell you about me?”


“Lets dial this up just a bit.” he tapped a key and shocked Harris again.

This time the shock singed his tee-shirt.

“Nothing.” He rubbed his shoulder where had been shocked. “She played that recording of you. That’s all and told me to be careful.”

“Ooo to be afraid of little me. Let’s get this out of the way.” He yanked Harris’s tee shirt off, pulled the rope from under him and this time tied his hands behind his back.


“Did she tell you anything about the case. About me.”

“No. Just that the guy I … who I stopped at the park … wasn’t you.”

“True. He didn’t have one of these, did he?”

He took a battery pack out of his back pocket.

“On its own it just jolts.” He plugged the battery pack into the taser. “With a power boost it will do more. Even kill. You have been the nearest connection to me the police have.”

“Connection?” He pulled at the ropes. “You took the risk to get those pictures of me. Great way to stay out of the way of the police.”

“Pictures of you and your famous movie star friends. You a Nobody, getting noticed.”

“Right, I am a nobody. I didn’t ask to ….”

“I know. No one asks. Like those poor assholes on their way home from work, from school. So innocent and bam I get them. They’ll never forget me. Even if they never know I am.”

“Play time.” Harris called to Andy.

“This’ll be fun.” Andy replied.

“What the fuck!” the man was stunned. “Who is that?” He looked around the apartment and noticed Andy for the first time. “Get over here.”

Andy remained silent.

Harris racked his brain for what order to give next. If only Andy could walk? If only Andy could make phone calls he could get a message to Rick.

“I said get over here. You little friend seems scared or something. You want me to hurt you?”

“Yeah I’d like that?” Andy giggled.

The man walked over to Andy and smacked him.

“Is that the best you can do. I can take it a lot harder than that.”

“What the fuck.” he punched Andy in the stomach.

“You like to play rough do you.”

Those had to be the pre-programmed phrases for s and m play he’d seen listed in the manual.

“Fuck it’s a goddamn doll.” The man gave Andy a dismissive shove.

The shove unbalanced Andy and the elf topped forward knocking the man over and landing on top of him

Harris stood while tugging at the rope around his wrists.

The man struggled under Andy. Turning over but not able to get Andy off him.

“Harder Andy.” Andy’s face was at the man’s chin. His hands began to open and close to pinch the man under him.

“You like that don’t you.” Andy said.

“Time to bite.” Harris’s wrists were getting looser. “Squeeze me.”

The doll’s mouth opened and closed on the man’s chin. The man twisted his head away. His mask was pulled off. ‘Squeeze me’ brought Andy’s arms closer together. The man’s face was covered with camouflage make up.

“Let’s jack.” This command jerked Andy’s forearms up and down rapidly about an inch.

“Optimus Prime.” Harris said. Those were the words he’d programmed for Andy to get an erection.

“Fuck me.” The man struggled trying to push the doll off him. Andy’s hips began to thrust.

With a grunt the man heaved Andy off him, and rammed the doll against the wall. He held the doll with one hand and tasered it it repeated with the other till Andy’s arms stopped moving. His fingers continued to twitch.

While he was occupied Harris dashed to the door. He had it partially opened before the guy grabbed him. Harris hit at his face with his elbow. Connected with a punch to the face. The man’s head was slippery with the camouflage paint.

The guy swung him back into the room and on to his stomach, shocking him on the back each time he tried to get up. Harris could smell his flesh burning.

He grabbed Harris by the hair.

“You like to play it rough. Well, I’m no wind up doll.”

Out of breath Harris sagged to the floor.

“That’s more like it. Get up.”

He pulled Harris to his feet.

“Let’s get out a breath of fresh air.” He pushed him the balcony. “That’s a fair drop I’d say.”

Harris nodded. If he appeared dazed by the taser he might lull the guy into a careless move.

The guy kicked the lounge to the balcony wall.

“Up you go.”

Harris stood on the chaise. He glanced over the edge.

His apartment door flew open. It was Detective Alverez and Agent Devros followed by apartment security.

“Hold it right there.” The man barked. “Or he’ll go over.”

“That’s what you think.” Harris leaned against the retaining wall and the chaise slid, knocking the man over. Harris clambered over him and into the living room.

“You’ll never get me.” The man shouted.

Harris turned around and the man was balanced on the balcony railing. Harris lurched forward and caught him by the calf as the man launched himself into the air.

They fell back. Harris hit his head. He lay still while his heart slowed and he caught his breath. An officer helped him to lie on the couch.

“Where is he?” He shook his head to clear it.

“Sir, it’s all under control. Please keep still.” A medic shone a light into his eyes. “You’ll be fine. Let me help you sit up. You’ve got bad electrical burns on your back.”

The police had his attacker handcuffed nearby. He was glaring at Harris as they started to take him to the door.

“Can you get me paper to write on and pen.” Harris asked Detective Alverez.

She took a pad out of her purse, tore off a page and handed it to Harris with her pen.

Harris wrote down the words of the curse as best as he could remember them. He trusted that intent was more important than accuracy. He rubbed blood from his head wound on it when.

“Can I talk to him?” He called to the policemen with his assailant.

They brought the man closer to him.

“Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.” Harris said as he tucked the curse into the man’s pocket. As he spoke he began to tremble. Pain shot across his chest. A strong cinnamon scent made him gasp for air.

“What the fuck.” The guy looked around. “The faggot is giving me his phone number.” His face paled and he grabbed his stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“I hope the number does you good where you’re going.” Harris’s trembling increased. The pain in his chest was worse as he gasped for breath.

“He’s going into shock.” One of the medic shouted. He fit an oxygen mask over Harris face. “Relax. Take deep breaths. That’s better. Now rest on your side while we tend these burns.”

Harris nodded yes. He let himself be laid on his side. His body relaxed as he breathed in the oxygen.

The police took his assailant out. He felt safe.

“You’re a lucky man Mr. Stevens.” Detective Alverez stood where he could see her. “How did you get that signal into the building’s security system?”

“Signal?” Harris took the oxygen mask away.

“I was keeping my eye on the feed from your floor Mr. Stevens.” The building security explained. “I noticed that Muslim lady get on the elevator. She was alone. I thought that was mighty odd to begin with. They’re always in two or threes. She didn’t get off her at floor either but yours. When you asked her in I thought that’s odd but …. anyway a little while later the system burped and all the monitors were showing this fight scene. I thought maybe cable system had broken into our feed because the images was a lot clearer than ours. Anyway I recognized you and called the police.”



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Don Ellis Haiku

I had the lp of horn player Don Ellis’s Haiku- purchase used at Cheapies because of the title. On the east coast I owned his live double lp Tears of Joy – which, at that time, was too jazzy for me – so I was tentative about anything else by him but the concept of jazz Haiku appealed to me. Each piece is based on, gasp, a Haiku (which were included on the liner). Very nice.

Tears of Joy was left behind when I moved from the east coast but some tracks stuck in my head so when I got high-speed I tracked it down.  But both have been replaced with mp3 versions. I quite enjoy Tears of Joy now: adventurous with wild time signatures & a lot fun. On another mp3 collection I have his How Time Passes which features the amazing pianist Jackie Byard: this is full force fine experimental nearly free form jazz & excellent but not for beginners 🙂 

How did I even end up with Tears of Joy? That is due to Chuck Mangione’s Friends & Love – a live double lp that was hugely popular & I guess still is. Another horn player with pretty good taste doing show with an orchestra. I was never impressed by the orchestra as it was merely jazz with strings. This in an lp to cd dupe so I edited out what bored me – the bulk of which was Friends & Love Suite: m.o.r. with tedious lyrics. I love the rest in particular Stanley Watson’s solo acoustic guitar work (which for some reason is dropped from the cd release). This is jazz for beginners.


I rounded out this cd with various traditional Chinese music recordings. Yin Biao: Tradition Chinese Melodies, Tradition Ensemble; WU Zhaoji: Wumen Qin Music. A fitting counter point to the Haiku. I enjoy this music with is odd harmonies, sonics & percussions.


The ashes in the grate were cold. The room was cold. It smelled of sleep, someone sleeping there but who was not there now. That stale tired body smell. The bed was cold. The cupboards were bare.

‘There’s nothing here.’ The Officer Browne looked to his partner Sgt. Leaf.

‘Nothing.’ Leaf nodded. ‘Are you sure of your facts Mr. Axworthy?’

‘Yes. I mean there was … my mother-in-law was here only yesterday. My little girl saw her. Spoke with her.’

‘And where is this little girl now?’

‘She should be here too. Now I … we sent her out this morning with … ’ his eyes darted about the room to find the basket, ‘this. Food for Grandma Hubbard. Nothing much. Some preserves, bread.’

Officer Browne lifted the dish cloth off the basket. It was empty. Cold. ‘Nothing in it now. Seems to have been set here some time.’ He moved the basket off the bed. A clear spot in the dust remained where the basket had been ‘How long you think it takes dust to settle like that Sgt. Leaf? How long.’

‘Good question sir. Forensics will be here soon.’

‘Forensics? We have no evidence of anything. Yet.’ his large eyes turned on Jack. ‘So let’s hear this story once again.’

‘I was chopping wood. Just a couple of hours ago. Lunch time. The missus had called me in but I had this feeling in my gut, I sensed danger for my little girl. A wolf had been seen in these here parts.’



‘First we heard of one of those.’

‘So I came to Grandma Hubbard’s cottage as fast as I could but …’ he began to sob.

‘This was all you found.’

‘Thanks, right. Nothing. Empty.’

‘And this?’ Sgt. Leaf held up the axe. The blade rimmed red with a flame of fresh wet blood.

‘I … I don’t know. I got here and saw … the wolf … I swung the axe at him.’

‘Again with this wolf. Funny there isn’t any sign of a wolf here now. Not even a drop of blood, fur. Nothing. Nada. Now this little girl of yours. What was her name? A description.’

‘Little Red Riding Hood.’

‘Yeah so much for what she was wearing. We need a name. What was her name?’



March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Workshop: 4 pm at Glad Day with D’Scribe.

March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Slam: 8 pm Buddies In Bad Times Theatre Feature D’Scribe

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

April 03 – every Tuesday

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy ice cream in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr



A cishetero friend in recovery asked me how gay men could place themselves in such ‘risky’ situations. I knew he was spurred by the salacious media coverage of the murders. The media hasn’t refrained from revealing specific ‘play’ experiences some men have had with the accused. 

Several things came to mind for me. Much like the women Jian Ghomeshi abused – many people have a different notion of what rough sex means & jump into situations without parameters. To one ‘rough’ means ‘I’ll fuck you hard & bruise your nipples’ to the other it means ‘I’ll slap you around & choke you till you nearly pass out.’

This is why communication is crucial yet too often we are unwilling to be clear. Saying yes to one thing isn’t saying yes to another. Yes you can hold my wrists down with your hands, isn’t permission to then snap on handcuffs.


Men don’t set out to place themselves in risky situations but get caught in them and out of ‘politeness’ let things go too far. It can be easy to get caught in the escalating patterns of I let him do that I might as well let him do this as well. The partner can often say the same things – well you let me do that why not let me do this too – well because I don’t want you to.


These men weren’t told ‘it’ll be so hot to let me kill you’. These are the known victims  Selim Esen, 44, Andrew Kinsman, 49, Majeed Kayhan, 58, Soroush Mahmudi, 50,  Dean Lisowick, 47 – plus one unindentified. I’ll repeat their names. His will probably never be forgotten so there’s no need for me to mention it.


I was taking a leek in some bar washroom

there was this message on the wall

‘for better bj than jesus call ….’

the cynic in me was mildly amused


as I sanitized my hands

the theological implications

started to reveal themselves to me

I knew Christ did miracles

but that wasn’t one that I recalled

though I have had some amazing bj’s

that resurrected my will to live

but that JC might’ve be into that

had never crossed my mind

it did put that whole last supper

take and eat etc

into a completely different light


I saw how sacrilegious the graffiti was

the deep disrespect it showed the sacred

would these thoughts result

in my condemnation to eternal damnation

was I as bad the person who wrote this

or am I a jaded indifferent observer

with no real faith or direction

someone to whom a blow job

is more significant than salvation

should I have written down the number

or does it matter

what apparition appears in front of anyone

as long as it makes them think of faith


March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Workshop: 4 pm at Glad Day with D’Scribe.

March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Slam: 8 pm Buddies In Bad Times Theatre Feature D’Scribe

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

April 03 – every Tuesday

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy ice cream in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr


The Right Entrance


Working through the  227 Rules For Monks. Who knew the simple life could be so complex. This #4 of the 92 pācittiyas.

The Right Entrance

the girls

had their own school

a Catholic separate school

we’re talking 60’s – 70’s

Cape Breton


I don’t know if there was one

for Catholic boys

but the girls had their own

to protect them

from the unruly attentions of boys


schools I went to were mixed

but there was

boys manual training

girls domestic science

separate entrances for boys for girls

mixed classes

but boys gym

girls gym

the best way to control

those masculine urges

was segregation


guys who got laid were men

girls you got laid were easy

girls who didn’t weren’t teases

guys who didn’t

bragged about doing it

or salivated endless about pussy


because they were men

never once


was there a sense

that the guys were in the wrong

it was only the girls who need to be protected

guys weren’t taught

to think differently

in fact

we were encouraged

to get a little

get laid

get into her panties







this was masculine prerogative


a natural urge

that resented any attempt

to curb it

do you want your sons

to grow up to be fags

yeah sure

free and easy access

to pussy

is the cure for queer


yet I grew up

gay queer a fag

full of fear

while sure of who I was

& what I wanted to have sex with

I tried dating

getting a little

getting a little wasn’t enough

to cure me of anything

but I did learn

how to use the right entrance

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

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Have A Seat

Have A Seat

she struggled


into the subway seat

next to me

gave me an irritated glance


my knees were tight together

my shoulder bag on my lap

my elbows pressed to my waist

my ebook open and balanced

on top of my shoulder bag

taking up as little space as I could


‘do you mind’ she muttered

I pulled my feet closer

‘I said do you mind!’ she was angry

I chose to ignore her

I couldn’t take up less space

she elbowed me sharply

knocking the ebook askew


it wasn’t my fault

the seats were so small

that there no way I could take up less space


‘what an asshole’ she said loudly

‘keep your hands off me’


someone looked down at us

I shrugged

my hands were clearly

clutching my ebook & my shoulder bag

in place


more people got on

the now over-crowded car

the a/c wasn’t working

it was hot stinky

I had ten more stops to go

and she was muttering

‘fucking asshole men

think they can get away

with pawing women

when ever they want’


I didn’t need this aggravation

put my ebook into my shoulder bag

pulled myself out of the seat

and indicated it as empty

to a woman much bigger than me

then watched the face

of the angry woman

as she was squeezed even tighter


for some strange reason

it felt good

when the large lady said

‘move a little. do you mind’

I prefer to walk an hour to get anywhere rather than take public transit. When I do take the subway I always have my earbuds in & my Kindle to protect me. If I could I’d wear gloves too. Usually, if there’s space, I’ll stand – sometimes I sit just to get out of the way. I never quite get it when other passengers feel it’s their right to blame you for crowding them when someone is crowding you too.

This piece is a composite of various personal or witnessed experiences of mine in transit, on the subway, bus or streetcar. I’ve heard people muttering things like ‘asshole men’ or ‘fucking bitch’ because there wasn’t room for them to look at their cellphones.

I’ve sat on empty three seat rows that quickly filled within stops & have been crushed into the corner while the chrusher acted as if I wasn’t there or as if it was my fault for not ceding the entire seat to them. In winter it’s impossible to make a parka take up less space.

Most people try to maintain some decorum in transit but others are quite eager to take advantage of the captive audience to call attention to their discomfort. I have seen men take quick advantage of the proximity & felt helpless to do anything or even know what to do. Stop everyone rushing to get up stairs?

I have been told to take up less space. I have, as in this piece moved to distance myself from a muttering seat mate. Engaging is never a solution – I don’t know who has a knife. I have done exactly what happens here. Given my spot to someone else to deal with the mutterer. I didn’t feel victimized just grateful.I have more important things to worry about than sitting in transit – like,  where’s my hand sanitizer 🙂

coming soon:

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?


Lazarus Kiss.58

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.


*54* Friday

Harris was both amused and discomforted by the two dark blue chador clad women who cowered in the elevator. Their musky jasmin perfume took up more space than they did. The grille in their head pieces meant he couldn’t tell if they were looking at him or if their eyes were modestly cast down to look at the floor. When they got the main floor he stepped aside to let them scurry away ahead of him. They barely nodded to the concierge as they exited the building.

Harris still wondered who might be keeping an eye on him. Was it the pan handler. No this was the guy he’d seen on and off since he moved into the neighborhood. Was there an agent in a parked car watching him through shaded windows? That guy reading the Metro?

The day at dE.tail was typical. More seasonal promotional materials to work on. Send flowers anywhere in the world with an app tap of your cell phone. The same rose in different colors. All that changed from rose to rose were dew drops that had to catch the prescise precious glint of light.

This was another day where he worked right though lunch. A few of Jodis’s Oatex cereal bars kept him going. They tasted a lot better than the SportSpot Quknrg bars and had a nicer mouth feel. More crunch and less sticky smoothness. Even without a dark chocolate coating they unusually satisfying for a snack that was also supposedly healthy.

At first he didn’t feel compelled to stop at any of his favorite fast-food joints either. When was the last time he’d had a mango peanut buster smoothie and a pulled pork sandwich from Bazoon’s Deli. He’d skipped lunch and this would be the perfect reward. One that would save him having to cook anything when he got home.

Rather than take it home he sat at the window counter of Bazoon’s to people watched while he ate. The pulled pork was as spicy but larger than he remembered it. He got a plastic fork and picked at the meat to keep from eating all the bun. The spice made his feet sweat.

“Looks good.” A woman sat on the stool beside him. She wore a dark pink skirt and matching tailored jacket.

“Excellent.” he slurred while chewing.

“It’s hard to find good pulled pork.” She bit into her sandwich without smearing her lipstick.

Their eyes met. Harris recognized the glint. It was the curse. Could he control how far it went now that he was this aware?

She turned to face him. Her knees touching his outer thigh. He became aroused. He focused on the pulled pork. “You should try the one of the smoothies too.”

“You’re the type of smoothie I’d like to try.” she shifted slightly, her skirt hitched up a bit higher.

Did she expect he’d do her right here in the window of Bazoon’s? A good promo for the sandwiches. Meat so good you gotta have more. Get all your pork pulling needs meet at Bazoon’s. Every sandwich a happy ending. He put his hand on her leg and let in move up under her skirt. Who cares if passers-by saw them.

She put her purse over his hand to block it from view. As he pushed a finger under her panties the purse fell.

“Sorry.” he pulled his hand out. “I’ll get that for you.”

He got off his stool to pick up the purse. He wanted to put back on her lap, to continue what they had started. He handed it to her hoping that’s what she would do. She did. She spread her legs wider. Was there a way to slip that his face would end up between them. Face first jammed into her box. How would pulled pork pussy taste. Get pulled pork pussy on the menu and business would boom.

This wasn’t him. This wasn’t her.  He wanted to step away but couldn’t. His head throbbed. There was a sharp pain across his collar bone. He took a deep breath. He’d felt this pang when he’d resisted Alex. It wouldn’t kill him.

It took all his will power to sit back at the counter with a stool between them. He pulled his sandwich closer to him

“Not much seating room here is there?” He pushed  a fork full of pork into his mouth.

“No.” The woman had another bite of her sandwich.

The confused look in her face tempted Harris to explain, to apologized but he knew he had to resist. He had to resist knowingly if he was to live with the curse. His breathing became easier. The pain in his chest subsided. The lust rush was over for him. He glanced at her.

As she chewed she was staring at her sandwich. Her chewing slowed, stopped. She put the sandwich down. She looked at him.

“What the … What came over me.” She got off the stool looking around Bazoon’s. “Did you … see me eat that. Was I eating that?”

Alarmed she pointed at her sandwich.

Harris nodded yes. He felt sorry for her and at the same time wanted to laugh at her. It was only a sandwich. She might have ended up eating a lot more than that if he had himself go.

“I’ve been a vegan for the last ten years. Meat is murder. What would possess me to come in here.”

She hurried out. Harris knew she wouldn’t remember this after ten minutes. Then let her figure out how she got the taste of pulled pork in her mouth.

He wiped his mouth off and headed home.

There was a different concierge sitting behind the entrance desk.

“Rick how you keeping.”

“Very good Mr Harris. ” Rick was one of the original security staff. “We’ve all been briefed by the Agent Darvos. I never would have taken you for a man to lead such a life.”

“Us superheros have two identites.”

“I’ll do everything to keep both of them safe from harm.”

As always Harris was happy to be back in the safety of his apartment. He dropped his shoulder bag on the floor in front of the bureau.

“I’m home honey.”

“Hard day at the pixel mine Harris.” Andy said.

“You can say that again.”

“Hard day at the pixel mine Harris.”

Harris shook his head in amusement. Andy was such a literalist. But the new welcome home greeting kept him in a good mood. Resisting the curse had taken more out of him than he expected but he was encourged that he could resist it. May be he could deal with Alex more firmly too.

He undressed in his room for a change. Slipped into clean boxers and a Superman tee. The ‘s’ logo had lost most of the red but he preferred this old school logo to the newer one.

Harris’s phone rang. “Hello Agent Davros. Come right up.”

Moments later there was knock on his door and he let the policeman in. There was a woman with him. Sort of plain, wearing a nondescript pale pink skirt with matching blazer.

“Harris you shouldn’t give our officers the slip.”
“The slip? I don’t follow you.”

“Agent Carson here had you under surveillance till you went to a deli.”

“That’s the place.” Carson said. “I had taken over from agent Williams. He had pointed you, I mean Mr Stevens, out to me as he left his office, to make sure I knew who I was to keep an eye on. I followed Mr. Stevens for approximately three blocks till he went into Bazoon’s. He ordered food and sat in the window. Which made surveillance much easier. Then you were gone.”

“I ate my sandwich and came home.”

“The concierge let us know you had returned. Agent Carson did not observe you leaving Bazoon’s.”

“When I saw you weren’t where I had seen you I went to investigate. There The only other exit was through the prep area in back. The prep cook said no one had gone through there.”

“Possibly you missed me when I left. I don’t recall seeing you.” Harris said to Agent Carson.

“You weren’t supposed to see me.”

“That is for your protection.”

“Honestly, I did not try to evade surveillance. By that time I had forgotten all about it, just like you said I would. I didn’t speak to anyone till I got home. I said hello to Rick downstairs and Andy when I got in.”


“I’m home, Honey.” Harris said in Andy’s direction.

“I sure missed you.” Andy replied.

The two agents looked in amazement at Andy.

“A gift from a very grateful friend.” Harris explained. Yes, it was time get Andy dressed in something besides that ill fitting Robin tee-shirt.


Harris unpacked the wireless computer to TV kit he had bought during his lunch break. He’d always found it wise to limit the time he had in any electronics store or he’d leave with much more than he had intended to buy. There was a bin in his basement storage unit to testify to the appeal of electronic crap he used once or twice and was too bored to want play air guitar or dance along to music he couldn’t stand hear more than those one or two times.

He opened the balcony door for fresh air. He laid out each of the kit’s parts on his coffee table. Read through the quick start guide, saddened that the full manual was available on line for further questions. The set up took less than five minutes. He first tested his lap top and the picture image and sound were good.

“Play time.” He called to Andy.

“This’ll be fun.” Andy replied in Alex’s voice.

Harris clicked through the menu on his TV screen and there was the back of his head as seen by Andy.


Not that he wanted to watch the back of his head but it was cool that this worked exactly as he had expected it to. The wireless transmitter’s splitter could pick signals from both his lap top and the software that was Andy’s brain.

He tuned off the TV. He felt quite accomplished, satisfied with another productive day. His meeting with Tavi to book vacation time, electronics that worked as easily as promised. He’d spent the day without once relfecting on the curse, or on Alex either.

There was a gentle knock at his door. The peek screen revealed a chador clad woman. He knew there were a couple of Muslim families on the floor above his.

“Can I help you?” he opened the door a few inches. Had the curse hit one of them in the foyer when they passed.

#Toronto #amwriting #Wordpress #dating #lgbtq #nanowrimo #novel #Ontario

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Judy Garland

I recently watched Girl Crazy starring Judy Garland and Micky Rooney. Gershwin music & songs made for a diverting movie though the actually excuse of a script wasted time that should have been spent on songs. Judy is astonishing though. Her acting is better than needed and her singing, even at that age, was a force to be reckoned with. The story of how Hollywood treated her is well-known – needless to say Hollywood has never known what to do with such colossal talent beyond control & monetize it. Judy didn’t have what it took to resist their manipulation. 

I’ve a pair of cds that are transfers from lps: Judy Garland’s Best & 16 greatest hits. Best was a double compilation from her movies. So many classics that have been covered by countless singers but none have matched the emotional power of Garland. The longing of You Made Me Love You or Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas is palpable – songs that can still push my emotional buttons with not only nostalgia but a sadness for how she was manipulated by Hollywood. She was their cash cow not a brilliant sensitive performer.

16 Greatest Hits is a late career live performance. It was on some obscure Italian label that I came across at, maybe, Sam’s. Her voice is still strong but unsteady. A few of the Best of songs appear here – such as Over The Rainbow. There is a bit of audience patter between songs. It does include perhaps my favourite of her songs – The Man That Got Away – with an evocative sax accompaniment that underlines her emotionally commitment to the song. That’s one of the reasons I find her so compelling – she sings with an emotional commitment to to the lyric that few performers do without over-singing in that Star Search way. I believe her joy and her sadness.

That she became a gay icon is no surprise. I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I’ve enjoyed her movies, watched her TV shows on youtube but that has been enough for me. She wore her troubles on her face and her voice. Vulnerable without being melodramatic. She’s the gift that got away.

Axe Bite

Jack watched the reflection of the sun on his axe as it flashed through the air. He saw the reflection the moment before the blade sunk into the wood. The bite was solid, clean and with just enough force to do the job and no more. He was a man in control of his body, of his instrument.

He stood to wipe the sweat off his brow. He watched as Little Red walked along the path into the wood. He felt pride. His daughter. She was perfect in all ways. Sweet face. Ready smile and happy laughter.

That was why he had married. He didn’t really want a wife but he wanted a daughter. A child. Something of his own besides the cottage and the forest. They were things, she was a life.

A son would be nice too but Mabel wasn’t ready for more. Some enchantment of her mother’s he supposed. Women in these parts didn’t seem to bear more than one child in a life time.

His axe bit into another length of tree. Swing. Thwang. White chunks of the wood fall to the forest floor. The chop echoed a moment and stopped.

He strained his ears to hear the hum of her. Little Red’s song as she skipped along the path, he saw that picture clear in his mind.

His eyes focused on the axe, almost mirror like, his face a slippery smear of eyes and mouth. His mind’s eye saw Little Red stop and face the wolf before going on.

The wolf!

She wasn’t safe as long as there was a predator in the wood. His wood.

‘Jack! Jack.’ his wife called. She stood at the edge of the clearing, waving her apron. ‘You must eat now. I have a lunch spread for you. Come.’

‘Yes. I’ll be there shortly.’

His axe danced through the air to split another log.

‘No, Jack you must come now. You think I slaved all morning just to have to tell me to wait. No. Come now.’

He looked to her and sighed. Even when she meant well she gave him no peace. Never a moment to breath. One task after the other.

He stroked the sharp blade of the axe and headed into the wood along the path Little Red had taken.


March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Workshop: 4 pm at Glad Day with D’Scribe.

March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Slam: 8 pm Buddies In Bad Times Theatre Feature D’Scribe

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

April 03 – 

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) 

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Saying Their Names

He is totally nondescript – which fits the description – friendly – well-liked in the community – he could be me – except I’m not alleged, accused. Cishetero friends have asked me about this shocking serial killer – how could he have gotten away with it so long? did you know him? I’m no criminal profiler. No I didn’t know him but it’s not impossible that I met him. I do have friends who have meet him, who have had sex with him. They were stunned as the news unfolded.

I try to answer as best I can and resist saying ‘you don’t give a flying fuck about me or any of the men he allegedly killed – you want sensationalism not the sorrow’ Each new clue is headline fodder not a step toward completion – whatever the hell completion is.

There is so much speculation about how the police conducted this investigation that sounds like people have expected real police procedure to be just like CSI, or any number of other TV crime shows, most based on USA laws not the Canadian criminal code. There are conjectures about the actual evidence as well – TV makes it look like all one needs is the right electronic microscope, a good search engine & ta-da incontestable proof of guilt – provided of course that some technical rule of arrest, of evidence gathering hasn’t sullied things.

These are the victims (so far) Selim Esen, 44, Andrew Kinsman, 49, Majeed Kayhan, 58, Soroush Mahmudi, 50, and Dean Lisowick, 47. I’ll say their names. My great fear is that there’ll more to add before this investigation is over 😦 His will probably never be forgotten so there’s no need for me to mention it.

What I Did For Sex

let him think I was falling in love

brought flowers

pretended to be drunk

said I’ve never done anything like this before

walked three blocks at three a.m.

in pouring rain

flew from one coast to the other

said yes when I meant to say maybe

said maybe when I meant to say no

said no till the first kiss

didn’t shower for three days as requested

lied about my age

agreed to let him take pictures

pretended to be straight

watched a direct to dvd

Steven Seagal comedy

‘wading pool paratroopers 2’

pretended to believe he was straight

listened to music I hated – Diana Krall

wore knee-high athletic socks

apologized when it wasn’t my fault

watched hetero porn with him –

‘The Breastler’

spoke tres mauvais French

ignored the kitty litter underfoot

let him take my socks off with his teeth

put my feet in his face

took showers together

exclaimed it’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen

let the dog stay in the room

stood in smokey bars for endless hours

let him think I wasn’t falling in love


HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) 

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Sleep Over


Working through the  227 Rules For Monks. Who knew the simple life could be so complex. This prompted by #5 of the 92 pācittiyas.

Sleep Over


I am not sleeping over


I had a good time

a great time

I dig you

but to sleep over

is more of a commitment

than I’m ready for


I don’t think I could sleep

with you so near

with you in bed

beside me

it’s hard enough

to sleep with someone in the same room

let alone in the same bed


I doubt if I’ll ever sleep over

not if you expect

to get any sleep

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The Shame of Ejaculation

The Shame of Ejaculation


you should have warned me

I couldn’t control myself

it’s a mess

I have to wash off right away

we can’t cuddle in this puddle

it’s sticky cold icky

too icky

it stains

it feels so good

then gets to be disgusting so fast



to talk about the taste of his lips

is romanic elevating

but to talk about the taste of his come

is degrading

reducing sex to fluid emissions

just isn’t proper it’s déclassé not polite

not done in good society

not suitable for dinner table conversation

we can talk about the death toll in Orlando

but not about the oral pleasures in Orlando

the loss of life is elevating

the swallowing of come is common


lack intellectual substance


only men with base instincts

would enjoying that sort of smutty talk

about semen

about coming

the shame of ejaculation

the subtext for sex-a-phobia

its okay if we kiss

but not if we come

love at first sight

not love at first shot

This is the first of the 13 saṃghādisesas. It starts with an ‘oops’ – a very common one of ejaculating at perhaps the wrong time & apologizing for it. It deals practical matter around what to do with the wet spot. No one likes to sleep on. I’m one of those who likes to have a warm damp facecloth handy when making out for quick clean ups so the flow won’t be too disturbed.


I’ve know guys who dash to wash as soon as they’ve come & others who cuddle awhile then get dressed without cleaning off at all. I never question but I always clean up before the second round. When opportunity presents a shower before round 3 is recommended.

The piece then shifts to how people respond to talk about sex. I’m pretty sure some that first paragraph more graphic than they are comfortable with. Talking about sperm is smutty. perhaps okay for giggling about but to talk about like some household task. Queer in theory is fine but don’t go into the messy details. We can talk about the gay serial killer in endless detail about let’s talk about your gay romantic life.

My first title for this piece was ‘Love At First Shot’ which is an ironic play on ‘love at first sight’ and ‘shoot first ask questions later’ but I saw that i was stepping away from the issue with a playful title that wasn’t so in your face. Oops, sorry, I have a damp cloth right here 🙂

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