“How could anyone … ”

I watched the W5 piece on the Village murders, which told me nothing new. That some of the victims were immigrants who come here to be free to be gay while still being the closet to their wives & families was a sad irony – that they died for the opportunity is even sadder.

 


The cultural bondage of gender roles and sexual acceptability is clearly reflected in the b&d scenes the accused offered online. Of course this was not explored in the brief W5 piece which focused on ineffective police response and the lurid sensationalism of – wtf – cannibalism! Let’s take what is already a disgusting situation and make it even worse so we can paint the gay world as sick as we possibly can.

This isn’t the search for truth but exploitation. I sensed that the reporter was relishing the opportunity to say what was said. Legitimizing the opportunity to use language just for the sake of being sensational. So far, there’s been no mention of the role of impaired judgement. It is presented as if these men where somehow complicit in what happened to them by letting it happen at all. “How could anyone” shifts the blame to the victim from the predator.

In watching the W5 I was also dismayed to realize that as much time & money was spent on nice graphics & music as is probably spent on helping the victims’ families. One of the reporters said they had been closely following the case for months – fuck! This has been going for years! Media and police were alerted almost a decade ago – maybe if they had started following this case closely before it became so sensational some of these victims might be alive today.

These are the identified victims (so far) Selim Esen, 44; Andrew Kinsman, 49; Majeed Kayhan, 58; Soroush Mahmudi, 50; and Dean Lisowick, 47. I’ll repeat their names. His will probably never be forgotten so there’s no need for me to mention it.

Guilt

he told me I had too many shoes

I almost told him to drop dead

I have no sympathy for the shoeless

how did he know

that they didn’t prefer it that way

besides I’m helping the economy

he said I have too many cds

tee shirts

so many books

I am single-handedly responsible

for depleting acres of the rain forest

in my insatiable hunger for more

as mother earth stumbles

to a sobbing heap begging

no more please please

this rape and pillage has got to stop

 

so I have more shoes

than I can wear at one time

what fucking business is it of his anyway

his eyes glance around my place

going from the neat rows of shoes

neat rows of cd’s books

tidy piles of tee shirts

then to the  bed

 

we’d met at rally

to protest auto sector bail out

hit it off over free trade coffee

at a non-chain coffee shop

that gave a discount for our travel mugs

we were on the same page about issues

till I brought him back to my place

 

he started in on

my drive-in-sized TV

how TV was mind rot

how books were part of the problem

reading for solutions

rather getting out there making it happen

 

when we got to my bedroom

and he saw the shoes

and gasped

my that’s a lot of shoes

for someone who lives alone

I bit my tongue instead of his

laid back to glare at the ceiling

his head a lighthouse beam revealing

all my self-indulgent planet-wasting

depleting thoughtless humanness

 

finally he laid back

one hand gently on my stomach

and like mother earth

he let me have my way with him

because sex with guilt is always the best

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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

https://www.facebook.com/events/2000968880141003/

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

April 03 – every Tuesday

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

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

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Gunning For Fidelity

Gunning For Fidelity

what are you looking for

fidelity or ownership

fidelity as long as you are interested

but if the other party

should be unfaithful

then you can gleefully

slip off the chains of fidelity

blaming them for betraying you

for being the first one

because you have the power

only you

the other party must surrender all

for unity to be real

 

what are you looking for

commitment that serves your pleasures

as long as you permit it

as long as they satisfy

as long as they never look beyond

the scope of your pleasures

until you get bored

because they would never get bored

because if they did

then they really didn’t love you

they really weren’t as committed as you

life is so unfair

because you never met someone

who can live up

to the true fidelity you want

no one is as capable of it as you are

so you keep seeking

keep being disappointed

in each new opportunity

that disappoints

 

it’s always their fault

for lacking the deep spiritual values

you hold like a gun to their heads

waiting for the first flinch

as an excuse to escape

This is the 5th of the saṃghādisesas. Keep in mind these pieces are prompted by the saṃghādisesas, they are not explanations or expansions of them. This is a theme I have blogged about before in The Fragility of Fidelity. Stepping out of the lock-step of what relationships are often lets them last longer and become deeper and more satisfying.

 

So this piece is a variation on a theme for me, not breaking new territory. I’ve done reading on the history of romance, sexuality and marriage. What is currently assumed as the ‘norm’ comes more from idealized fiction, drama and poetry than it does less than ideal reality. We judge relationships according to a laugh track, good lighting or the right background music.

There is also a tendency to judge things by what we decided when we were twelve or thirteen and as we get older don’t even questions those formative decisions. At that age not only do we feel vulnerable but that first love is a permanent love. Our first falling out of love becomes a warning never to be that open again or a reason to seek revenge on everyone who shows an interest.

Is it love or is it obsession? If you think about me all the time, can’t get me out of your mind, not somebody until the right someone loves you – I may be flattered but I prefer men with lives of their own not one defined by my emotional responses to them. To last it has to be more than hormones. Lust can be a useful starter but it can run out of energy if that’s all there is to the relationship. There has to be chocolate too 🙂


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Relax – Keep On Dancin’

Gary’s Gang’s Keep On Dancin’ kicks off an mp3 collection of, you guessed it, disco. This is a cd that is full of great, delightful memory for me. Memories of when I moved to Toronto way back in 1979. Disrespected by the rock press this music has more resonance in my life than say, John Cougar Mellencamp – who was also big at the time.

Much of this is funkified jazz. Bouncy & in some cases insanely catchy. I had Gary as an lp & like many disco lps it was mixed like a party. High energy & all the tracks are great. I’m still not sure they were real or just a studio band but it is fun.

Instant Funk: The Anthology is a real band. I remember the lp cover of these shirtless, well-toned black men so hot they needed to surrounded by ice to cool down. More of that jazz funky stuff, standard let’s dance lyrics. Like so many though they didn’t move past the dance floor. They are fun sex music too.

M People: The Best Of – I picked this up as it was the only release I found that had their amazing take on the Small Face’s Itchycoo Park. Dance music, meets the 60’s, with great flute & that voice. More about M People when I move on up to M. Disco Motion: Various i.e: Fly Robin Fly, Rock Your Baby; Hot Nights City Lights: Various i.e: I Love The Night Life, Boogie Woogie Dancin’ Shoes. These two compilations are like walking up the stairs to an all night disco crammed with sweaty bodies. Some cuts make me want to dance & others bore the hell out of me – just like the old days. Without the distractions of bodies, smoke, people shouting some of these tracks are beautifully engineered. Disco saved the string section for sure.

Finally – disco it wasn’t all funk & games. Dance, music, politics were put together by Frankie Goes To Hollywood: Reload! the 12 inch remixes. Relax was a game changer with direct queer sexual content that propelled this band beyond the dance floor. Two Tribes was a brilliant piece of work. I had the original 2 lp release but got it bogged down in the concept – it felt stretched out & unfulfilled. But this set of remixes is perfect. Sadly Frankie disappeared promptly after this in a haze of artistic differences. Making great dance music just wasn’t enough.

Brooms

The Khalif took the key from the lock. ‘This door is never to opened.’

He put the key in the pocket of his silk robe. ‘You all have heard this?’

‘Yes, masab. Yes.’ his minions muttered and bowed.

Shalifa, his new wife, shook her head. ‘No.’

‘If you love me sweet tender Shalifa you will heed my words. No one, under any circumstance is to go into that chamber again.’

Shalifa was puzzled. Why would her husband choose to lock the broom closet? How would the palace be cleaned?

‘But …’ she began.

‘I brook no insubordination from anyone.’ He took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘You do love me my wildest treasure.’

‘Yes my husband I will obey thy command. But …’

‘I know, a woman is naturally curious. Do not fret your head with such matters when there are more vital matters of state for us to consider. The war with the Infideltas is escalating. I need your advise on such matters.’

‘Thank you my husband.’

Shalifa walked beside him into the war room. On the table in the centre of the room was an exact model of the surrounding hills and sea coast. All she could see  was the litter of papers on the floor. Was all this not to be cleared out? She nodded curtly to one of the servants.

‘Yes madam?’

‘Please clear this litter away. I find it hard to think of war with such underfoot.’ she commanded.

The servant fell to his knees and began picking up the various papers, discarded models of planes, boats and weapons that had been shoved off the table.

‘Wife what are you doing?’ the Khalif forced the servant to his feet.

‘Husband am I not to allowed to give a simple order without you questioning me?’

‘No my rarest cloud …’

‘I did not question why you locked the broom closet did I? Then show me the same love and respect.’

‘Treasure of the North, I see you have not become accustomed to our ways. These,’ the Khalif shoved the papers on the floor with the toe of his gold leafed sandal, ‘are trifles. A nothing that deserves only to be ground and crushed under foot.’

‘Under your foot perhaps, but not mine. I did not marry you to become a woman who tramples garbage underfoot. These feet must touch the only the pure clean white basalt of the floor and not the tiny tedious pieces of discard you have tossed there.’

‘Ohh you are a fiery one my peacock dancer. I see that I must obey this wish if …’

‘Yes if you wish me to obey you.’

‘As you wish my sweet. The perfumes of the night shall be spread once the floor is cleared. All will be made to your liking. But now pray tell what shall we do. The rebel forces have captured the east granaries.’

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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

https://www.facebook.com/events/2000968880141003/

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

April 03 – every Tuesday

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

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

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Sexting

On a recent Disability After Dark Andrew Gurza in conversation with Mari Ramsawakh covers a lot of territory including sexting, in particular sexting as a way to experience shared fantasy. Both of them use it as an opportunity to talk about sex they are physically incapable of performing but would like to have. They are clear with their sexting partners about their real limitations.

 

 

I enjoying sexting – sending, receiving – on my cell with guys I’ve met up with before. We’ve exchanged dick pics etc. Nothing can perk up a routine day like getting a sweet selfie for a guy bored at work – who then slips into the washroom for an even more intimate pic. It creates a fun sense of anticipation.

On line, some dating sites allow for c2c – camera to camera – but, to be honest, watching some guy I may never meet jacking off doesn’t appeal enough for me, even if it’s one I know. There is one guy, who I’ve played with in the past,  who would ‘page’ me to watch his ‘show’ with me providing hot talk to really get him off. After the second time I lost interest. Which can also happen without a camera on – too much sex talk with no chance of meeting up doesn’t hold my attention for long.

With no face – other than profile pics – one is never sure if who they are fantasizing with is actual the person in the picture. Usually these guy want you to talk about what you will do them, ask them what they want to do to you and conversations end quickly or they say doing them should be enough for me. It’s not as if we’re doing anything real anyway so if I can pretend, so can they 🙂

Icarus

when I caught Icarus

I thought he was a snowflake

as he tumbled through eons

the taste of fast singed flesh

on the tip of my tongue

filled my mouth

 

I set him on the ground

red-faced and sizzling

he wasn’t sure where he was

memory sun-stung into forgetfulness

the propulsion of the sun

sent him spinning through time

 

I offered buttered ice

to cool his shoulder smoulder

offered clothes to cover the cinders he wore

the wing stubble on his back

not sufficient cover for the shame he felt

at his blistered red raw nakedness

he stood chastened before me

barely able to open his eyes

to accept what he couldn’t see clearly

 

he was no longer the ambitious boy

but now a man on earth

his generations gone in the spin though time

he didn’t understand my language

didn’t know how to say yes or no to my help

followed me unsure

as I lead him from the field

into my arms    my home

 

I caught Icarus

now I need to find the right myth to repair

his broken heart    his broken spirit

to assure him

I mean no offence when I order

the extra hot wings

 

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kiss3

https://www.facebook.com/events/1895647050666334/

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

https://www.facebook.com/events/2000968880141003/

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

April 03 – every Tuesday

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

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

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That Tone Of Voice

Chalk It Up To Experience

‘don’t use that tone of voice

young man’

grade seven

the visiting maths teacher

the one the guys in the class

called blubber boobs

oh oh blubber boobs this afternoon

hope she can see my homework

over those blubber boobs of hers

 

she came to our school three times a week

Miss Dunlop

we also had a Mrs. DeMoine

who came twice a week

to teach us French

we called her Madam to her face

and Mizdammit behind her back

Miss Dunlop was another story

with her small waist

and gigantic breasts

 

she was berating me

I hadn’t written my homework

in the strict form she required

I can’t remember my reply

nor can I recall my tone of voice

perhaps I had slipped into

that school yard sexual intonation

we used when talking about her

erasing the blackboard with her boobs

there’s chalk on them there hills

 

I stood silent before her

after she ordered me

not to use that tone of voice

I couldn’t even apologize

not knowing how to control

how I sounded

I did know it was pointless

to ague with her

like my mother

winning wouldn’t get me anywhere

all I’d prove

was that I was a smart mouth

not that I was smart

 

Miss Dunlop taught me well

it’s better to be thought stupid

than it is to prove a pointless point

This is the 4th of the saṃghādisesas. It practically wrote itself. School memories are usually great to revisit, even the unpleasant ones. This one was more embarrassing than unpleasant. Like many of these  ‘true to life’ pieces it is a composite of different moments as I struggled through school. Not all of them were in Grace seven.

In Cape Breton many schools had travelling special teachers for things like maths, art, music & French. Usually female, young & sometimes pretty. Each brought different routines, different disciplinary tactics – that usually involved getting one of the male teachers to tell us to behave. The guys would always joke about these teachers breasts or lack of them. The bigger the boob the greater the respect for some reason.

I was told, more than once, to watch the tone of my voice, but many of the guys got the same command too. As I say here I just didn’t know what was meant as I couldn’t hear myself talking and once I was told to watch my tone I couldn’t hear anything else for at least ten minutes. Being singled out never helped my focus or ability to absorb information.

Being made so self-conscious opting for silence was the only choice I could think of at the time. Confrontation would only result in one of the male teachers, or the vice-principal, being called for to keep us all in line. The vice-principal was prone to giving the entire class detention not just the ‘smart mouth.’ So keeping my mouth shut was as much due to peer pressure than anything else.

One result was that I became very dismissive of my actual voice. I hated to hear recordings of myself. If you’ve been one of the fortunate ones who have seen me perform you know I got over that 🙂

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

 

Salacious

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.

Apparition

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

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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

http://www.queerslam.com

April 03 – every Tuesday

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

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

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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.

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kiss3

https://www.facebook.com/events/1895647050666334/

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

http://www.queerslam.com

April 03 – 

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

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

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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

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

kiss3

https://www.facebook.com/events/1895647050666334/

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

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

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The Shame of Ejaculation

The Shame of Ejaculation

oops

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

stupid

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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More More More Garbage

Moving along the shelf brings me to G starting with Garbage. I have in a pair of mp3 collections: 1, Version 2.0, Beautiful Garbage, Platinum Collection 2000, Bleed Like Me, Absolute Greatest Hits. At one time I had the first two as stand-alone’s my replaced them with mp3. This is a solid pop/rock band – similar to The Eurythmics: female lead singers with male guitarist writer – though I suspect Annie Lennox had more creative input than Shirley Manson & she also has a more emotionally compelling voice. It’s ‘Only Happy When it Rains’ verses “Here Comes That Rain Again.”

I liked those first two lps & enjoyed the ironic sardonic play of the lyrics. Shirley is a fine pop singer too but they didn’t get me. Their sound was crispy but not that distinctive. I lost interest after Version 2.0. The bad itself went though creative changes too. The other two lps are solid but more of the same. Collection 2000 are singles & movie songs that didn’t make to their ‘real’ lps, Hits is just that with alternative remixes of a few tracks.

To round out these two cd’s I did my usual historical sweep focusing mainly on female vocalists. There’s some Amanda Lear: I Am A Photograph, Sweet Revenge – Amanda has a gruff voice – male or female? Which is a part of Amanda’s appeal. The music is disco but the writing is experimental & fun & sexual. More true to disco is Andrea True Connection: More More More. This is fun stuff that brings back dancing days memories though at the time I couldn’t stand them.

Here too is Joss Stone: Lp 1 – an amazing voice & great material too. This started her career and the momentum kept up. More when I get ’s’. Now I step back to pioneers. Christine Perfect; self named lps from 1970 – reflects her time with Chicken Shack – more bluesy that she was with Fleetwood Mac but one can hear her influence on that band’s later sound. A sweet if not powerful voice this is relaxing & sort of romantic music.

The opposite is true of The Pretenders: Last of the Independents. Chrissie Hynde is a force of nature. This lp is for 1994 but could be released tomorrow & sound as fresh. Her influence on female pop cannot be denied. So I added Hole’s Celebrity Skin to this collection. Powerful brash angry & great fun. Too bad the pop machine chewed up Courtney Love. She needed a bit more of Hynde’s toughness.

Finally a pair of mid career Laura Nyro’s Smile, Nested. I’ve he’d these on Lp, as cassettes. These are sweet, emotionally rich, and romantically soothing albums. Not as bombastic as her early work and well worth searching out. Laura Nyro was a genius.

Upon A Time

Grandma Hubbard squinted at the clock.

Where was that girl?

Useless thing she turned out to be. Why I ever let her daughter marry that wood cutter I’ll never know. Common that man. Jack was just plain common and there was simply no way around that. But the wood does keep my little cottage warm. Can’t argue with that but still, common is common and no amount of wood would ever make up for that common streak.

Common. Common. Common. The clock ticked on the word.

Where was that girl?

After all I made her that riding cloak so she could take the walk here, keep her warm and make her look good. Never saw such a piece of work that that cloak. Such a rich deep red. Never see its like again would they. But it didn’t seem to do much for that girl. What was her name? Once was a time I knew her name but now all she is Little Red Riding Hood. Easy to remember.

An old woman like myself doesn’t have time to remember all the time I have to remember. It just slips down and away like the ticks of the clock. Each tick gone and never to be heard again.

Grandma Hubbard got off her bed and paced to the window. A lovely day. Ah yes. Haven’t seen one better since yesterday. She laughed to herself. She went back to the bed and sat on it.

Where was that girl?

It near lunch time and I’m feeling peckish. Sustenance was on its way or had better be. That ungrateful Mabel better have sent along some of that bread.

The cupboards here were bare. Always bare. Never enough food for more than a day. What where they afraid of? That I’d eat too much and get big and strong like I once was. Yes, that was it. Their plot to keep her a weak and foolish old woman just to get her gold. Her precious gold. Where was´ that gold? Where had she hidden it? Behind the mirror?

‘Foolish woman there is no gold. You know that.’ the mirror answered. ‘Just your old face. You’re getting old by the second. Older and older.’

She turned from the mirror.

Where was that girl?

Something, anyone. Why didn’t they let me live with them in their cottage. It was big enough. Bigger than this little one I’m in. Why can’t I just leave. Yes, I can go out and never come back. Run through the woods and be free. I’m old enough to be free. I deserved it.

All this waiting around for the kindness of others wasn’t what I was cut for. Free. I have to be free of all this. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and opened the door.

‘Gruff. Groowl.’ The wolf was there.

‘Why! if it isn’t my little doggie. Where have you been? I’ve missed you so much. Come in come in.’

The wolf leapt for her throat.

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

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