part one
sometime in the morning you wake up and its all a blur. last night.
last week. your entire life.
CARS:SWISH:BY:LIGHT:FILTERING:WINDOW:MORNING:NOON:
SLEEPY:SLEEPING:GLASS:BODIES:CLOTHES:SCATTERED:HERE:
THERE:FLOOR:BED:OCCUPIED:SITTING:ON:A:HEATER:DRUMSET:
SHELVES:DOOR:SILENCE:EXCEPT:FOR:CARS:SWISH:I:WRITE:
four parallel marks on the outside of a forearm. a fresh scab of blood
outlines their symmetry. last night as they drank blood from each
other. became one with each other. secretly in the bathroom each cuts
the others wrist. with the razor blade. never the inside of the arm
for fear it might cut too deep. and sever a vein.
later on. they returned and i watched as the cuts slowly healed
themselves into scars. and i drank of karens blood. and what they
said. and how they said it. it is sexually arousing. the drinking of
the blood.
found the base of the lightbulb john threw against the wall last
night. he was violent. sexually frustrated because sam wasnt there.
rachael helped him release some of his frustration when karen and i
were releasing ours.
bruises on my neck from karens biting. so painful yet so arousing.
# # #
sarah. so hot. mentally unstable. a drifter. in ways. like myself. i
felt an uncontrollable attraction toward her. just being around her
made me feel wonderful. shes not all there. ask her her name. she
pauses as if unsure. she told me the story of her life. being placed
here. being placed there. foster homes. mental institution. shes a
pathological liar. it was all false. or was it. ill never know. part
of the attraction. she likes pain. she enjoys it. shes an artist. she
draws with a pen and charcoal. and writes poetry. she reminds me of
roger. she doesnt know so many aspects of her life. she doesnt even
know herself. a mystery. a lie. or both. she turned me on so much.
something more later. a poem. good night.
# # #
last night. said goodbye to paul. he has a girlfriend. hes not sure
though if he wants one. after anne. he has doubts about long
relationships. relationships in general. he wouldve married anne. and
obviously they werent right for each other. cyndis a lot like anne.
paul notices a type he seems to go after. artistic. irresponsible.
something like beth said. we all have types. and the types we like all
annoy the hell out of us.
beths type. the kind that doesnt ever want to do anything. violent.
more. more. cant remember. wants to hurt people. psychotic. opposite
of beth. who likes to go out and have fun. loves talking to people. is
violent but doesnt really want to hurt. but they go together well. an
old boyfriend could almost orgasm simply by whipping her alone.
and now as i leave here i see beth would have become my best friend
had i stayed. i feel an attachment very similar to how i felt toward
jeremy. now both are gone. and i miss them both.
# # #
the milk. like a soft tongue. soft lips against mine. warm glass. cold
milk. sensations up and down my body. electricity. pulsing. erotic. i
hold the milk in my mouth. slowly let it wash down. slowly. massaging
my insides. like my whole body is being touched. i feel it in my feet.
my hands shake. finding it hard to breathe. feeling. like after
effects. like after sex. pulsating. inside. the clove.
clove. so horny. and so more. so. more.
# # #
you all stare at each other for a while. a little laughter. starting
orgies is awkward. finally. lets do it like the dream. lisa and erica
start kissing. scott and i look at them then start kissing ourselves.
finally homosexuality leaps to heterosexuality as the groups merge.
erica had a dream the night before. first her and this other girl are
making out. then this guy joins in. and another guy. suddenly it
becomes an orgy. so she tells us about it. erica wants to have an
orgy. we all sort of agree. okay. move the table. clear off the floor.
roll out three bedrolls. blankets. a pillow or two. and we sit down on
it all and stare.
last saturday. sitting around. marks. mother went away for the
weekend. party. people left. to go home. mark. rich. someone else.
drove to new york city. greenwich village. erica. lisa. scott. i.
alone.
HANDS:HERE:KISS:TONGUE:BITE:SCRATCH:KISS:FONDLE:SWITCH:
KISS:ROLL:OVER:NEW:PERSON:THEN:TWO:THEN:THREE:ATTACKING:
FONDLING:KISSING:RUBBING:BITING:YOU:LYING:ENJOYING:THEN:
KISSING:SWITCH:ON:TOP:REMOVE:SOMEONES:SHIRT:FONDLE:
BREASTS:MASSAGE:SUCK:BITE:NIBBLE:NIPPLE:THREE:LYING:ON:
ONE:PAIRS:INTERMINGLED:UNTANGLE:OR:SWITCH:BRA:PANTS:
ONLY:UNDERWEAR:BELT:WHIPPING:SCOTT:SCRATCH:HARD:SLOWLY:
ERICA:MOANING:SCREAMING:PLEASURE:THEN:ICE:DOWN:BACK:
BETWEEN:BREASTS:ALONG:NECK:SUCKING:BITING:THEN:MELLOW:
LYING:CALM:ARM:IN:ARM:LEG:SCOTT:LEAVES:LISA:SMOKES:
ERICA:I:MELLOW:
# # #
you are here. the time is now. do you know who you are. katie. austin.
smoking pot. talking. she tell us her dreams. and she was working. and
her boss said to her: you are here. the time is now. do you know who
you are. and on one hand it meant. you have to close the shop tonight.
and even though youre wearing your dress. closing. but. also it meant.
you are here. the time is now. do you know who you are. and she said.
yes. i know who i am and i am ready. and there were seals all around.
and this tiny tiny little seal rose to the surface. only inches long.
not suppose to come to the surface. naughty you. the humans arent
supposed to know. and so there are millions of teeny tiny seals all
hiding under the surface. and my dreams affect me. i mean hers affect
her. and she had confidence for the rest of the day because she knew
who she was and she was ready.
# # #
henry is a boy of seventeen who ran away to new york from south
carolina. to be an exotic dancer at the big top. hes since run away
again. presumably his father traced him through rent payments of
tenants of the house henry owns. charlie doesnt know where he got the
house from but apparently henry went back to south carolina and sold
the house to himself under a different name. he now works under an
assumed name as a go-go dancer somewhere in south carolina. i might be
meeting him at a party soon.
# # #
julie. there are hallways in her mind. at the end of one hallway is a
door. open the door and six girls live in a dormitory there. one is
paranoid. one is really quiet. they get in fights inside her mind. and
she cant control herself. it starts in a region right above her chest.
she can feel herself losing control there. she tries to hold it there.
but shes only strong enough to hold it there for a little while. then
it gets let out. and she cant control it. she freaks and starts to
hallucinate. the girls begin to fight. maybe well stay in town to
learn more about julie.
# # #
world upon world upon world. i am now sitting in another mcdonalds.
women everywhere gossip while a couple plans a childs birthday party
with the manager. different languages. the gossips all the same.
maureen this. beatrice that. and richard, audrey's son. is he in
college yet. my mother. her grandmother. so she asked her what kind of
pills she was taking. and did you know. she was taking anti-
depressants. so i was saying. that reminds me. oh really? the truth is
a virus. forget the truth. gossip is the real virus. if the truth
seeps in there so be it. but these are people who care little for the
truth. only gossip. the juicier the better. i could create a wild and
scandalous life and keep them entertained for months.
world upon world upon world. im living with bill. he lives down the
street in the latino district. nice apartment. hes one of the few
whites who live in the neighbourhood. they leave him alone though.
even the drug dealers say hi to him as he passes. crosses the street
and enters his apartment.
world upon world upon world. thrown into the gay subculture of new
york. charlie works at the big top as an exotic dancer. its a male
strip joint in central manhattan. mainly for gay men. he works along
side steve reeces. one of the male strippers photographed for madonnas
book. they are mostly gay. maybe all gay. i dont ask. charlies
obsessing over this guy dave. bills after this guy dan who works as a
waiter/doorman at the big top. they slept together one night when they
both were drunk. bill hasnt had a call from him since. he says hes
busy. and that he hardly knows bill. bills too young. though bill is
three years older than dan. dan usually dates men in their thirties.
dan is twenty. casual sex in the gay underworld of new york.
# # #
lying inside an unlaid sewer pipe. the candle flickers against the
metallic interior. mud and cobwebs cake the walls and ceiling.
underneath me lie dirty clothes, a sleeping bag, then rocks and
leaves. i pushed most of the leaves to the middle of the pipe. it is
warm and cosy here. if i close my eyes i am in someones room sleeping
on the floor. the end of the pipe is like a open window. i could live
here. keep a few things in the other end of the pipe. a bit of food.
things i collect. write by candle light at night. you cant really
stand up. you sort of have to crawl. but its easy once you get the
hang of it. twenty minutes and i can already crawl from one end of the
pipe to the other. not much candle left.
# # #
ELECTRICITY:ME:HER:AROUND:US:BETWEEN:US:DRAWING:
TOGETHER:CHEMICALS:FLOWING:INTERACTING:PHEROMONES:MINE:
HERS:SITTING:NEAR:SPINE:TINGLES:WHOLE:BODY:WARMS:MELTS:
ORGASMS:TO:HER:TOUCH:BEAUTY:INSANITY:EROTICALLY:TURN:
ON:BY:BECAUSE:EVEN:SHE:KNOWS:NOT:WHO:SHE:IS:PAUSES:
PAIN:SHE:ENJOYS:COULD:I:WOULD:I:GIVE:PAIN:THE:PLEASURE:
HER:TOUCH:ECSTATIC:WANTING:INTENSE:DESIRE:HE:AND:NEVER:
SHALL:I:KNOW:HER:AGAIN:
# # #
pleasure. pain. complimentary. living on the edges. the more pain. the
more pleasure. the more pleasure. the more pain. i could leave her
alone. lead my life at ease. but will i ever find anyone who evokes
such ecstasy out of a single touch. sado-masochistic. for only she can
give me such pleasure. but for the price of the pain only she can
give. i am henry. she is my june.
a deep depression overwhelms me. i miss jen. deeply. truly. the woman
i hate. the one i love. why is she always forgiven. i curse the love i
have for her. what is this force which drives me to her. when i know
she will destroy me. and she has. and ill let her again. michelle. the
memory haunts me with jen. the two are the same. yet miles apart.
michelle just came out to mike that she was bi. how could i have known
all this time. jen. michelle. one in the same. yet different. how. how
can this be. all this time and i still remember michelle. im not in
love with her though. yet i am. though we had no time to fall in love.
i dont even know who she is anymore. a stranger. a stranger. how i
wish jen could be the same way.
tears me apart
dreaming of her
lying asleep at night
knowing shes out there
haunting my dreams
she preys on my soul
the music
turn it up
its the cure
drowning
in my love
drowning in my love for her
take me - let me die - let me forget of this life ive led - let me
forget all of my loves
# # #
the indians sometimes smoked only to see the smoke rise. watch the
patterns. swirling. being manipulated by the winds. i do that now.
# # #
there is an upstairs here.
second floors are spiritual places. sometimes. if you look at it that
way. upstairs. even if you dont. they arent street level. hidden.
places not always open for you to go. mystical. the stairs are your
portal to another place. a place one cannot just walk into. one must
go up. away from view. like downstairs. basements. sometimes secret. i
wonder about upstairs a lot. i suppose people do. to a child. always.
whats up there. whats down there. hiding in a basement. away from the
rest of the house. secret hiding places. walking through new orleans i
stare. wondering. people do a lot upstairs. voodoo. have sex. bedrooms
are always on second floors. sometimes. the secret personal space.
staring out the open wall to the street. watching people go up. what
is up. does the cafe continue up there. or is it something else. are
there. that i dont know about. going on. while i sit here and write.
apartments in jackson square. all over. secret ceremonies of love.
magick. ever wonder about the djs booth. his space. lighting booth.
sound booth. attics are upstairs. keeping your past. things you no
longer use. things you will never use again. christmas is stored up
there. only to bring down for a time in december. i love going
upstairs. discovering those places. times. things. pasts. secret
personal spaces. nothing happens on ground level. the important stuff
is always above or below. do you ever wonder about upstairs. whats
happening there. wonder. and look. as you walk along the streets.
about things you never know. when you enter a house. an apartment. a
building. wonder.
# # #
this man. he told me about the ys in nature. told me to look around.
how it was fascinating him. everything in nature has a y. a y is
simple i thought. an intersection. and i looked around. and there was
a y everywhere.
# # #
this guy i met was telling me of an article in a paper a few years
back. probably sensational. but interesting. an assassin for the
mafia. he got paid sixty thousand dollars a hit. but he wasnt a normal
assassin. he was specialised. he killed vampires with a silver
crossbow. vampires the mafia did want around anymore. people the mafia
thought were vampires.
and how does one begin a career as a hit man. probably as a freelance
vigilante. eh.
# # #
conversation with fred. the whole world is fuzzy. it only comes into
focus for one second. and that second is now. the past is blurred. the
future obscure. only now is completely in focus. but the special thing
about dreams is that you can draw on all of that. you can take
something from far in the past and something from yesterday and have
them in the same place. people who have never met can have
conversations. it is the meeting ground of your life. where your past
is recombined and your future sought out. chris thinks dreams are
where you sort out your problems. he doesnt like waking up from
nightmares because he wants to solve the problem. maybe some
nightmares the problems solved. somehow i think a nightmare is a
reliving of something in life. it wont really help you solve your
problem, just give you a bad nights sleep. maybe other dreams help you
sort out your problems. not nightmares.
# # #
the other day my body was disconnected from my mind because i was
sick. i explained it to ben like this. there are two globes. each
swirling with all the colours of the rainbow. one is my mind. one is
my body. they are each only half there. your hand would pass through
either one. they vibrate causing an ache in my muscles and my head.
when i concentrate i can use this muscle or something in the middle of
my chest to pull the globes together. when this happens they become a
solid white globe and my mind and body are one. the aches disappear
and i feel incredibly better. when i stop concentrating they fall
apart and i feel sick again. then i was playing nintendo over bens.
and for some reason while i played nintendo my mind and body became
one. when i stopped. they fell apart. then i thought about it. intense
concentration. thats what was bringing them together. then i thought
what else involved intense concentration. meditation of course.
bringing the two together i surmise the two are similar and those that
are good at one should be good at the other. its just an idea. but i
think it has some merit.
# # #
chris. communication. understanding. words cant express everything.
and the spoken word expresses so much more than the written word or
the signed word. communication is trying to get someone to a similar
understanding youre at. its like theres this idea in your head that is
sort of like a large cloud of fog. and maybe you can solidify part of
the cloud. make it into water. words. and then you can give these
words to someone else and they can try to recreate the cloud. but the
cloud is never the same. the molecules never settle into the exact
same position as your cloud. the definitions of the words they use may
be slightly different. or the method they use to reform the idea might
not be yours. they could have psychic walls that dont give the cloud
enough room to fully form. or maybe they have more space than you.
maybe the cloud mixes with other clouds they have and becomes
contaminated. no matter what. its never the same cloud. but sometimes
its close. sometimes the words were just right. they knew just how to
form the cloud. and to the naked eye theyre the same. this is true
understanding. and you know when you have that. you just know.
(occasionally though this is really hard because part of the cloud
can never be expressed as mere words. it just wont condense that way.
so you give the person everything you can and hope their knowledge and
experience will allow them to recreate the missing part).
growing up is merely a development of the methods of distillation and
recombination and a gathering of clouds. as we grow we learn new
methods of expression. a larger vocabulary. music. mathematical
symbols. whatever. and we learn new and better methods to understand
other peoples expression. and finally we build larger and larger rooms
with more and more clouds that interact more and more.
chris expresses that the part which cannot be put into words is
actually emotion. and it is this emotional part of idea which is
hardest to communicate.