Upper Reaches

Time to continue the tour of my house as we move upstairs to bed & bath. The bathroom has remained one of the least ‘decorated’ rooms the house – too, much moisture for one thing. There are shelves of towels, body wash, shaving stuff so the room is cluttered enough as it is. 

This stained-glass star is in the bathroom window. Handmade by my partner before we met it is one of the oldest object d’art that isn’t shop bought. He made couple of such pieces at a workshop he took one summer. We did have remains of this stained glass supplies for decades & I got rid of them in my covid cleaning frenzy.

I won this sunset (or is it sunrise) train track photo in a GenX Bears fund-raising raffle in the early 2000’s. I think they were raising money for their Pride Parade float. A friend was a member of the group. It was, as I recall, a ‘blind’ raffle, in which I knew the range of prizes but they were assigned randomly. I was happy to get this & it was perfect for over the toilet – I can gaze down the endless track of life as I pizza my life away 🙂

Across the hall is my bedroom which is relatively uncluttered – unless you count the dressers, racks of cds, book case, shelves of frequently used clothes as clutter 🙂 This wonderful Tarzan poster what a birthday gift from my fans at Cabaret Noir. I have seen the film – Acquanetta fulfills hetero teen boy exotica fantasy, while Weissmuller & Sheffield fuelled many a confused lad’s sexuality as, like me, we wondered how they kept their junk hidden under those loincloths while swinging through the jungle.

While I’m going about exotica fantasy – these jungle ‘epics’ were where many saw an abundance of hairless male flesh in our formative years. In particular, when I’ve seen some of these recently, as well some set in the jungle serials – I am delighted by the abundance of bare chested native guides, bearers & tribal kings. I wonder if any historian of black performers in movies has looked at this pool of performers.

This Japanese noren was a gift from a Japanese friend. It is a door hanging, about half-a-door in length, split down the middle. The samurai protects my room from negative energy 🙂 While the celebrants usher in good vibes. The leaf leads to my Peace Lily. 

On the wall, by the door, is this marvellous piece of religious kitch. A print I bought framed at an antique store, not longer there, near Queen & Broadview. It was love at first sight. Early 1900’s. This was a very popular subject – there are dozens of variations of the trouble soul clinging to the rugged cross in the storms of life. I love the face of Christ at the top of the cross – almost like seeing him in a piece of toast.

You Never Know Where He’ll Pop Up Next


you saw the face of Christ

in a piece of toast

yet you don’t own a toaster

you can’t even boil water

you have enough trouble

opening a granola bar


why was it only the face

was the slice of bread

too small 

to hold His entire body

was the holy toaster

limited to specific body parts 


was it the result of

ancient aliens

who after they built the pyramids 

designed a toaster

specifically to replicated

the face of Christ in toast

a face that seems rather caucasian

for an ancient alien


beside you aren’t the first 

to have seen the face of Christ

where it doesn’t belong

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First Person Pleasure

Glad Day Book’s Naked Heart is an ambitious new literary festival. Organized around the participation of over 100 lgbtqf’s performers – yes, that is getting more & more unwieldy as more sub-communities insist on inclusivity – ‘f’ is for ‘fluid’ – I’m sure we’ll be adding ‘c’ eventually for cis-queers. Anyway events are bing held in the down core at the bookstore, cafes, bars & Buddies.


I got out to First Person Pleasure: Non-Fiction Sex Writing at Glad Day. Moderated by Jon Pressick the panel looked at writing non-fiction (as opposed to non-friction) sex. They addressed many issues from anonymity, form, transgressiveness & why. The ‘why’ was, for them, a way of gaining personal insight by writing about their experiences – a way also of putting themselves back into it.


Katie Sly spoke about the writing process as a way of reversing camera angles – when she’s having sex it can be like watching it happen to her, when she writes about it she experiences it more fully, when you read about it you watch it happen to her. I liked her piece ‘piss play is everything I imagined it would be’ – which elevated w.s. to a nearly sacred experience of intimacy.


Mike Miksche sees his reporting as a way to open a window into worlds that people are afraid to go in to. He strives to write about in a way that isn’t sensationalizing the subject but also doesn’t appear to be anti-sex either if his experiences haven;’t been pleasant. He is frustrated at time that the level of frankness he works on is often seen as ‘smut’ and not at literature. Another panelist remarked that there’s nothing wrong with smut.


Star spoke from a trans perspective, & as a former sex worker. Star’s writing began as a way of examining past trauma. As things were processed there was a inner demand to allow these realizations go public so could help others deal with the same issues. Star felt as much as it was a need to understand the self there was no attempt at being apologetic or even blaming. This is how it is. I survived it so can you.

Jon talked about the one issue that I saw a subtext to the event – that sex writing has to be somehow radical & way out there – a series he had written was dissed by readers for being too tame. It made me wonder if there’s no interest in the ordinary sex lives of people & how they deal with the same issues of acceptance. Most of the sex stuff I’ve written certainly comes from the ordinary perspective but there are some who find it too out there.


The Future of Sex

he kisses like he means it

like he needs it

as much as I do

there is no rush to get naked

but there is a need to

we mean to be bare with each other

the compulsion of the flesh

a subtext for our concerns

about each other’s activities

his work

family at xmas

driving conditions

my writing

our notions of love

not that we are talking

about being in love with each other

but what love means to people

I’d say to men

but it doesn’t really vary

from gender to gender

he’s seeing someone he likes

I’m living with the same man

for over thirty years

is this enough for either of us

or is this need for enough

a reflection of a cultural social paradigm

that says we have to seek a mate

for life

to make our lives fulfilled and satisfying

that we need to settle down

we’ll have someone

to look after us when we get too old

to look after ourselves

so we won’t end up lonely bitter old piles of bones

stranded in a corner of a geriatrics ward

with only our memories of great sex

to keep us warm

too feeble to appeal to anyone

to even reach for a dildo

because honey there ain’t no handbook

on gay geriatric sex

I’m pretty sure the will to live

is tied into the will to get it off

but because age is so disgusting

only dildos will be willing to do the job

he rolls to face me

erections touching

says lets worry about the future of sex

after the sex of the moment


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