Monday, July 29, 2013

shay, margie, annie, chrissy

WOMEN 76-79
SHAY
We met through a personal ad. She was a settled New Yorker, and native of South Africa. She worked as a freelance seamstress, and had some very nice hippie qualities - global awareness and global tastes in fashion and music, travels to Burning Man, that sort of thing. She attracted me, but not in a consuming way. Some brief sexual exploration brought us to a place where we decided we’d be better as non-sexual friends – which we remained for years to come. Sometimes i regretted that path, as the healthiness inherent in the idea of “friends who fuck as needed” was growing in me.
MARGIE
One of the first romantic moments in my life when i tried to really rise above the stunted shallowness and negotiated romance of this society…to live by the thought that we can and should be able to love anyone. Margie and i lived a mile or so apart in Astoria. I can’t remember how we met, but we became nice friends. Hanging out, talking, indulging our shared passion for Muppets (we made a project of trying to see every single Muppet film, which she ended up having less stomach for than i…of course, i was dedicated to the project as a writer, wanting to understand why the franchise had been mostly unable to survive Jim’s death). I never had any zowie feeling for her, but when she broached romance, i wanted to give it a try. I knew that desire always fades anyway, so why not? I liked her. But the one night we spent together just didn’t have any magic. I felt off-balance and unsure. So much so that we never tried again. We kept the friendship going for a good while, but eventually faded away. Even though we never talked about it, the fact that our romantic moment hadn’t worked, was probably a factor.
ANNIE
http://nakedmeadow.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html
CHRISSY
We met online in the “platonic only” section. A hippiesque free-spirit, she was in a long-term, same-sex romance that was beginning to break up. She had never been with a man, and we wrote long letters talking about her past. She’d been raped by a step-father as a young teen, then later molested by another male relative. Over the course of our writing, we became convinced that i was to be her first male lover. She was so smart, loving, and literate. Finally, after half a year or so, we met. We talked in a coffee shop for over an hour. It was very sweet…but i think we both realized something was missing. We hugged and went our separate ways. A year or so later, she appeared in my inbox again. I visited her in Connecticut. She’d had at least a couple male lovers in the interim, which had been pretty positive experiences. At that time, i was seeing someone to whom i’d promised monogamy, so we just held each other nakedly for a few nights, gently caressing and kissing a bit. The physical attraction wasn’t overwhelming, so on one level i was actually glad for my possessive lover at home (she, however, was anything but glad when i returned and told her about my trip). The visit was a beautiful experience in every way…made all the more special by knowing how important i’d been in helping her move past the demons of her youth. I cried for the human race, that my lover wasn’t even the tiniest bit sympathetic to Chrissy. I visited her again some months later, when i was no longer in a relationship. We shared spirits, music, and walks. Although it felt very comfortable, it still wasn’t the consuming attraction i’d been hoping for. We became sexual again, and she wanted to use a condom. Knowing how much i loathed them, i was content to tell her that we didn’t need to consummate in that way (which also seemed sensible, given my ambivalence). She was disappointed. One of the funnier moments of my life occurred while giving her cunnilingus. My behind was raised up, and i suddenly felt the sensation of a tongue in my crack. It was her dog, eagerly gettin’ in there, as they say (the kind of humorous injection that most sexual encounters are in dire need of). We drifted apart, which i didn’t want. I’m sure the break in contact came from her. I didn’t expect someone as spiritually advanced to walk away from a caring friendship for sexual reasons, but that’s okay. Perhaps she’ll need me again some day.

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Letters from the Earth


THEATER 71
-fall 2003
Working on Mark Twain's LETTERS for the monologue show, i realized i wanted to do an entire one-man show of it someday. I figured it would be in some more metropolitan locale, as i wanted to do it with full nudity. But i knew i’d be on the beach a few months longer anyway, saving money for NY, so when Mark asked whether i’d be interested in doing a solo LETTERS at the Holmes House, i said yes. I prepared it pretty much alone (indeed, Donna and Lucy were the only Players to even see the full show). Chris had left town, but John offered to do tech. He was great company. The one or two nights he couldn’t make it, Donna stepped in - she was there for each performance. I adapted a fuller treatment of Letters 2 and 3, did Letter 8 as i’d already worked it, and added Letters 10 and 11. Our set was candlelit, with red gel effects and a fog machine. I got fancier devil horns, and added a choir robe, plus the Caiaphas robe from JCS. I toyed with doing different accents for each letter, but ultimately kept the southern one throughout. Carrie made beautiful show posters (no charge this time), and i added one final encore performance at the Orpheus itself, which was very special and brought great delight to Tony. Happily, Amanda caught the second half of that one too. Our run had small but appreciative crowds. Letter 8 (the sex one) was still the biggest crowd-pleaser, but my new favorite was 11, which details the scope of man’s brutality to man, highlighted by a tale of the Minnesota massacre of 1862, in which the natives raped and crucified a family, then got really nasty. Very powerful. We got a nice photo in the News Press, and a nice article by Ron Heffner at the Beach Observer.

Friday, July 26, 2013

South Family Simpheads

I've had a strange relationship with animated comedy shows in my life thus far...strange, in that it's largely been a non-relationship. That's strange, because i've always had an elevated ear for comedy, particularly the subversive kind. And my adulthood could fairly be called the golden age of subversive animated comedy, because of the big four - BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD, THE SIMPSONS, SOUTH PARK, and FAMILY GUY. Given my age and personality, i should have been well-primed to devour most of these, if not all. But no. This despite friends who have tried to convert me to one or more of the faiths. I've often said that the truest measure of intelligence is a person's capacity for, and appreciation of, humor. So let's see if we can figure out why the golden age has been passing me by.
THE SIMPSONS
1989-?
I've found the two handfuls or so of episodes i've seen to be enjoyable, and can understand why this show has filled a need for many. But as a youth, my benchmark for great comedy was the Marx Brothers and Monty Python. In that light, SIMPSONS has never seemed anything more than "good". Good is fine, even admirable, but it's clearly not great. That said, the Halloween "The Raven" episode ranks as one of the 100 best episodes in the history of television.
BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD
1993-1997, 2011-2012
I think i was simply way too earnest at the point in my young adulthood when B & B arrived. I was becoming a "serious" actor, gorging myself on Shaw, Stoppard, and O'Neill. I wasn't much of a TV watcher, and certainly not for the most overtly infantile of the big four. Plus, did one of them wear a marijuana shirt once, or did i only imagine it? I was too serious for that, too. I haven't seen any of the new episodes, but occasional glimpses of the classic have made me think it might be the most consistently funny of the four. I saw a small chunk of DO AMERICA, and was much more entertained than i expected.
SOUTH PARK
1997-?
I've seen occasional brilliance in the nibbles i've had. Their treatment of scientology? Brilliant. The CHEF AID album? Brilliant. Trey Parker and Matt Stone's other projects, particularly TEAM AMERICA: WORLD POLICE? Beyond brilliant. The BIGGER, LONGER, AND UNCUT movie has been on my to-see list for years (and i only just now got the penis reference). The most nihilistic and scatalogical of the big four, and that can't be bad...but it's also far and away the most violent. When i watched a best-of dvd, i found that i simply can't take regular doses, because of the violence.
FAMILY GUY
1999-?
As i first saw scattered bits and pieces, i began to think that this was what SIMPSONS had wanted to be when it grew up. The most hysterically funny isolated moments of any of the big four...you can't go wrong watching clips. Stewie? Brilliant. Elderly pedophile neighbor? Freakin' brilliant. And their spoof of STAR WARS is probably the most brilliant thing any of the big four have done. In regular doses, the show does get just the tiniest bit boring, though.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

gentle fucking

If you find a sad womyn
know what to do?
Give her gentle fucking
for an hour or two

If you know a lonely womyn
is thinking of you
Give her gentle fucking
for an hour or two

Tan, pink, yellow
or those from Timbuktu
Offer gentle fucking
for an hour or two

Tall, small, hairy, bald
buddhist, muslim, jew
Holy, gentle fucking
for an hour or two

Shy, bold, or old wimyn
Horny teens too
need some gentle fucking
for an hour or two

Should you give her flowers
or a shirt that's blue?
Sure, plus gentle fucking
for an hour or two

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

you...(BLANK)!

It can be fascinating to deconstruct one's self-image...figure out why a disproportionate amount of your identity is invested in your nose, penis, or boobs...your wardrobe, job, romantic status...children, alma mater, skin color...
But who ever stops to analyze our society's self-image? What we can learn about ALL of us, through the ways our language reveals our priorities? I can think of no better way than to deconstruct the words used when people label each other by a single body part. Is there anything we humans identify with more than our bodies? It's natural that our language would reflect this obsession. So any body part which we employ to identify an entire person, must be a powerful word indeed. How then do we feel about those parts? Which parts merit such consideration, and which are ignored? Which fleshy metaphors reflect positive attitudes, and which are negative?
There are a number of parts that almost make the cut. But we'll omit the likes of gutless, eagle-eye, big mouth, knock-kneed, or showing spleen, as adjectives, compound nouns, and verb phrases lack the emotional punch that comes with a direct person-to-part, noun-to-noun equivalence.
Here are parts you've never heard anybody called - toe, foot, leg, navel, stomach, womb, chest, shoulder, arm, hand, finger, neck, ear, nose, face, and head. What does it reveal about us that nobody gets called a head, hand, or face? More conspicuously, what of heart and brain? The closest to the former are "bleeding heart" and "sweetheart" - but one of those is negative, and the other weak and diluted. Does our society have a lurking prejudice against emotion? For the brain, we have "brainless" or "brainiac", which carry some emotional punch...but does the absence of "brain" as a direct apellative reveal a prejudice against intelligence?
All of which leaves us with...THE BIG SIX! Dick, asshole, cunt, pussy, twat, and boob.
DICK
Arguably the single greatest pejorative in the english language. How revealing that we should load all that weight upon the male genitals. But ought not the penis be a place of happy associations? The center of the male orgasm, and a "tool" which many women would choose even over the most deluxe, tricked-out swiss army knife? To say nothing of being the wellspring of babies, our most precious resource? On the negative side is only "penis as wellspring of pee". But even with that in the mix, how is it possible that "dick" became anything other than loving and complimentary? For one simple reason - dicks are attached to men. In the zeitgeist, the history of dick IS the history of man. Yes, men created this language we speak, and yes, homo sapiens males are the most self-aggrandizing egomaniacs in the history of the world...but this is one case where truth escaped, perhaps because no amount of denial could keep subconscious self-loathing this big from slipping out. Or maybe it's just part of the male ego trip - making your most beloved appendage the very symbol of your worst behavior...and laughing, because there's no animal below or god above to punish you. "Dick" is the symbol of the way men treat each other - with avarice and aggression. And it's the symbol of the way men treat women - can you say "rape-prevalent society"?
ASSHOLE
An unqualified pejorative. "Ass" is also used in this context, but is alternately an abbreviation for "jackass" (which is also uncomplimentary, but for different reasons). Asshole taps into the scatalogical nature of our society - our fascination with poop and farts. In terms of forthrightness without undue psychological baggage, asshole is as pure and healthy as any pejorative gets. To equate someone with the hole whence excrement emanates? Why, it's almost poetic.
CUNT, PUSSY, TWAT
A pejorative so great they named it three times! With the gleaming wondrousness that is the vagina, how could any labia-labelling be anything other than the greatest compliment conceivable (ahem)? How, indeed. Examine the multitudinous contexts:
Cunt
The most harsh and demeaning iteration, "cunt" is generally where one goes when attempts at civilized discourse are done. Cunt - the conversation ender! A term directed at women, employable by either gender, but used mostly by men (because their use extends to idle talk, whereas women only use it when they're, shall we say, upset).
Pussy
Perhaps the most demeaning word for one man to call another, it indicates cowardice, weakness, or victimhood (in other words, stereotypical images of "femininity"). A pejorative that could only arise in a society which fears and hates women. Used almost exclusively by men against men, and often playfully so - which makes the anti-female underpinnings all the more insidious. Many males use this word their entire lives (and teach it to younger males) without ever being consciously aware of why it's so profoundly denigrating.
Twat
No smiling, now. A female genitalia pejorative with shades of playfulness, it is directed only at women, by either gender. It's demeaning, and often accompanied by the word "dumb". When men use it instead of "cunt", it means they haven't necessarily given up hope of having sex with said woman. When women use it, they're often avoiding the outright fisticuffs to which "cunt" can lead. Among women, a higher playfulness factor pertains.
BOOB
Yes, another pejorative (sigh). How did boobs (breasts) become associated with foolish stupidity? That which gives us sustenance when we enter this world? That which nature has designed to be a source of endless fascination and fun? How did this become a BAD word?? There can only be one explanation - we are a society which denigrates all things female. It stuns me when some people (females included - a few young ones, too) try to insist that women have achieved equality. But language deconstruction, unlike a person, is not susceptible to self-delusion. At the most basic levels of our societal self-image, in how we think of each other on the subconscious level, women remain firmly in the dirt. A less prevalent variation of boob is "tit"...but that's a british thing, so we'll let them figure it out.
THE BIG PICTURE
Is it coming into focus? It seems we almost never equate a whole person with a single body part except when we seek to disparage them. What does it say about us that disparaging one another is so central to our societal self-image? It says we don't like ourselves a whole lot. But what else would you expect from a species that dreamed up hell, original sin, and beer bongs? And what does it say about us that disparaging each other is clearly much more important than elevating one another?
It says that you'd better watch your ass.
And the other parts, too.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

masturbation montage 4

The women i dream of, when dreams are all there is...
Continuing to be in touch with the sexual repression, denial, and damage in this society (and my own in particular), there has lately been a higher-than-normal percentage of unobtainable women in my fantasies...women currently out of reach, or past lovers that almost or never were...
ALMOONA
A woman i left behind in NY (but we still maintain occasional written contact), with whom the act of hugging triggered a rush of endorphins, dopamine, and other such feel-good brain chemicals, like nothing i'd ever known. Old-fashioned and fundamentalist, you'd be hard-pressed to find a woman less compatible...though apart from core values, we get along delightfully. If she told me that god had created us for each other, i'm  pretty sure i'd be anything she asked. Which is pretty crazy. But how do you turn away from possibly the greatest physical relationship of your life (and for me that definition includes the spiritual), without shredding your own spirit into pieces? THIS is the kind of choice our society offers? Ignorant savages, are we. Knowing the level of attraction we shared means we'd have profoundly healthy babies, i dream of beautiful impregnations. Is it possible my obsession is partly fueled by a failed friendship with a desirable woman who is perhaps the greatest personality match i know? Oh yes.
LAKOTA
A profoundly poetic spirit i once spent months getting to know as a pen pal. The night we met, we had a deliriously beautiful sexual experience, but i backed away from consummation...then the next day, she turned away when i suggested we go slower (i may have even said "start over"). Would i have held back if she hadn't been a single mother? Even though it's possible i made the right choice (in terms of the no-win choices this society provides), i dream of being in our most intense carnal moment, and holding nothing back.
SAVANNAH
A woman almost-but-not-quite impossibly young, who works at my favorite local restaurant. We see each other there once a week, and considering the social restrictions placed on conversation under such circumstances, we've gotten to know each other well. She's buddhist, and homeless after a rift with her fundamentalist christian mother. If she needed a place to live, or wanted me as a platonic friend, i'd be delighted...but she also fills my carnal fantasies, mostly because she's the only one among my three most likely potential lovers, for whom i feel intellectual and physical desire equally.
PERIPHERA
#1 - Rosario, a friend in Argentina with whom i once shared an apartment. There was never anything sexual between us, until we started writing this past year and became spirit lovers. She wants to live in the U.S. again, and i've told her my happy little home is waiting for her...complete with a wedding to allow her to stay as long as she likes. But the immigration restrictions are daunting - i would have to demonstrate sizable financial assets, something i've spent my life avoiding. She's fallen from the center of my fantasies, because she's avoided the question of whether she saw me as more of a brother, way back when.
#2 - A mother and adolescent daughter i once lived with. I had sex with neither of them, but the mother asked me to have a child with her, and the daughter was immensely attracted to me. My current fantasy? I refer you to "Lolita"...and i don't mean sort of, in an ineffectual suburban white boy way. I've fantasized marrying and murdering the mother, to be with the daughter.
#3 - Angela, who is pondering a 1200-mile booty call from NY. We had a mostly dysfunctional affair (but fine potential friendship).

Friday, July 5, 2013

rape porn

I recently experienced one of erotica's sub-genres for the first time - rape porn.
It's not surprising that i'd made it this far without being exposed. For a feminist who has almost always been hyper-sensitive to the myriad forms of violence against women, the idea of an entire branch of entertainment founded on romanticizing the most traumatic, horrifying personal assault, is little short of repulsive.
So try to imagine how i feel, knowing that i kind of liked it?
Maybe not as bad as you think. I know the value of self-acceptance, and understand that my own sexuality has been irreparably damaged by this repressed, self-loathing society. No matter how much i escape the guilt and shame that was drummed into me, nothing will ever erase those decades of sexual deprivation.
Yes, i liked the film. Yes, i watched it several times, often with an erection in my hand. It's okay, i was alone, nobody got hurt.
What kind of adult does a teen with zero sexual outlets become? If you get through life without abusing, having a fetish or sado-masochistic bent or preference maladaption, engaging in prostitution, or being an addict (sexual or otherwise), you're a rare cat.
And i don't even like porn! But that's perhaps about artistic merit, as i adore a quality NC-17 film. And the acting and production values in this film were superb. I don't speak japanese, but i have a hunch the dialogue was realistic.
It's even possible that rape porn can be healthy, in the big picture...providing an innocent release for millions upon millions of damaged individuals. Indeed, it's not even strictly a male phenomenon. Even if there aren't ANY wimyn who watch rape porn (let's not kid ourselves), how many have rape fantasies? It doesn't mean they want to be raped (except those who do...there's little in the current sexual landscape that's either pretty or tidy).
Should rape porn even be classified as a sub-genre of erotica? Couldn't it just as easily be classified a sub-genre of violence cinema? As much as i'm turned off by slasher films or body-count action flicks, do i want to live in a world with no violent films? Probably not (though i'd be happy to try). Am i horrified to live in a country where every child will have seen 1,600 television murders by the time they're eighteen? Wait, that can't possibly be right...ah, it's not. The number is actually 16,000. Anthony hopkins recently came out against the "pornography of violence" in film, saying he's done with it. You're a little late to the party, mr. lecter, with your Oscar and your millions...but thanks. And in the meantime, no one's disproven the theory that violent images provide a form of cathartic release, perhaps even making some people less aggressive.
So i liked a little rape porn. What kind, you ask? A product of 70s Japan. Something about a female teacher in front of students. Give me a break, i'm barely able to resist ANY kind of asian woman. And she wanted to be raped! After the first uninvited one, she spent the rest of the movie putting herself in almost any situation likely to end in rape. I know, i know...it was probably written by a man, and no child should be within a thousand miles of such offal. And i'm happy to put it behind me. At the end of the aforementioned 48 hours, i unceremoniously tossed it, mostly because i didn't want to train my brain with those images any longer. Four days later, i'm happy to announce that i haven't run back to that trash can.
Not even once.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

little miss nimblefingers

I was in the dollar store today. A little girl was in a cart, being wheeled around by her mother. The girl was having a grand time - talking to strangers, a merry extrovert was she. I was one of those she spoke to, after her cart almost bumped me. In the checkout line, i was in front of them. Her mother, absorbed in their transactions, didn't notice when the girl started tossing nearby hanging items into their cart. I almost said out loud, chidingly but playfully, "Watch out for little miss nimblefingers there".
But i didn't.
Why?
Social moments pass in a blink, giving us only microseconds to determine our behavior. I knew that there was much to be gained by speaking, in terms of her social development. What was at stake was nothing less than a child's evolving attitude toward strangers and society. With the right tone, and twinkle in my eye, she could have forever had a more positive, open, friendly attitude toward nothing less than life itself.
Am i overstating the case? I don't think so. There are a million moments in any child's life, so it's easy to think that a single one of them might be irrelevant. One might assume that this child's nature was obviously already outgoing, so a moment that would be forgotten minutes or seconds later would have no particular import.
But i don't think that's the way life works. I think most people can't even begin to grasp the interconnected continuity of life.
I think the process of a child's socialization is relentless, the little spongy scamps. Constantly testing and collecting data. Way below the surface, their subconscious supercomputers never stop. Adults too, in a less focused way. The tiniest moment does matter...each moment creates ripples that are forever creating other ripples, throughout millions and billions of people and other life forms. I'm reminded of one of the more eye-rolling conceits of the STAR TREK universe, the notion that one can go back or forth in time while maintaining the integrity of the timeline. Predestination paradoxes may be well and good...but the idea that one can safely remove a person who "didn't affect history", or even walk through an alien village in disguise, without ultimately changing EVERYTHING about that world, is just silly.
To think about a child in this way can be overwhelming, particularly for parents, who are forced to assume wayyyyy too much responsibility for their offspring in this society's nuclear family paradigm of isolation...but that's another story.
I'm forced to feel a little sad...that in some way i may have let that little girl (and by extension, the universe) down.
I figured out pretty quickly why i stayed silent. I censored my word choice, and didn't have time to come up with something better. Living in a society in which women are not yet fully equal to men, i didn't want to call a girl "little"...that kind of terminology can be diminishing in this man's world (no matter that she WAS little, relative to most everyone - there was still a danger). I also realized that "miss" was no good. It wasn't so long ago that a woman was no more than some man's property. "Miss" is simply shorthand for "unclaimed uterus". That's why there's no equivalent male title.
Curse and damn those "Little Miss" children's books. You know the ones. Or maybe you don't. They were cute, well-intentioned, and fed into my head at a very impressionable age. That's the trouble with life, though.
Pretty much everything is well-intentioned.