Bad Bad Spirit Pie in Your Hair

Next on the shelf is a mp3 cd collection of radio fodder male singer/songwriters of the 70’s, with one exception. Here is Don McLean’s American Pie, Don McLean, Homeless Brother. Pie & Vincent are era defining songs that are used in countless movies for instant period ambiance – in fact all it takes is the ‘buy buy’ oops, I mean ‘bye bye’ & you know where your are in time. I loved that song. Vincent less so – too gentle & greeting card for me. McLean never matched this early success but continued to record. The self-named album sees him as a pop version of Noel Coward with fun songs two of which are worth tracking down: Narcisissma, On The Amazon. He’s sort of the US answer to Gordon Lightfoot 🙂 

I loved Jim Croce. On this cd I have You Don’t Mess Around With Jim, I Got A Name, Life & Times. As a stand alone Photographs & Memories; Greatest Hits. His writing & music was emotionally accessible, unpretentious & catchy. He wrote about ordinary men & women with lived-in affection. Looking for the track listings for his lps I want to name check every song as they are each classics. The emotional directness of some of the songs can make me almost tearful. His unexpected death in 1973 at 30 ended an amazing career.

Also inescapable was Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit In The Sky. The album is sweet folksy, slightly psychedelic & fun with of course his big hit. Canned Ham his second ‘hit’ was good. He recorded a few more stepped lps then back – the music industry wasn’t for him.  The same is true for Scott McKenzie: The Voice Of … smash hit with If You’re Going – that road the crest of flower power sweetness – the album is a tad bit darker but those flowers lost their petals, as it were. Thanks to Papa John Phillips he (& Barry McGuire) fill blanks in the Mamas & Papas catalogue nicely. In fact Scott became a member of that group for awhile.

Lastly in this compilation is Elmore James: The Final Sessions. I wanted something to balance out the flower power weight of the other performers & this set. James is a true blues slide guitar magician. Only one album by him was released during his lifetime. This set collects his final two sessions from February 1963 in New York City, and he would be dead within three months of a heart attack at the age of 45. Timeless music.

The Kick Outside

On the subway the little girl kicked me in the ankle. She was about six but at that size and age who can really tell except a parent. I’m no parent. She was one of the prime reasons I wasn’t interested in being a parent.

I said, “Stop.”

She laughed and kicked me again.

I looked for a parent. Across the aisle was a woman beaming at her cute little girl, smiling at me to indulge the little sweet thing.

The little sweet thing had on patent leather shoes. Black shiny hard. As she was about to kick me again I gently pushed her back.

“Stop that.” I said.

The mother glared me.

‘“How dare you touch my child. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Tell your child to keep her feet to herself.”

“You perverted slime ball.” The mother stood. “Touching my child. Don’t think you’re going to get away with that.”

Grinning, the child kicked me harder. People looked at us. The little girl began to cry.

‘“Look what you’ve done! Hold him there while I get the police.”

Two large men appeared and held me by the shoulders.

“The child was kicking me and I pushed her away.” I explained as they pulled me off at the next stop.

“She musta had a reason to kick you, you asshole. Your type makes me sick.” One of the men grunted.

They held me there for about ten minutes until the subway police showed up to see what the fuss was. The woman and child where gone. The guys holding me admitted they saw nothing.

When I got home there was a bruise on my ankle.

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Croce Crosby

Jim Croce dominated the charts for a time. At first he struck me as an American Gordon Lightfoot with his folk-rock sound. I have on an MP3 collection filed under Don McLean, his three lps: Don’t Mess Around With Jim; Got A Name; Life & Times. And as a stand-alone the hits collection: Photographs & Memories.12bluewhitedoor03I did have a Don’t Mess as an lp at one time. Listening to him today I see his influence in rockers like Springsteen, Mellencamp. He wrote direct Americana songs about ordinary people in love with ordinary people. A tinge of melancholy & sweet heartbreak in some of them that was relatable to me despite his heteronormative world view. 12ivydoor02I can remember dancing to Bad Bad LeRoy Brown; New York’s Not My Home captured a sense of loneliness & the hunger for more than home that always appealed to me. Lover’s Cross – take that Leonard Cohen 🙂 Plus he had a great porn stache & his jeans did his package justice. 12doors01Next to him on the shelf is Dave Crosby’s If I Could Only Remember My Name – this was an lp I played constantly. The wordless harmonies are out of this world, Cowboy Movie is a great story song. It falls after CSNY make their big splash when everyone was making solo lps. His was perhaps the most compelling as it didn’t fall into trying to be a pop success. The songs aren’t radio fodder, aren’t Neil Young type rockers either.12whitedoor04Crosby’s life was a druggie mess which might account for the lack of focus on the lp itself. It was decades before he did an okay follow up. Prison time clean him up. Rumours of his bisexuality were not confirmed in his first autobiography 😦 but he did father Melissa Etheridge’s child, so maybe. Yet another 60’s star sporting a great porn stache & who, as one time, looked fine in snug jeans.



Singa sat in front of the monitor. Brin stood behind him.

‘I’m not too close, am I?’

‘No such thing.’

Singa put his palm over the cursor guide and the hard drive started.

‘Now let’s just see what we can tap into this time.’

They had searched the various records that were in the both sub frames of the compsystem of the Monastery. Nothing was ever found that pre-dated their arrival.

Once they had had found some ancient blue prints of the the Br’n Pavilion that showed that the Sanctuary ruins were merely the tip of a vast structure that was no longer there.

Singa tapped at his key pad. ‘Okay we’re in once again. Right where we left off before.’

The screen filled with a series of icons. The ones they had examined were edged in green and there were none un-edged.

‘Let’s try …’ Brin closed his eyes and touched the screen. ‘This one.’

He opened his eyes and he had put his finger on the icon that opened the Kitchen Files.

Singa opened them.

‘It’s the operations manual for the falfa oasts, recipes, information on Preserves.’

‘Let’s see Preserves.’

Singa opened that file. There was a brief animated display of  the importance of jar washing.

‘Turn up the volume and replay that bit.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘What is he saying?’

‘He’s saying boil the jars at …’

“So you understand what he is saying?’

‘Of course. As easily as I understand you.’

‘But I don’t understand it.’

‘Well well.’ Singa clicked on the file history.‘You are right. This is in Tr’gila. I’m fluent in other languages I didn’t even notice.’

‘That is your field. Records. So you didn’t even notice did you? And why would that instruction be in Tr’gila?’soon

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October  6 – Thursday Toronto, 7:30 pm, Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander St.hotoct

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo


December – Thursday Dec 1st – Toronto, 8 pm, Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander St.divine


Early 2017:

my first local feature in over a year: location date TBA

it came in

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm startgames

June 2-4: attending: Capturing Fire 2017 –


check out these poets from Capturing Fire 2015:


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Born to be Blown

Where are the really sex positive queer anthems? After posting my Monday music blog I continued to ruminate on the many gay/queer pop performers I knew of – from Divine to Tom Robinson, from Jobriath to Pet Shop Boys. A fairly extensive list the more I considered it. Pansy Division, Jimmy Summerville, Limp Wrist (noise rock), The Frogs (folk punk), Sylvester.

snowlionlion in winter

Some really rock and Pansy Division does have some great in-your-pants stuff – Beer Can Boy, James Bondage – done with a sense of play. But much of what seems to get the most ‘air play’ Rufus Wainwright, KD Lange – settles into the romantic not the body.

umblsaving mr snow banks

I suspect there is a fair amount of self-censorship going on at the same time. A need to present queer as non-threatening, just like everyone. Which is true of pretty much most pop music. Though in hip-hop there is no dearth of openly straight sex songs about loving that fine pussy, baby’s got back. There are even some out gay rappers – Big Dipper has a couple free downloads of raunch that works.

discardsclothes quarters

I also see that one of the reason I often write pieces that are openly queer – emotionally and physically – is because I don’t hear that much of the bawdy love of the body. I want to push through those levels of shame about sex. Sometimes I do, sometimes I just get a nervous laugh and often I get people who wish I wasn’t so damn vulgar.


Born to be Blown

just wrap your lips ’round these velvet rims

and strap your hands ‘cross my engines

‘cause Daddy we were born to cum

do I have to tell you

I want to fuck you

in a song

or is that the sort of thing

you can’t say in a song

even with all the out singers

there’s still this smothering

hetero cloaking of

what queer pop performers

are willing to say

it’s fine to say

I miss you in the morning


I miss your morning woodie

the bed is so empty without you

is acceptable

but my mouth is so empty without you

will never make to the charts

she can sing

I long for the taste of you on my tongue


I long for the taste

of my pussy on your tongue

is just going to far

why are there no queer anthems like

‘Born to be Blown’

‘B-B-Bad to the Boner’

not that I want

to reduce being queer to body parts

but honey

taking the sex out of homosexual

to maintain assimilationist acceptability

gets to be boring

the empty space in the bed

isn’t as lonely

as the empty space between my legs

that you used to fill with your face

where is the chart topper

that isn’t ashamed of desire

that doesn’t hide in coy cloying


let’s bring sex back to sexy

if I have to tell you

I want to fuck you

in a song

I guess i’m going

have to write that song myself

but till I do

get your mouth a runnin’
get head on the highway
looking for adventure
in who ever comes my way

wrap your lips ’round these velvet rims

strap your hands ‘cross my engines

‘cause Daddy, sir, we were born to cum