part five
mardi gras. around three. two oclock. we were in
a warehouse. drums playing. people everywhere. on water pipes
near the ceiling. sitting on rungs on ladders. on various ledges.
sitting in the windows ten feet from the floor. on stage. drums.
two dominatrix. piercing a labia. or other. whipping. then. a
band. nipple. with guitars. fake blood. okay. finally. drums.
crash worship. everywhere. drums. people dancing. no shirts. some.
no pants. just a loincloth. male. female. no difference. dancing.
and then i saw the fire everyone was dancing about. in a metal
washtub. as people kicked it around. dancing around. bowing down.
to the fire. fire crackers exploding. here. there. under your
feet. hands reaching into the fire. screams. drums. whistles.
then movement. around the fire. in a circle. dancing. screaming.
flesh against flesh. searing almost. sweat mixing sweat. dance.
worship the fire. man. tall. wearing a dunce cap. other strange
garments. as he moves through the crowd swinging a ball of fire.
some. jump over it like in that jump rope game. back away. later.
as people dance against each other. flesh against flesh. the wine
is passed around. poured on people. man going around giving people
drinks. stage. what stage. then everyone on their knees. as a
woman holds her hands out over the fire. waves them about. says
an incantation. everyone bows to the fire. then back. all the
way. everyone lying on everyone else. head on stomach. in arms.
people smile. joke. talk. above the drums. everyone lying on each
other. then people. wearing loin cloths. rolling over the bodies
below. we use our hands and hold him up. staring at tattoos. pushing
him there. here. another person. as they swim the people. people
gone. people standing up again. the drums take hold again. people
dance. a man lights a rocket on the fire. hold onto it. as it
screams. screeching whistle. drums. on stage. everyone dancing.
people playing drums. not band members. some. audience. band.
no distinction. as some band enters audience. audience rising
to the stage playing drums while people dance. rocks thrown into
fire. man pouring in lighter fluid. dance. dance. drums. slowly
the crowd thins. day breaks through the windows. it is no longer
dark in this building. i rise up to a ladder and watch the dance
below. everywhere. then dancing. thinner. more room. wild. grab
someone. start spinning. finally clean up. stuff thrown into fire.
van loading up. the drums play on. some people have fallen asleep.
but the drums so loud pounding. finally stop. no. stop. no. six
or seven times the band tries to stop. but the audience plays
on. or the band. the drums continue. and finally when there is
only one drummer left. when he tires. does the music stop. it
is over. it is morning. this is crash worship. and mardi gras
day has begun.
# # #
many years ago the evangelists. the jesus freaks.
started coming out to mardi gras in flocks. everywhere. and then
they started harassing. bullhorns. shoving papers into your hand.
coming up to you. sitting next to you. preaching. in your face.
sometimes in a corner. nowhere to run. and the locals. there had
always been evangelists. but not like this. brought in in busloads
from states away. harassing. so the locals fought back. destroy
our celebration will you. the frog people arose. in your face
reaction. wherever evangelists broke out in large groups. the
frog people would come. chase them away. their own campaign. frog
is god. frog is love. hopolula. jesus died for your sins once,
but frog croaks for you every day. they had their own literature.
their own signs.
there are still frog people today. they no longer
use such direct methods though. after all. they have a right to
speak. but not to harass. not to ruin fun. so now. sometimes.
when you see the freaks come out. occasionally. youll see a group
of people playing music. drums. dancing. disrupting the freaks
in a peaceful. indirect way. and occasionally. if you look closely.
youll see a bit of green. a little frog.
# # #
later in the day. meeting crazy horse. going to the
houses of the locals. as they prepare their celebration. everyone
decked in all manner of costume. expensive costume. as sage and
juniper burn. clearing the air. we leave. cafe brazil. istanbul.
as the krewe of cosmic debris readies to march. crazy horse gives
me the frog to carry. voodoo blesses me with his silver paint.
then the music. the drums. as we begin the march. noon. through
the streets of the french quarter. this is no tourist parade.
this is the real thing. marching. more like dancing.
we stop every so often at a bar. so people can get
drink. cool them down. loosen them up. marching holding the frog.
frog is god. frog is love. i am a frog person here. i am a local
here. jackson square. then beyond. we stop. private party. i tell
crazy horse ill be back in a half hour. i never make it back.
# # #
a is a man i met. alive with life. they want to put
him in an institution. his mind. running so fast. jump. jump.
jump. he seems distracted. to me. to you. but he just thinks so
much faster. so they talk. he must be put away. staring at a fly
for an hour. wondering about it. he is a genius. not a crazy.
# # #
stopping in jackson square. the religious freaks
have come out. preaching. and people trying to disrupt them. maybe
frog people. drum circle. people dancing. i must help. so i start
dancing. make the circle bigger. fun fun. take that jesus freak.
dancing. then playing drums. as i burn the juniper and sage crazy
horse gave me. clearing the air. and then so much time has passed.
i missed my party. but what fun.
# # #
they asked me if i wanted to smoke. and i said yes.
as i had before. so we walked. sitting on a patch of grass. road
on either side. sat. talked. as she removed the seeds and rolled.
nice. like a real cigarette. not like others i had had. talking
to the one with the red hair. i had seen her at crash worship.
but we didnt meet until later. tall. victoria.
i had only three drags. and nothing had happened.
i sat there. as they got high. as i sat there. then. dimensions.
perceptions changing. time slowing. laughter. laughter. strobe.
i asked abby to read a poem. from a zine. but i couldnt hear.
it was noise. rhythm. sound.
TURNING:LAUGHTER:FLASH:JUMP:JUMP:STROBE:FACE:GRASS:
SLOW:MOTION:ECHO:WHAT:LISTEN:HEAR:MINUTES:HOURS:
RESPOND:TIME:ECHO:I:CANT:THINK:REMEMBER:TALKING:YEARS:
AGO:LAUGHTER:CANT:STOP:TRYING:ARMS:PICKING:UP:THINGS:
CANT:REACH:TOO:FAR:NO:DEPTH:CANT:TELL:FAR:THEY:WANT:
YOU:TO:TURN:IT:OFF:WHAT:MUSIC:POLICE:OH:OKAY:LAUGHTER:
FLYING:STROBE:FLASH:LETS:GO:DANCE:UP:WALKING:REGGAE:
SOMEHOW:GONE:ALONE:WALKING:BLOCKS:SO:LONG:LONGER:PAD:
TURNING:JELLO:SQUISHING:HAND:SO:LONG:WALKING:FURTHER:
NEW:BLOCK:TIME:SO:SLOW:PARANOID:NEEDING:SOMEONE:TAKE:
CARE:NO:ONE:KALDIS:LORETT:POLICE:OUT:LOOKING:PICKING:
UP:PARANOID:TAKE:CARE:CANT:THINK:DONT:REMEMBER:SHES:
GONE:ALONE:PARANOID:SO:LIKE:LIVING:IN:THE:NOW:HIGH:
it was the first time i was ever high.
# # #
later. wandering the streets at night. outside cafe
brazil a lone drummer begins. and the locals. with their handmade
drums. a rhythm in their hearts. listen. and slowly they all come
out in their costumes. extravagant costumes. two drummers. three
drummers. soon there are ten fifteen drummers. more. crowd of
people dancing about. all over the streets. the cars can no longer
pass. and the locals dont care. and the one who started no longer
there. someone else banging on the drum. i knew. i saw though.
crash worship left their mark. midnight. as mardi gras ended.
# # #
and she came up to me and talked to me. and as she
talked she told me about the colleges she was applying to. how
she was going to be an artist. but all i could do was to stare
at her fangs as she smiled. and talked. as i nodding. wanting
so desperately for those fangs to bite into my neck. staring.
later on i looked for the fangs. everytime i saw her. but i never
saw them again. perhaps she could control her mouth muscles so
as not to show them. but i remember. i saw them. so hot. so beautiful.
# # #
star. raven. and i forgot why she wrote that next
to her name. a wingnut. so they called her. and maybe she was.
living in her own world. with dragons and rainbow smurfs. but
for a time i knew her. and we hugged. and kissed. and i took care
of her for a day. but after. i couldnt handle. the outbursts.
the dependency. and she needed me to find her a place to sleep.
and i helped her one night. but i couldnt every. because she needed
to be brought. she was like a child. yelling at this man. screaming
at him to show her his ID. how old are you. i dont believe you.
i want to see some ID. i WANT to see some ID. and she screamed.
and all i could so was sit and watch as everyone stared. i needed
to draw. i couldnt take care of her all day. so i avoided her.
and she found someone else to take care of her. she always does.
the world she lived in. created over many years.
she sang for me a folk tale. of a girl who went to the mountains.
and a dragon. and a fairy. and she played the music of her land.
such strange music. such beautiful music. played on a flute she
got from a king beyond a place where the rainbow smurfs had not
wanted her to reach. but she did. and on the flute. carved a sign
of peace. not the peace sign. another strange scribble. i asked.
she said it meant peace. and the night she slept in my air conditioning
unit with me. she had said. in the morning. how a rainbow smurf
had knocked her out the night before. and she would have conversations
with ghosts. as we walked. they called her a wingnut. star. she
called herself a fairy.
# # #
sitting. watching a movie. henry and june. as the
one who is june sits next to me. as the one who is anais sits
across. as i sit henry and we are not those. yet in ways we are.
just as every human is every other human. in ways. no diametric
opposites. every human has a piece of every other human. and i
sit with june. who is not june. and i. wanting to have she. anais
parallel. next to me. so turned on by her here. as june caresses
me. turned on. more. but wanting. and watching. and smiling. and
for a time. then. we stop the movie. and talk about it. and she
sits next to me. and she. and i feel good.
couch. chair. staring at one love. while cuddling
with another. while so wanting the first. and though i feel greatly
for the one im with i want to be with the other. "because
its something new and exciting." and thats what she (who?)
would say. and thats probably what it is. and i hope she doesnt
get jealous. because they both mean a lot to me.
anais. june. we are not these people. parallels.
some yes. but not all. we are not the same. not even mostly. but
it is the fault. not fault. it is me. that i make parallels. between
people i know. and people i used to know. and people in books.
and people in movies. so i am henry. though i am not.
# # #
part of being together is knowing when not to be
together. to be alone. or with a friend. or some other. you must
balance your need to be alone. and their need to be with you.
or your need to be together. she needed to be alone. do not ignore
your needs. her needs. she needed to be alone more than i needed
to be with her. sometimes i need to be with her. not only want.
even if she needs me not to be. and then i might have asked to
stay. but not tonight. she needs sleep. and i need to write.
# # #
there is a creature. i fantasize about it sometimes.
fantasize being it. fantasize having it. fantasize it having me.
it is not male. nor female. it comes from a race of the first
dominion called the eurhemetics. it is called a mystif. a rare
creature of desire. clive barker introduced me to one. and i tried
to picture it naked. from descriptions. looking at it. so i know
it now. and i share with you a creature that fascinates me. let
it fascinate you.
# # #
in austin we slept on a roof. then when it rained
we slept in the air conditioning units. we took side panels off
the third. and covered the fans. total enclosure. no wind. no
rain. on nights when it was cold i slept at agatha and dans. but
the ac units were home. they were comfortable. a little space
next to where i slept provided room for my bag. my pad. and it
was a tent. it was a home.
# # #
on the way here i met a man. his name was eric. no.
his name was the quiet parrot. his parents called him eric. he
was an ecologist. or thats what they called him. but they called
him lots of things. he wrote fairy tales. he had a huge book that
told the history of the universe. in it there was the story of
his life. and as he lived and travelled. there were fairy tales.
the trip was long and we had many conversations.
it was he who first suggested i adopt a name. a long discussion
as how to best attack san francisco. where everyone was an artist.
and everyone was trying to be unique. and so on a bus. somewhere
in barren desert (but it was dark). artiste was born.
# # #
conversation with ben. walking through the streets.
of suburbia. talking. austin. people so pretentious. why. so i
try to explain. getting lost in explanation. but understanding
more. so i explained in general. someone comes up to me. i overhear.
oh. im a rebel. i skipped school today. im a drug user. i do pot.
shes such a slut. shes slept with five different guys. mentioning
these things to be elevated in their group. put others down. but
everything is relative. i get annoyed if someone who sniffs coke
thinks their anything special. a real "hard core" drug
user. because i know people who shoot up cocaine. speed. junk.
people who smoke crack like others smoke pot. people who shoot
up crank. those are hard core drug users to me. and yet they are
not even the extreme. one can never be the extreme. there is always
one more extreme. and when you actually are extreme you dont care
anymore. so someone saying they are extreme bothers me. especially
when they are nowhere near. but this was the conversation with
ben. ive seen real rebels. real prostitutes. real homeless. real
drug users. real anarchists. and even those arent real. i thought
for a time they were. but. talking to ben i learned something.
how everything is relative. everything everything i mean. you
can never judge a person for their actions without first looking
at the society the person lives in. someone may be a heavy masochist
because they enjoy biting and scratching in a society in which
this does not normally occur. to a hardcore straight-edge a coffee
drinker is a drug user. as with alcohol. different societies.
different values. i once met a man raised in a religious cult
who hadnt seen a tv or heard a radio until age twelve. at thirteen
he started daily use of cocaine. smoked opium on a regular basis.
part of the society he lived in. normal. everythings relative.
to deal with my past i must learn to judge less. people have not
experienced what i have experienced. so i cant expect them to
have the same values. act by them. they act by their values. and
that is how i must learn to judge them.
but in that system the one who believes in murder.
or child abuse. because its part of their culture. is justified.
the only true crime is a crime against oneself. doing what is
not you. what you dont believe in. but thats a pretty poor philosophy
if you want to better the world. i dont know. ill have to think
about it.
# # #
the old proverbs. maxims. sayings. so true. to thine
own self be true. to love another. love thyself. (or was it understand
thyself). find who you are. another does not make you whole. i
make myself whole. and take. and give pleasures. in wholeness.
understand. i am happy. (sad. angry. confused. alive).
# # #
mystif. its sex is like a hand. with eight fingers.
delicate. swirling through space like a bird. butterfly. it can
have sex with males. or females. many ways. so many ways. the
eight fingers surround a hole. going in. up. like a woman. a vagina
almost. control. it can place its finger sex inside the hole.
or lie around the outside. the man enters. like entering a woman.
fingers can massage. inside. outside. if he doesnt quite enter
it can give him a hand job. with no hands. if its sex is coordinated
enough. or inside. a hand job. wrap around. cajole. masturbate.
a woman lying on her back. and the mystif takes the
fingers of its sex. places them together. like a penis. hardens
them. enters her. and it can be like a man. or expand inside her
and massage with its fingers. or the outside. or both. six fingers
in. two out. and the fingers are smooth. thinner. longer than
real fingers. more flexible. no bone. they excrete lubrication.
and something like sperm. but milky if you taste it. when it orgasms.
two mystifs. lying with each other. each can be male.
each can be female. masturbate each other on the outside. on the
inside. two kinds of orgasms. then together. four fingers in.
four out. entering each other at the same time. masturbated while
having sex. while kissing. while rubbing each others small breasts.
in. out. massage. around in. out. as they both become pregnant.
or not. and orgasm.
# # #
gypsies are about love. from the inside. all things
flow inward. flow outward. but i couldnt listen. so ideal. so
hateful of the system. so loving of mankind. so beautiful. so
pure. scarlet. wasnt her name. but how i remember it. an angel.
she dreamt of magic. but. and i dont remember. but she. he. they
still remember each other. they were truly magick people. i hope
oliver didnt die from the gangrene. she didnt. the magick wouldnt
let her. pure.
# # #
i am a man who obsesses. i do it to add interest
to life. to cause pain so i know happiness. to have something
to talk about. to have something to worry about. so my life feels
like it has meaning. to feel emotion. intense emotion. if i depress,
i try to stay. to get more depressed. to wallow in my depression.
so i can create more. and feel an emptiness and despair. to know
how other people feel. contrasting happiness. my obsessions are
virtues to me. not faults.
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