covidesolation

How am i holding up under quarantine? Inshelteration, shall we say?

Cracks are starting to show.

I live alone in a pandemic. Not literally true, but true enough, as i have almost no contact with my housemates that could be described as humyn. An overstatement, perhaps...but i haven't touched another humyn for the better part of a year.

At first, i observed that things weren't so very different from normal life in this culture of alienation, in which i hadn't had sex or serious cuddling in two years. The main difference was psychological - feeling cut off from possibility was a punishing weight. Where there's life, there's hope, but that was suddenly in short supply.

At least in the old days, i got the occasional hug. Has it affected my health deleteriously, to be without even that? Maybe.

My energy was fine for many months. My creativity was bursting, as i tore through projects i'd put off. It was, however, easy to grow weary of online calls and events. The two-dimensionality almost made me feel worse, not better. To say nothing of seeing others with loved ones (or at least tolerated ones).

How often have my thoughts turned to the holocaust of irreparable trauma in our culture's prison system, where we casually inflict far worse on millions of humyns every single day?

After a few months, the insomnia i'd had touches of in recent years, returned. It came and went, for weeks at a time. Yesterday was the worst, as my after-lunch nap stretched to two hours, and once i awoke couldn't recover from fuzzy-headed inertia. It was the first time i've ever been almost incapable of motivating myself to do my daily music practice. I pushed myself outside and ran. It didn't help.

I've been able to observe my own impatience with others. There's an edge, a curtness that i don't seem quite able to control. It's slight enough that perhaps no one's noticed...but it's there.

Have i embraced escapist behavior? Not as obviously as for many, but yes. I haven't added new behaviors, nor relapsed into sweet sugar surrender, but...there's been the occasional salt/fat chip indulgence in the middle of the night.

My indulgence in movies and shows has increased a bit. An extra episode at the end of the day...maybe two, on insomniacal nights.

My strongest escapist response has been the hunting behavior that came to life when retail stores re-opened. I've spent a few hundred dollars chasing CDs.

Am i sliding into depression? It's hard to say...my fuzzy-headed inertia would certainly be a by-product of insomnia, but it's probably foolish to think that's the whole reason (or that insomnia and depression can be separated cleanly).

I need to get some genuine humyn contact, some love and physical intimacy, into my bubble. If i can't, i'm flirting with significant health degradation. Ghost headaches, a sickened response to stress...these are my occasional companions already.

Calling the universe...

Calling the universe...

Help?

And the crickets chirp...

head-in collisions

Desensitized sandhead savants roaming 'round

never quite sure just what they've found

Breeding and greeding, a world to smother

Stumbling onto this, that, and the other

Fingers making alchemistic miracles

Hornswoggling, mind-boggling engineeracles

Never seeing the storms that gather

On they bluster, on they blather

Never seeing the ground giving way

Pausing only to fuck or pray

Oblivious to the burning ocean

Brandishing deodorizing lotion

Those few who ungum their eyes

succumb to insanity with suicidal cries

"Jingle Bells"

 A YouTube song collage my friend veronica put together...i've never met most of these musicians, yet we recorded a song "together". My original contribution was something i called "Single-Cell Paramecium", but she told me that was "too silly", so i re-recorded something closer to the conventional version (which wasn't easy, as i wasn't fond of the casual enslavement of horses in the original). Fortunately, they used the verse i re-wrote which removed all that. The final result is perhaps too long (a more crackerjack edit might be half that length), but there is honest charm in the clumsier parts. Peace on Earth, and goodwill to all...creatures.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcUZG7JQXTE&feature=youtu.be&fbclid=IwAR0bzAQ6Ox6ORjITejc0jqyE5xbCvBlcfeT69-e355DM6EoQVnUIpPXgguE

love hurricane

We spend our lives soaring
Protected above the clouds
Dreaming of mindless merriment
in unconditional crowds
Craving connection and comfort
Those casualties of current climes
Disconnected from others and ourselves
in these post-agricultural times
And then we see LOVE!
A dream far below
We speed earthward to rest
from this celestial blow
We fall into some patch of calm
and are gobsmacked by beauty!
Nobler notions engulf us
Devotion, sacrifice, duty
But just when we drop our guard
the storm hurls us up to the sky
Finally we see that modern love
exists only in a hurricane eye
We have to keep running, keep dancing
Knowing joy, but never ever peace
Modern love is a moving target
and its chase can never cease

OkCupid Leftovers 2

And.....after half a pandemic year on OKC, i've met exactly NO one. I've had maybe fifteen chat partners, and one non-sparking video chat. This activity void is partly because i get so little attention (i had one week where i got multiple new chat partners, but many more weeks when i got none). Partly it's because, counter-intuitively (given my desperate loneliness), i'm still picky. I rejected one poly offer and one charming offer of ongoing no-strings sex, in both cases because i was worried that my emotional needs wouldn't be met.

I also expanded my search parameters beyond monogamy, risking instant censure by mannnny wimyn. I answer profiles i know i shouldn't, just because i'm so alone it hurts. I try to convince myself that my intuition is fallible, so i cast a wider net (a dating strategy that's brought disastrous results in the past). I find my willpower assailed, the more these months drag on...answering profiles from drinkers or single moms or the questionably-intelligent...

And i continue to edit and evolve my profile (see updates below)! The one rant i've resisted is over the ungodly number who dance around the question "Most Private Thing I'm Willing to Admit". Any OKC member can just skip that question, yet so many wimyn go out of their way to answer by refusal-to-answer. Blunt answers, cute answers, insipid answers...SKIP the question, fine, but why DECLAIM your inability to answer? Like neurotic tweakers with Tourette's.

The one thing that amazes me a bit is that no one has told me how funny or fascinating they find my profile. Even those who have written, have barely given evidence they've read my words at all. Whatever else my profile may be...it's not boring. Opinionated, funny, perhaps elegant, possibly brilliant...but not boring.

MY SELF-SUMMARY

Love without fear or negotiation...anybody? Wildflower trying to fix the world. Ukulele blues comedian, pacifist, nudist, goddess-worshipping atheist. Part leader, part loner, part-time nerd. I cry...not often enough. Massage/cuddle-bug. I don't believe in jealousy (though i'll do monogamy). Clubs, bars, and dress codes suck, bonfire drums rule! My response to a world of poverty and oppression is to live as freely as possible, possessing only what i need. How deep can you go? How effortless do you need? No expectations, no limits. Merriment is paramount - irony, gallows, pillow fights. To cry, or laugh 'til you pee, go to the YouTube channel "wrob's naked meadow" (covid caveat: i haven't felt humyn touch since March...off-balance and raw...a pavlovian wreck).

MY STYLE CAN BE DESCRIBED AS

Nonexistent? Calamitous? Subsumed by substance? Fannypacktastic? I can be the most colorful person in the room, or disappear in plain sight so others might shine.

I VALUE

Radical forgiveness, honesty, and self-acceptance.

THE MOST PRIVATE THING I'M WILLING TO ADMIT

Secrets? Never. How about mild depression from lowering my emotional walls too far, and carrying the weight of the world? Small talk makes me shrivel. If you coax me to a party, i usually end up with the kids, pets, or climbing a tree. Sexual profile - slow penetrations of an hour or more. DDF, non-kinky (if you must be spanked, i'll learn to love it...oh WOW, will i learn to love it - i'm very giving like that).

WHAT I'M ACTUALLY LOOKING FOR

Someone who laughs at themself. No co-dependence. Low-maintenance! No makeup, heels, or shaving? Yes please. Automatic baby privileges for anyone with a higher cumulative IQ/EQ...or real afro.

THE MOST EXCITING PLACE I'VE EVER BEEN

China - but why do so many SF-OKC wimyn identify travel as one of the most essential things about them? Unending photos abroad...the insidious aroma of entitlement? Yes, travel can be stunning and transformative. But in a world of obscene poverty, to proudly advertise having more than you need, feels a bit soulless. Show your spirit, not your passport.

ARTISTS I'D PUT ON MY PLAYLIST

Miles, cassandra wilson, jaco, joni, ani...hey, you're still here! If you don't fill empty spaces with words you'll love me. Polyamory note - i never have, and maybe never will. Philosophically, i agree...jealous possessiveness destabilizes personal bonds and poisons the Earth (if you don't see the parallels between monogamy and capitalism, you're not paying attention). In practice, i may never find a polyamorous situation that meets my needs for deepest emotional connection, but...poly wimyn are on average six IQ points smarter than their monogamous sisters, and i'm too sapiosexual to cut myself off from that (okay, i made that stat up, but does anyone doubt it's true?).

"The Stranger in the Woods"

 (The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit)

-by michael finkel

2017

Be prepared to not believe.

Then be prepared to not be able to stop reading.

In 1986, twenty year-old chris knight drove his car through central Maine past the point of no return, then walked into the woods...and didn't come out for twenty-seven years. By "come out", i mean dragged out by the authorities who finally found him after more than a thousand petty larcenies. He would emerge from the woods in the dead of night, to burgle books, batteries, and food from empty vacation homes.

In all those years, he had but one accidental conversation with another person, a two-word exchange with an unknowing hiker.

He survived all those Maine winters without a fire for heat...coming close to death from freezing or starvation numerous times.

He wasn't writing a best-seller. He left a job and functioning childhood family behind, without a word. He intended to live in his hermit's camp, until he died.

The story of chris knight may upend your beliefs about modern society, companionship, and sanity. It may shake you to your core, with both horror AND envy.

Much of the credit for that goes to finkel, whose narrative is little short of perfect. After chris's capture, michael was the only journalist he allowed in his presence. The depth of research is breathtaking, from interviews to analyses of the history and psychology of "solitaries". The hermits of America actually have a dues-paying organization (with website)...and i'm sure chris would have just as much disregard for them as he does for relative dilettantes such as thoreau. When America became fascinated with the chris mccandless saga, knight had already lived utterly alone for a decade...and would continue so for almost two more.

As the story unfolds, HOW and WHY will clang inside your head...though perhaps not everyone will feel resonances of themself in knight's story. And that's just one more facet of the modern humyn tragedy.

CEO

(a redirection of john lennon's "How Do You Sleep?")

Your capitalism so predatory

So now our babies live in poverty
Polluted skies and poisoned riverbeds
Pretty soon the oceans all be dead
CEO, how do you sleep?
CEO, how do you sleep at night?

Your underlings always kiss your ass
They'll knife you fast for a ring of brass
For sweat shops and sex rings you pave the way
But in your mansion it's just another day
CEO, how do you sleep?
CEO, how do you sleep at night?

You spread your crumbs with a charity or two 
But the world is wise to the crap you do
You're fading fast from history

One more crime against humanity

CEO, how do you sleep?
CEO, how do you sleep at night?

barbaria

Water is acid
The Earth ain't flat
Glass is liquid
and that is that

There ain't nine planets
and Russia wasn't commie
Who's your REAL dad?
Go ask mommy

You have no clue
what people think of you
Your knowledge of life
further still from true
Your greatest ignorance by far
(and where worldly discontent breeds)
is seeing WHO you are
and heeding your own needs

3 billion

Three billion years past we surpassed the muck muck muck

My ancestor said to yours "We need to fuck fuck fuck"

bagpipe

Of this mindfucking morass
never again will i gripe
if i but locate a lass
who cums like a wounded bagpipe

whiff

Universally interpersonally void of clue
Insecure neuroses sabotage me and you
Of rhyme there's naught in aught we do
Our reasons well-seasoned with the whiff of poo

MST3K!

(Compiling a best-of for MST is like seeking a sailing squirrel in a stupendously subjective sea. The one quantifiable criterion to which i tried to adhere is quality of riffing...but it's so easy to get lost in how agonizingly unwatchable, or wretchedly charming, the source film is.)

MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000's GREATEST EPISODES
-WEREWOLF
Arizona archaeologists uncover mysterious skeletal remains...and soon lycanthropes are everywhere! Starring joe estevez and richard lynch. Serial burst-out-loud chuckles are capped by an end-credits music riff that sparks the longest sustained MST-laughter ever.
-RED ZONE CUBA
Mike and the bots are treated to coleman francis' magnum opus, about three drifters who bounce from prison barrack to prison barrack, invading a sovereign nation along the way. A john carradine cameo starts things off with a whimper! Seamless mirth-making (especially of note in the host segments). The badness of RZC is not life-sucking, as you'd be laughing and riffing along, even without prompting. I have an oily cuba zone.
-THIS ISLAND EARTH
Tell the truth...did anyone expect this to stand with MST's best? With no joel, the crew find themselves on unfamiliar ground (onscreen and off), as they try to transplant a seat-of-your-pants cable show into big budget Hollywood. But this 50s sci-fi semi-classic (with russell johnson and bug-eyed, big-brained aliens) is too juicy a target to fail. Ruth!
-HORROR AT PARTY BEACH
On the strength of riffing alone this might only merit honorable mention, but the source material is so bizarrely bad that it's worth watching on its own. This film tries to be a million things: teen beach flick, atomic mutant frightfest, biker film, foster brooks comedy. It utterly fails at all, yet the sum is so much greater (or worse) than the parts. Look Polish?
-CAVE DWELLERS
Just beautifully wretched. The producers commit to a nonsensical, awful concept, and run run run! The mind-numbing flashback exposition is the cinematic equivalent of LSD. But the riffing remains light and loaded. How much o'keefe is in this movie? So many miles.
-MANOS: THE HANDS OF FATE
I resisted the hype, but eventually had to agree - the product is bizarro, beyond-the-pale bad, and the riffing above average (even though they commit the offense of making the badness of the movie an in-joke, destabilizing the conceit that they hadn't seen it before). It's hard to appreciate just how awful this film is, if your first experience is the cuddly MST treatment. It's a true cinematic unicorn, a film so appallingly, stunningly strange that you would make your friends watch it, just to see their faces.

MITCHELL

The riffing (like MANOS) dives from great to listless, but mitchell's romancing is just not-to-be-believed, and the saucy skateboarder may be the most hysterically bad moment of cinema ever. Joe don baker is the abe vigoda of joe don bakers (no, i don't know what that means, but it's true).

AGENT FOR H.A.R.M.

Bond wannabe peter mark richman is off to the tricycle races. Ever imagine mr. rogers as a smarmy ass-kicker? Drive!
-SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL
This one makes the cut despite zero charm or weirdness in the source film, a relentlessly formulaic TV movie...yet the riffing falls into a relaxed, laugh-out-loud groove, and never strays.

-I ACCUSE MY PARENTS
The standard against which all riffing is measured? A too-stupid-to-live youth from an alcoholically dysfunctional home progresses from essay contest winner to shoe salesperson to unwitting bag man. He wins the womyn but must go on the lam, where he finds sanctuary with a bible-beating chef. Plus...show tunes! Are joel and the bots happy in their work? It's difficult.

SHORTS
-THE  HOME ECONOMICS STORY, JOHNNY AT THE FAIR, THE TRUCK FARMER, CHEATING, ARE YOU READY FOR MARRIAGE?

HONORABLE MENTION
-SANTA CLAUS, SANTA CLAUS CONQUERS THE MARTIANS (MST and Cinematic Titanic), MOON ZERO TWO, THE ATOMIC BRAIN, 12 TO THE MOON, ROCKET ATTACK USA, THE WILD WORLD OF BATWOMAN (jaw-dropping, irresistible badness), GIRLS TOWN, IT CONQUERED THE WORLD (greatest awful movie ending ever), THE SHE-CREATURE, SPACE MUTINY, FINAL JUSTICE, STARCRASH (Cinematic Titanic's poke at the most riffable sci fi ever?)

GREATEST POST-CREDITS BUTTON: RADAR SECRET SERVICE

Never Take an Old Man

(irish folk song, with new lyrics)

An old man come courting me, fa la la loodle

An old man come courting me, highderry down
An old man come courting me, said he would care for me
Oh maids when you're young never take an old man

For he has no faloodle fa la la la loodle
He has no faloodle, a diddle a one
He has no faloodle, he's lost his ding-doodle
So maids when you're young never take an old man

We went to the park, fa la la loodle
He said he felt woody, highderry down
He took me behind a tree, there was no wood to see
So maids when you're young never take an old man

Then when we went to bed, fa la la loodle
Then when we went to bed, highderry down
Then when we went to bed, the old thing it lay there dead
Oh maids when you're young never take an old man

So I threw me leg over him, fa la la loodle
I threw me leg over him, highderry down
I threw me leg over him, he said i would smother him
Oh maids when you're young never take an old man

When he went fast asleep, fa la la loodle
When he went fast asleep, highderry down
When he went fast asleep, out of bed i did creep
into the arms of a foolish young man

And i found his faloodle, fa la la la loodle
I found his faloodle, oh highderry down
His fa la la loodle was a quick-shot ding-doodle
So maids of any age, who the hell needs a man

"Who's Naked?"

Proposal: One-Hour Television Drama

This anthology series will have a different story and characters each episode. The writing will be sharp, intelligent, and relevant to real issues of modern life, with far-ranging settings and locales. The vibe will range from feel-good to hard-hitting, grit to comedy, and anything in between.

At some random point during each episode, in the course of normal activity, one character will disrobe, and do the rest of the episode naked. No character will notice or react, and the nudity will be entirely irrelevant to how the story arc resolves. No clues will tip which character will unclothe, and that character will fall anywhere on the humyn spectrum - old, young, striking, nondescript, fit, obese, ugly, beautiful...

The point is to underscore the ridiculousness of nudity taboos. The hope is that it will become "must-see" television, with audiences obsessively predicting which character will disrobe.

The cast may be a rotating ensemble of recurring actors. Or not.

The show will eventually have fun with its own format (i.e. an episode set in a nudist colony, where one character suddenly "robes"). As the show progresses, it may expand to include period episodes.

Thank you for your consideration.

wrob's naked tales

 Announcing the launch of my second YouTube channel - "wrob's naked tales", devoted to stories, essays, and poems.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCtAJoE76SR5KkbZGNgW8HAA

pre-existential angst

Don't screw it up, mom
Or we'll never be born!
Don't blow this one, dad
Ain't she sexier than porn?
Don't fuck it up, ma
Don't overanalyze!
Don't bungle this, pa
Keep your eyes 'tween the thighs!
Don't goof it up, mums
Your divinest dicking yet!
Don't drop this one, pops
You're so stiff! She's so wet!
Don't muck it up, mere!
He's not afraid of your worst
Don't dare err, sweet pere!
She's ripe and ready to burst
Don't muff it, mi madre
Cryings, crappings, 4AM feedings
Don't pass by, mi padre
You deserve SO many breedings!
Don't hash it, mummy
A tummy with NO baby?
Don't bumble this, daddy!
We'll give you a tit...maybe
Don't mess it up, 'rents
This ain't about YOU!
Don't flub this one!
We've got our own fucking to do!
Don't botch this, 'rents!!
We're so pukingly adorable
Don't screw it up!!!
This waiting is deplorable...

lucky lou in left

Lucky lou lonaghan was the worst fielder ever
and that was his saving grace
He was so wretched fans came in droves
In the lineup he always had a place
He played for the Beanville Bats, where Bat fans wore lucky lou hats
(that's not bats as in balls and bats but bats as in flyin' rats)
Beanville had a center fielder though, the greatest of 'em all
Screamin' sue biobaku had rocket feet and could leap any wall!
They couldn't put lou in right, that was the home of big tater
Big tater yang had a shotgun arm, but was slower than a busted elevator
He swung big lumber at the plate, then lumbered to the field alas
How that home crowd cringed when tater took to the grass
Together the most entertaining outfield humyn eye had ever seen
It was snack time when Beanville was up, but magic time when they hit the green
At the plate lou played with savvy and skill, but for a swell bunt nobody swoons
No, it was lou's larks in the field that turned quiet folk to howling loons
Every single play a disaster waiting
Batters who hit his way started celebrating
Sue covered more field than a retractable dome
But too far from tater she never could roam
A shallow pop to lou made a batter sing
It was like lou's glove had some hidden spring
Line drives would leave lou lying on his belly
Was his glove slick-coated with petroleum jelly?
But mostly, what made folks hide their eyes was when lou looked up at lofty pop flies
He would circle and circle and circle, seeking some perfect spot to tread
When at last that sphere returned to Earth it would land right on lou's head
Finally lou threw his glove in the trash, without any remorse or regret
After that he just grabbed his hat and waved it like a butterfly net!
He'd catch a few too, maybe one of every four!
(a higher percentage than he'd fielded before)
And for those pop-ups, he finally got wise and took his batting helmet to the field
He'd stand under those descending balls, on his pate a polypropylene shield
If a ball knocked his noggin it would bounce back in the air
Then he'd brandish his cap, that intrusive missile to snare
Why, lou became so good at the angles he could bounce most flies to sue
(give sue an extra few seconds and she always knew just what to do)
Whenever the Bats were ahead, into the stands lou might bounce a ball
He was kindhearted like that, and knew it meant more fun for all
So how did lou get the nickname lucky?
A scattershot of scornful irony?
No no, it was a happy reminder
of the greatest play the world ever did see
One day lou was circling, circling, trying to spy a pop fly overhead
He suddenly tripped over his own feet and went down like falling into bed
As he lay there stunned the ball went "SPLUNK"
As usual, avoiding the ground
But this time it didn't find his head
It landed square on his buttock mound
In later years the media he'd tease
saying he gave his cheeks a quick squeeze
Maybe that's true, or maybe not
but that ball stayed glued right to that spot
The batter was out, lou had saved the day!
Shoulder-high, his team carried him away
And today, the only thing lou fields are queries
He's happy to, for with that catch the Bats won the Series

dedicated to (insert name here)

Such shining commonality!
I know you are SHE
My life's dream lover
come to rescue me
(ahhhh bullshit, that's a half-year without sex talking)

Your walls so porous
How does it feel to comprehend
you can fuck more nakedly
than your less-damaged friends?
(How thick shall i set it? Are you wet...yet?)

Your eyes! How they flash!
Your mind puts others to shame!
Every detail burned in my memory
I'm sorry...what was your name?
(DEPRESSIVE LUDDITES MAKE UNPLANNED BABY
WHO CARES WORLD FUCKED ANYWAY
FILM AT ELEVEN)

or both...

Pacifist being! (more sensitive or seeing)
Vegan declaring! (more knowing or caring)
Atheistical! (analytical unhypocritical)
Non-patriotic flair! (too fair, too aware)
Communist slant! (conscientious cognizant)
Non-drinking! (messianic unblinking)
Alone agonized! (uncalculating uncompromised)

hensonathon!

In my lifetime, only once have i been deeply moved by the death of someone i'd not met.

Jim henson.

In another year, i'll be the age he was when he died. Perhaps i'll commemorate the observance with a pilgrimage to...well, is there some perfect henson landmark? His creature shop is in England, but that feels like a corporate cringefest waiting to happen.

How about a tribute, by way of ultimate hensonathon!

-The Muppet Show (rita moreno)

-The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson (kermit, guest host)

-The Muppet Show (milton berle)

-THE MUPPET MOVIE

-The Muppet Show (marisa berenson)

-LABYRINTH

-The Muppet Show (liberace)

Did i miss any gems? The greatest ernie & bert moment ever? Maybe Fraggle finally produced something worthy in its later seasons? Some obscure TV special? Write in!

your beauty

Forgive my gaze
I see your hidden fears
Your beauty makes me hurt
and mourn this world of tears
I know you see the games
Only survival, no victory
But follow my heart
to transcend insanity!
The rules i'll reject
Negotiation i'll neglect
Unconditionality resurrect
to love and set you free

devour

Don't trust this poetic slate
Words manipulate
Don't countenance my kindness
It begs your blindness
Let me in, let me devour
I'll deify your flower
Hour after hour
Traverse my tower
Encircle my power
Flowering, devouring, then...
showering

"The Jim Henson Hour"

 -created by jim henson

1989-1992

Did you ever have some creation by one of your favorites creators that you missed seeing/hearing for years or decades, so that eventually the anticipation of it became towering in your mind as some sort of lost gem of a genius?

That was this show for me. Jim's return to TV after the success of The Muppet Show. When i finally saw it...WOW, just...

Awful. A trainwreck.

Don't let the semi-long-looking run fool you. It was cancelled in its first year - and deservedly so.

On the surface, it sounds wonderful. Jim starts and ends each show, talking to the audience. Some of the Muppets are back, plus guest stars, plus the Storyteller fairy tale collection, plus other shorts from the henson workshop...but none of it ever gels beyond "forced". Apparently jim had fights with the studio, and was never given the freedom to make it what he wanted. There are similarities to its predecessor - backstage at Muppet Studios, kermit oversees a variety show. But most of the characters are new, and none of them pop. It's basically kermit and gonzo with a little link and a lot of who-the-hell-are-you?

Perhaps the absence of frank oz was the show's death blow. He makes cameos as fozzy and piggy, but...was he off being yoda? His absence is heart-rending.

There are bright moments...piggy's duet with dudley moore, and the short film "Living with Dinosaurs", which captures the awkwardness and cruelty of childhood with heart and humor...

But overall, watch this only if you're a devoted fan who is comfortable with disappointment.

wrob's practical suggestions for saving the world

Unemployment...the official rate is almost certainly a politically-contrived lie. Is it 20%? 30%? We treat this statistic as a negative, proportional to how high it goes, but i don't see it that way. The more unemployment, the more people not stuck in soul-sucking, criminally non-paying "vocations" that are an assault on humyn health and dignity.

But i'm not immune to the argument that work gives life meaning. So here's how to solve unemployment overnight, and make the lives of the already-employed immeasurably better as well. Cut the weekly hours of everyone working instantly in half, without changing any aspect of their pay or benefits. The unemployed can instantly fill the missing productivity hours, at the same pay rate the original worker was making.

You'll make every worker in America more efficient, energized, and productive, and create a glut of new, desirable jobs the likes of which have never been seen.

And the "american dream" will move closer to not being the howling lie it's always been.

"When God was a Woman"

 -by merlin stone

1976

Historian stone looks at the archaeological/textual evidence for the argument that 3000-2000 years ago, invading indo-european patriarchal religions conquered matriarchal religions. Early judaism and christianity existed side by side with goddess religions, and were instrumental in erasing them. Stone contends that the matriarchal religions were more peaceful, sex-positive, and literate - a claim that may only be a projection of feminist wishful thinking...but no one can argue that patriarchal religions aren't hotbeds of violence, womyn-hating, and sex-shaming, and it's disturbing to see how deeply biblical scripture is both an overt and veiled degradation of half the humyn race. Were these earlier religions truly matriarchal, or just matrilineal/matrifocal? In any event, it's fascinating to see how patriarchy co-opted and re-wrote the myths of these earlier religions.

porn

 I've been watching porn.

By porn, i mean the traditional semi-pejorative definition, low-budget movies poorly (or barely) written, created to show bounteous nudity and real fucking.

I've actually seen very little porn in my life, before this. Oh, i adore a little soft-core, NC-17 action, but the literary snob in me always turned up my nose at traditional porn, plus i never much fancied watching others do what i wanted to be doing. If i'm seeking masturbation fodder, some still images artfully done, or the waterfall scene from "Beastmaster", suits me fine.

I'd only ever seen one full-length porn before, as a teenager. It seemed obvious and crass. Plus one anime tentacle film once, which i thought was actually kind of cute.

But last month, i found myself with access to a free porn channel, and i thought i'd see what the fuss was about.

It was pretty much as expected. Dreary, under-written, and badly-acted.

With one unexpected redeeming quality.

It was soooooo non-neurotic. Blessedly, blissfully non-neurotic. There was no angst, no hand-wringing, no "Oh i can't, oh i must, oh i won't, oh i must..." Just humyn beings getting turned on and fucking. Not until you see sex from this perspective, do you appreciated just how neurotic ALL cinematic depictions of sexuality are. In every mainstream movie ever, from NC-17 all the way to G, any time sex or romance are portrayed or invoked, there's inevitably a tinge (or tonnage) of neurotic oppressiveness that accompanies it.

You can't appreciate how pernicious and unhappy all that weight is, until you see something completely free of it.

Of course, my literary tastes prevent me from dwelling overlong in the land of "porn"...but it all makes me long for the obvious hybrid cinematic sub-genre: porn with real acting and real writing. How can there not have been a studio or three devoted to this? ARE there? How can there not be??

Hollywood sucks, and porn sucks.

I want something sexy and non-neurotic that doesn't suck!

Is that so much to ask?

erosneous

Head, hormones, heart, love, lust, like

We weave a dance, a hypno-trance

Stretching each lover across this graph

It's very funny, why don't we laugh?

"Orange is the New Black"

 2013-2019

-created by jenji kohan

If you don't mind well-intended, semi-idiotic escapism, this might charm you. Great performances and competent writing are the hallmarks of this drama about life in womyn's prison. There are also positive marks for gay/trans portrayals, plus a somewhat nuanced take on the "me too" era. On the down side, it's an insultingly facile portrayal of the mindfucking horror that is prison life. It's barely more than a Hallmark card, in that regard. Any prison show that doesn't make you want to scream out of the house to tear down all prisons forever, has wasted its opportunity. Plus, it lasted too long...the sexy factor largely disappears in the final seasons, and without that its weaknesses are more exposed.

great balsa fire

I scan your attire
I peer into your eyes
to see what sustains you
The answer terrifies

"Star Trek: Lower Decks" (& PRODIGY)

Imagine "Sub Rosa" performed by the cast of "Up With People", hellbent on proving that a G rating can be sexy.

And PRODIGY is possibly worse. TREK made a morning animated show in the 70s that didn't talk down to its audience, but apparently we've lost that ability.

The Muppet Show, season 5

ROGER MOORE ***

Low-rent spies want to take out the guest (not in the nice way). Roger's urbane "Talk to the Animals" delivers humor and heart.

JAMES COBURN ***

Very, very good. James bonds with animal, and tries to teach him meditation.

BROOKE SHIELDS ****

Brooke walks into an episode-long telling of "Alice in Wonderland". The delight is non-stop and finishes, naturally, with "Off to See the Wizard".

TONY RANDALL **

I wanted to believe that anything with tony is good! But the inspiration just doesn't spark. Perhaps i'm cranky because piggy gets turned to stone...with no sign of ELO.

PAUL SIMON ****

The most idiot-proof episode ever. All devoted to paul's songs - even though you might make one or two different selections, it's still...perfect.

JOAN BAEZ **

Floyd does a delightful "Blackbird", and there's also a charming "Man Smart (Critters Smarter)"...which culminates in eco-terrorism (a remarkably brave choice for a show that courts a young audience).

LINDA RONSTADT ***

Perhaps the least clever Muppet episode ever...and that's a good thing. They sagaciously let linda do four songs uninterrupted. "I'm So Happy" is also a highlight.

GLENDA JACKSON ****

Glenda slips into pirate mode, and commandeers the theater-ship. This little nugget feels more like a full-blown movie than any other episode. The only four-star entry without a defining moment of brilliance (though gonzo's "Workin' at the Car Wash Blues" comes close).

LORETTA SWIT ***

Kermit fires piggy, loretta replaces her, and he's more genuinely abusive than you've ever seen him. This cruel body-shaming would never fly today.

HAL LINDEN ***

The affable, elegant hal lends his musical comedy chops as statler and waldorf take over. Hal and robin break hearts with "If We Ruled the World", plus a classic "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da".

JEAN-PIERRE RAMPAL ***

Merry Muppet mirth. Renowned flutist turns the pied piper into "Ease On Down the Road".

CAROL BURNETT ***

Carol's appearance is interrupted by an episode-long dance marathon. Her highlight is "But Not For Me", as the charwomyn.

JOHNNY CASH ***

"Dirty Old Egg-Sucking Dog", "Goodnight Sardine", "Jackson"...this one will slap a big Muppet grin on your face.

MELISSA MANCHESTER ***

Tumblin' tumbleweeds...on top of an alpine mountain

SENOR WENCES ***

Charming, as the Muppets celebrate...puppets! Veterinarian's Hospital will leave you in stitches.

DEBBIE HARRY ***

Some people, i'm not saying me, might be moved to tears by debbie's "Rainbow Connection" with kermit. Okay, me.

GENE KELLY **

Nice, but...

GLADYS KNIGHT ****

As the theater roof is taken away for repairs, not even the wrong billie holiday song can keep this one from four stars. Gladys is wonderful, and the show rises to the occasion. "Friendship Train" is particularly perfect.

WALLY BOAG ***

A thirty-year performer at Disneyworld, wally centerpieces a salute to vaudeville...and his bagpipe act makes you forgive his resume. Plus the funniest Muppet moment ever, as chef, animal, and beaker presage tonto, tarzan, and frankenstein, with their transcendent rendering of "Danny Boy".

BUDDY RICH ***

Yes folks, the drum battle for the ages! Will animal eat buddy?

MARTY FELDMAN ***

A warped wandering through the Arabian Nights, climaxed by the appearance of the Sesame Street Muppets. Marty goes eye-to-eye with cookie monster!

CHRIS LANGHAM ***

Muppet magic firing on all cylinders. Chris who? Not bad at all...plus kermit and robin palling around with whales hunting from whalers...

MAC DAVIS ***

Anticipating 3D copiers by forty years, scores of beakers are unleashed!

SHIRLEY BASSEY ***

Lovely. Guess who plays goldfinger? A bit anti-climactic for the last Muppet Show ever? Ah well, play on, play on...

"A Short History of Nearly Everything"

 -by bill bryson

2003

Bill tackles the entire history of advanced humyn scientific thought, audaciously attempting to encapsulate it all in a single volume. If you ever have a friend who loses their sight for a week or two, and needs the best distraction imaginable, you'll never find a more perfect book to read them, than this one here.

phlegmatic

A naked monkey upright walks
Mother nature a lugie hocks

a void dance

People avoid me, tragic but true
People avoid me, how about you?
The tragedy they fail to see
How much better they'd be with me
Legendary lovers go unlaid
Selfless souls get the blade
Genius gurus, no attention paid
That is how the game is played

central casting

If you want a stud
from central casting
walk right by
I ain't your guy

If you want prince charming
Suave and disarming
Don't look at me
I sure ain't he

If you want a copy
A prefab poppy
Bossing and blowing
Keep on going

If you want a lover
who's like no other
If that doesn't cause you fear
If science and sensibility are your "sign"
If you don't come pre-defined
Then open your eyes, i'm here

beast man

You make the beast in me rise
Longing to consume and control
Burning to brand your body
Yearning to hold your soul

I've learned how to keep him at bay
but we're all so broken and needy
In life i'm solicitous, so non-duplicitous
but your shining eyes make him greedy

He plots your endorphin overdose
so you'll care evermore for ME
He longs for you at long last to live
your life's crowning carnality

Ten times, a hundred times
A thousand times, more
Swim in my healing harbor
Pull yourself onto my shore

weed

This story begins some
forty thousand years ago
A timely, tragic tale
of wonderment and woe

Excavating the extinction trail
of the bones found in rocks
shows global warming's just the nail
sealing up life's death box

We started hunting
The megafauna soon gone
No more saber-tooth, moa
or mammoth mastadon

Whales, gorillas, rhinos
did their best to hold on
Pachyderms and hippos
going, going, gone

We are the weed
See how we breed
Slash and burn greed
Apocalypse seed

Tromping boots trail stowaways
to each corner of the globe
Behold bat and frog genocides
from an invasive microbe

And what about the death
of all the world's coral?
Take peek in the mirror
if you would seek a moral

But will the plants survive?
It's not just the truffula tree
Shall simmering segmentation
sever all the green we see?

...except for one weed
Apocalypse seed
Feel how we breed
slash and burn greed

Where then the terminus
of this treachery and travail?
Will rats or ruminococcus
be the only ones to prevail?
Is it too late to extricate
our hands from the third rail?
Or will a tailless primate
be the end of life's tale?

beaker boy

Funniest...muppet...moment...ever.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULB_QisXSbs

The Muppet Show, season 4

JOHN DENVER **
I was primed to love this one, as their later collaborations are superlative. But it falls a bit flat, thanks largely to the cognitive disconnect between a humyn having a love-in with other animals, despite continued happy references to the brutally exploitative nature of our relationship with said animals. The highlight is a battlefield rendition of "Why Can't We Be Friends".
LINDA LAVIN ***
Kermit's birthday surprise celebration, with a soaringly-poignant "It Was a Very Good Year", by waldorf and statler.
SHIELDS AND YARNELL ****
The least-anticipated episode of the season, and maybe the best. The guests are enchanting, and the Muppet magic sprinkled just right. Plus birds on electric wires dancing to Abba, and king kong crooning randy newman's "Lonely at the Top".
CRYSTAL GAYLE **
A desultory episode that sparks up with Pigs in Space, a rowlf lounge song, "Sixty Seconds Got Together", some classic beaker & honeydew, and an enchanting (albeit insipid) "We Must Believe in Magic".
KENNY ROGERS ***
Most flawed four-star ever...or juiciest three? Kermit gets continuingly clobbered, but the show goes on, with "The Gambler", nillsson's "Coconut", and a brilliant veterinary hospital. But for religious-referencing, life-after-death dignifying, and possible racial stereotyping...
DUDLEY MOORE ***
A delightful outing, highlighted by a scene between animal and dudley. Animal's behavior is more deliberate and subtle than usual, which is startlingly (almost disturbingly) effective.
ARLO GUTHRIE **
Arlo's brilliance is superfluous, as he performs none of his own songs. The result feels flat, almost white-washed. A sweet version of "Sailing Down this Golden River", and a lovely swedish chef subplot that fixes the cognitive disconnect of other episodes' carnivorousness (they even toss in a vegetarian joke for good measure), but...a missed opportunity.
VICTOR BORGE ****
Was any performer ever more destined to play tchaikovsky with a Muppet kazoo orchestra? The supporting numbers ("Macho Man" and "Act Naturally") put this one over the top.
BEVERLY SILLS ***
It flirts with flaccid, but chases charming. Statler and waldorf do song & dance, while fozzie heckles. This is a great one to take yourself out of the illusion, and ponder the technical wonders.
LIZA MINELLI ***
The entire episode becomes a whodunnit, as murders plague liza o'shaugnessy's Broadway show. The highlight is "Copacabana".
LOLA FALANA ***
As gonzo heads off to Bollywood, things haven't been this steamy since chita rivera -  in "He's the Greatest Dancer", lola makes you feel funny, in the non-comedic way. Gonzo's "My Way" would have been four-star if they'd let him finish.
PHYLLIS GEORGE **
A little sweet, a little flat.
DYAN CANNON ***
Yummy Muppet goodness...they even make a crooner out of dyan. The highlight is Geri and the Atrics' "Hound Dog", channeling the 2020 Rolling Stones.
CHRISTOPHER REEVE ***
A delight through and through. Chris doesn't shy from superman jokes, but might startle you with his musical and comedy chops. He hamlets with a talking skull, puts rowlf on the table for Veterinarian's Hospital...
LYNDA CARTER ****
Irrepressible muppet joy. Lynda shines as a song and dance delight, while everyone else turns into superheroes. Janice gets a lead vocal as a humyn sacrifice in "A Little Help From My Friends", floyd takes a lead on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps"...
MARK HAMILL ****
They turn a mindless megahit into sweet self-parody. Mark plays himself and skywalker, joined by Star Wars supporting actors (plus gonzo as vader, and piggy as the princess). In all the silliness, don't miss mark's genuine talent. The writing is superlative, the mayhem sensational...plus scooter giving a heartfelt version of harry chapin's "Six String Orchestra". Why did they never get chapin as guest??
DIZZIE GILLESPIE ***
A jazzy jambalaya, and waldorf's wife looks an awful lot like statler...
ANNE MURRAY ***
One of the more unassumingly sweet entries, highlighted by Beach Boy pigs on motorcycles and a charming Mayhem rendition of "Walk Right Back", fronted by anne.
JONATHAN WINTERS ***
Art mirrors life, as a "gypsy curse" (romani!) causes mayhem, but the episode seems genuinely cursed, as it fails to spark, even with an incandescent guest...until the ending, when the curse makes everyone speak swedish-chefese. Brilliant.
ANDY WILLIAMS ***
Smooth sailing, with a wonderful "Green Door" by fozzie, a brilliantly awful veterinarian's hospital, and a medley with andy that ranks with kermit's all-time classics.
DOUG HENNING **
Illuuuuusion. In all fairness, his finale is pretty great.
CAROL CHANNING **
Veterinarian's Hospital invades Pigs in Space!
DIANA ROSS ***
The most transcendent moment in the history of beakerdom, as he sings "Feelings" with the Electric Mayhem.
ALAN ARKIN ***
A dandy, with the devil and a jekyll/hyde formula making hay. Highlights are "The Devil Went Down to Georgia", and alan singing his own "Pig Shuffle".

baggage

The lonely lover trudges through time
with deserts to cross, mountains to climb
Dragging behind, we look around to find
a boulder of baggage, a glaciation of expectation
We brave on bearing these burdens around
Our spirits lashed, our longings earthbound
Aggrieved and abused, with padlock fused
Finally you spy another lover nearby
Eager yet wary, concordant yet contrary
Chained to their ankle you spy a conglomeration
A boulder of baggage, a glaciation of expectation!
Now - love each other, if you dare!
But never ever say i didn't beware...

fuck

How would you fuck
if you'd never heard of disease or babies?
You'd fuck without conditionals
You'd fuck without maybes
How would you fuck
if you'd never heard of poverty or divorce?
You'd fuck with mindless joy
as a simple matter of course
How would you fuck
if you'd never heard of jealousy or rape crime?
You'd fuck the way humyns fucked
Fucked at the dawn of time
How would you fuck
if you understood what it means to be free?
You'd fuck the way you might be fucked
might be fucked, by me

what??

To some an angel, to some despised
Vile fiend or holy prize
What am i, what am i?
Who can tell?
What am i, what am i?
Fuck it all to hell!

My sweet breath prompts domestic proposal
My foul breath called a garbage disposal
What am i, what am i?
Who can tell?
What am i, what am i?
Fuck it all to hell!

Am i appalling, am i enthralling
Porcupine people perpetually galling
What am i, what am i?
Who can tell?
What am i, what am i?
Fuck it all to hell!

jails and banks

Behold the houses of holy
Frankly, we're fucked
Watch the watering holes
We are way past plucked
Spy the snipping salons of shallow
Mercy me, we're mucked
It can't be true, it can't be so
with all the joy there is to know!
Silliness, science, symphonies
Redwood trees, high trapeze, biracial babies
A meteor shower in the snow
A misty romp under a rainbow
Look at the tanks and justice's scales
I'm sorry, we're fucked
Look at the banks, look at the jails
We are very, very fucked

OkCupid leftovers

After a month on the site, there are three profiles i cannot shake...and each one its own unique category.
OVULATING IN OAKLAND
A womyn of color, with natural hair and an intelligent, playful spirit. Her writing flowed easily, and she seemed largely free of the damage and neurosis that pervades most profiles. She wanted babies, and a financially-advantaged man (somehow, she made mercenary seem reasonable). Since that clearly isn't me, i did the honorable thing and passed, even though her words and photos stirred a longing that won't fade. I can't stop dreaming of the words i should have sent, and the idiot with whom she'll get stuck...
MATEABLE IN MARTINEZ
A surgeon with parents from India. She wants babies. Her pictures triggered reptilian desire, and i wrote to her, saying it was easy to dream of taking care of her children, and rubbing her feet after her long days. Was i emboldened by lonely insanity, and the likelihood that she wouldn't respond to a penniless poet? Yes...yet if she wrote back, i tell myself i would go. Have i lost touch with reality? Perhaps that grasp was always shaky...am i so inclined to plunge into insanity partly because i want that "best lover ever" experience (totally free, no walls or limits) so desperately, yet also suspect i can't get a womyn pregnant, just because i never accidentally have? Hayzeus, that's a slim thread of irrationality on which to pin anything.
AGE-APPROPRIATE CANDIDATE
What a stupid term...yet not entirely. To be with someone who remembers your cultural references is nice. This womyn's profile challenged my avowed principles of substance over style. She seemed as perfect for me as any profile i've seen (a list so short it perhaps doesn't exist, yet still...). She just seemed a gentle, smart flower child, all grown up. Unaffected, unafraid...i worried that i might lose my soul if i DIDN'T write to her. My demons were dancing loudly...horny loneliness on top of the desire to have my vegan cake and eat it too...the most amazing love, yet be free...it made me face the possibility that subconsciously i'm drawn to younger wimyn with an element of instability, who will set me free after a period of intense loving, keeping my conscience clear because i didn't walk away.
Do i want what doesn't exist? One word struck me most with this womyn - REAL REAL REAL. Nothing standing between me and lifelong companionate love. Is it possible to have that without murdering yourself, in this culture?
Her pictures were beautiful. She also looked older than me, and i HATE that i noticed that. She looks quite nice for her (our) age...but not as young as i. Ahhhh, such bullshit in our heads.
I stared at her profile for an eternity or three, my finger over the pass button. Then my finger moved, and hit "like". I went to the match section, ready to write to her...
And she wasn't there. Computer glitch. Gone, nothing.
A few days ago, i re-set my profile, partly out of writerly curiosity, to see what i would discover when i expanded my search to include ALL possible romantic situations.
But also in the hope (and dread) that a re-set might put these wimyn in my sight again...

OkCupideux

(a follow-up to https://nakedmeadow.blogspot.com/2020/07/okcupid.html)

Since the last essay, i changed my status to include an openness to "hookups", partly out of writerly curiosity, and partly because after a month, i'd finally exhausted the profiles under my previous parameters (it's impressive it took me that long, as i was averaging maybe a half hour of scanning per day). Which is not to say i'm entirely averse to a hookup...under the right circumstances, maybe. But despite my insanity-inducing untouched loneliness, the thought of emotionless intimacy makes me shudder. Not that all hookups are inherently unemotional...
Or are they?
It's like polyamory. Theoretically, yes...but it would take an exceptional womyn to make me comfortable. I just got a message from an Oakland womyn looking for an ongoing thing. Her personality seems ballsy and fun...hell, she even likes Star Trek...but her pictures trigger no hormonal response. Should i try to get over that? Or send a polite no thank you? Say nothing? What's the correct spiritual choice?? Aaagh.
Remember i told you how surprised i was at the large percentage of wimyn who haven't responded to my messages? There's a flip side - an element of unspoken relief any time a womyn ignores me. On a deep psychological level, i've gotten used to the idea that there may be no womyn alive truly right for me. Rationally, i want to reject that...i mean, i'm alive, so there MUST be others like me! But...i've honestly never come close. A womyn who gets me, and triggers unqualified desire?
Not within a million miles, really.
But that may be more about the larger reality, that we live in a dysfunctional society of alienation and fear. All we learn as children is that EVERYTHING we give and receive must be negotiated. By the time we're adults, we have so many holes and wounds, all we can think to do is try to fill them with the "perfect" mate.
No lover could ever measure up.
And so i strive to be as uncomplicated and giving as i can.
But it's like trying to speak a language most people don't know exists.
So...a part of me applauds any womyn who resists me. Good for you, darling, you've probably spared us both exquisite misery. I know too that sometimes i answer profiles that aren't much of a match, just because they trigger a hormonal response and i'm so mind-fuckingly alone.
Back to OKC, where humynity-sucking commodification reigns. There are SO many profiles, you keep thinking that eventually a perfect one will come along.
Maybe for most, that's true?
But it's always painful reducing people to two dimensions.
Even though i'm quite good at it.
For example, there are all sorts of red flags that can make me pass by. There are the biggies (drugs/god/makeup/greed), but bemusingly small ones too. Like a fondness for scary movies. That quirk can send me howling in terror - there's something about the psychology of people who like scary movies, that strikes me as unexamined. A fondness for such films is actually probably a healthy response to this fear-based world...a scary movie lets you face demons vicariously and safely, with the added benefit that the hero we're supposed to identify with, usually prevails. Happy (or at least not-dead) ending!
So i understand the allure...
I just think most people who watch fright films are semi-idiots who have no idea why they like what they like.
Gawd, am i just an insufferable snob?
Or perhaps it's just any tolerance for glamorized gore, that frightens the hell out of me.
I also wondered whether exposure to all these profiles would lend credence to the folk wisdom that less visually attractive people have more attractive personalities, and vice versa. There doesn't seem to be a clear answer - when i recall the most stunning profiles, perhaps half were by lookers.
Okay, now for more fun! The cheeky caveats and commentary in the questions subsection of my OKC profile (i had to choose my primary answer from choices they provide).
And i have to admit, even though it was sometimes hard to contort my personality into their molds, overall they do a pretty good job...which can't be easy. They've clearly got at least one genuinely hip humyn creating site content.
RATE YOUR SELF-CONFIDENCE
Very, very high
"Every single person you've ever met is an arrogant sociopath. I'm just the only one honest about it (visual - playful spark in my eyes)."
It blows my mind that in a month of scanning profiles, i only recall one womyn who also rated her confidence as very, very high. Is this about a culture that still teaches its daughters that wimyn are lesser than men, and boys still taught to be arrogant and daring? Is is about wimyn's greater emotional honesty?
DO YOU LIKE GOING TO WEDDINGS?
Not really
"Not really is the strongest possible negative answer? OKC, get your shit together."
WHICH WOULD YOU RATHER BE, WEIRD OR NORMAL?
Weird
"Some people want to be normal?"
COULD YOU DATE SOMEONE WHO DOES DRUGS?
No
"Wellll...maybe. I mean, we all have our brain-altering escapes of choice. Massage, music, maple syrup..."
COULD YOU DATE SOMEONE WHO WAS REALLY QUIET?
Yes
"We can talk or not talk for...hours (automatic baby privileges if you know this quote)."
ABOUT HOW LONG DO YOU WANT YOUR NEXT RELATIONSHIP TO LAST?
The rest of my life
"Best answer? No expectations, no limits."
HOW OFTEN DO YOU WANT SEX?
Every day
"Three times on Wednesday, then we can skip Thursday and maybe Monday."
COULD YOU DATE SOMEONE WITH NO LONG-TERM GOALS?
Yes
"I've never met anyone who knew how to be alive in the moment."
DO YOU OFTEN MAKE JOKES THAT OFFEND UPTIGHT PEOPLE?
Yes
"Maybe not often, certainly sometimes."
I adore wimyn who answer yes to this.
ARE YOU OPEN TO A CASUAL RELATIONSHIP?
Yes
"As long as the friendship isn't casual."
IMAGINE YOU HAVE A SIGNIFICANT OTHER WHO REVEALS THEY HAVE A VIDEO OF A SEXUAL ENCOUNTER FROM A PRIOR RELATIONSHIP. WOULD YOU WANT TO SEE IT?
Yes
"Get the popcorn!"
WHICH SUPERPOWER WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE, FLIGHT OR INVISIBILITY?
Flight
"Neither, i want the ability to see all truth."
DO YOU THINK THE MILITARY SHOULD BAN TRANSGENDER PEOPLE FROM SERVICE?
No
"No...i think the military should ban ALL people from service."
WHICH WORD DESCRIBES YOU BETTER, INTENSE OR CAREFREE?
Carefree
"Um...intensely carefree?"
HOW WILL YOU ADDRESS RACIAL INEQUALITY?
Educate myself/others
"Make an interracial baby!"
SHOWER SEX?
No thank you
"I'm too conscious of wasting hot water. But bidet sex, hell yes!"

"Spring Chicken"

STAY YOUNG FOREVER (OR DIE TRYING)
2016
-by bill gifford
Bill is a journalist who does a dandy job collecting our best scientific knowledge on the struggle against aging and death. He visits centers, conferences, and public events (like the senior Olympics) to conduct interviews, with an amused and curious eye. He enters an aging study as a participant. He talks to the leading scientists in the field, and comes away with this - at the rate our knowledge is growing, one is justified in thinking that if you can manage to not die for another few decades, you might live to be very (even unprecedentedly) old indeed. But for now, these insights will have to do. Use it or lose it! Eat less. Sustained stress is terrible, but bursts of short stress (fasting, polar bear swims...) might be conducive to longevity, as they strengthen low-activity cells, and weaken voracious ones (like cancer). It's conceivable that very soon, chemo patients will be urged to fast before treatments. Aging doesn't seem to be about slowing down and wasting away, as long assumed, but rather about burning oneself out. We aren't designed to adapt to old age, as for most of our species history forty was old, so once we pass full development, there are development protocols in our body that have no idea how to slow down. A delightful read.

OkCupid

It happened.
I thought i was done with that world forever, but surrealia pandemis has pulled me back in.
I've returned to...online dating.
When Craigslist romance was legislated out of existence, it felt like time to make my love connections all real-world. I'd had fun with CL, and even found a couple wonderful romances, but switching to a paid site invoked a level of neediness that wasn't me.
Now...welcome to the oppression of three covid months without touching another humyn. Which wasn't so very different from the three months before (2.5 years since my last lover), except psychologically. I was suddenly removed from POSSIBILITY, it felt like. All social occasions, erased.
Then i remembered a friend talking about a new non-paid site. A cornerstone of that site is the upsell to paid status, but i entered, determined to maintain my purity. OkCupid isn't a appallingly/gloriously anarchic sea of ads like CL, it's a place to create a profile (with pictures) and search profiles sent your way, based on statistical compatibility.
Skeptics, feel free to pooh.
There are three possible reactions to each profile: pass, "like", or like+message. If someone likes you back, you can chat. If not, they're gone. With free status, you can only read messages - you see the number of likes you're getting, but not who they're from (a clever upsell, for in the first week i got forty likes, but zero messages). It's obvious this causes consternation, because many profiles open with "messages pleeeeeease". Creating my profile was sometimes fun, though also frustrating fitting my unconventionality/complexity into the questions they pose, which appear in a profile subsection.
You quickly have to come to grips with the dehumynizing aspect. Marketing ourselves as commodities...there is a cold efficiency to it, as you can "pass" a profile with a quick glance at pictures or keywords. For me, those words are "christian" and "drinker/smoker" (astrology is also a red flag). My quick visual turn-offs are makeup, obesity, and dull eyes. It's here where shallowness creeps (or charges) in, because a hormonal response can make one more tolerant of an unlikely profile. The inverse also pertains. My two most powerful triggers are pictures and the answer to "how often do you want sex" - an "everyday" can make my eyes dilate. Don't misunderstand...i'm open to (and desirous of) a deep emotional connection of any conceivable duration. But on the surface, it's hard to see past how howlingly lonely and horny i am.
In spite of all that, the opposite of shallowness can prevail! I'll occasionally read a profile so startling or resonant, i'll ignore a lesser visual response or verbal red flags.
If i follow a profile all the way to the questions subsection, i'll go to "disagreements" first, still on the lookout for god/drugs/greed. At the top of each profile, you're given a compatibility rating. My highest has been 98%, and lowest 50%. These can be illusory, indicative of non-pertinent questions answered, or too small a batch - it's up to each individual how many they answer. Still, there's something exciting about a 90+ match, even for us unmateable wildflowers.
On my profile, i declare an openness to polyamory, but i've yet to message any of the mated wimyn looking for more. In theory it sounds nice, but i fear being disposable...
It's bizarre how many seemingly-intelligent females sound very Stepford. Travel, travel, travel, their lives seem to revolve around travel. Look at them abroad, they're so EARNEST about travel! Are they trying to impress others, or themselves? Filtering out the non-rich? Am i too cynical? Travel is wonderful, but it pales with being comfortable in your skin, alive in the moment and in the humyn community.
In one month, i've had only had two chats. One was with a christian womyn in Kenya, who triggered my hormones and curiosity over why she'd "liked" me. I invited her to dive into openness, but she didn't (or couldn't). The other, a local womyn, fizzled after a couple notes - perhaps neither of us were deeply interested. Most of my messages go unanswered...which i find surprising. Am i not as impressive as i think? Too open and honest? My photos were originally all flattering, then i added some late-night selfies. Objectively, i know i'm looking for one in a...thousand? Ten thousand? A womyn bursting with brilliance, unconventionality, and integrity, who doesn't self-medicate, talk to invisible friends, or care about money. Yeah, i know...
I suppose on a simpler level, i just want a lover who isn't annoying (cue the mellencamp!). How can that feel like the impossible dream?
On the positive side, OKC has been a boon, psychologically. It's actually restored some semblance of connection with humynity...even if it's only potential, the possibility of interacting with real humyns is a gift, as i essentially live alone in a pandemic.
And...i upped to paid status.
Not for long!
Just the minimum, one month, because i was dying to see the "likes" i'd accumulated, and also to offer you a deeper look into this world. For $40, i got to see...and at a glance, it was a hot mess! Had ANY of them read my profile? Are they all even real (one is wary of OKC creating fake profiles). A third were geographically impossible, and at least another third patently wrong for me. NONE of them resonated with "yes!"...or even a solid maybe. And curiously, with paid status, new likes slowed to a trickle.
But i've become tolerant of likes without messages. It's a buffer between interest and action, a way of putting a pin in someone (once you pass, there's no going back). A like can say "the ball's in your court...despite my reservations, this prize might be yours!"
It's been interesting to observe my own psychology at work. I listed my age preference as 25-55. I try not to skew toward younger, but mostly fail. I'm being a bit unfair - there are plenty of fortysomething doors on which i've knocked. Nonetheless, i'm clearly NOT avoiding wannabe moms. On my profile, i put "might want children", which isn't a lie...but is more reflective of this unending midlife crisis, where children (plus a mommy) guarantee (theoretically) unlimited daily love and intimacy, which i've missed so much in my life it viscerally hurts. Objectively, i know that having children might be a disaster for me, in terms of maximizing my happiness and what i have to offer the world. Plus, parenthood is where sex and sleep go to die. But i also crave the intensities of pregnancy...to be with a womyn every strange step of that journey (one friend called those nine months the best sex of her life). I offer a highly intellectual/athletic genotype wrapped in the most playful, gentle phenotype...it's so bizarre, feeling that if the right womyn called me on my impregnation fantasies, i'd plunge.
Another psychological factor is the awareness that i've never had the best lover of my life...to love in the ways it's taken me so long to learn, without walls or fear...there's an escalating desperation to have that before i'm old.
Another reason my likes skew younger is because many wimyn my age look flat-out old. That's not mere shallowness...my attitudes and physiology are those of someone younger. Probably much younger.
It's also clear that i'm skewing toward wimyn of color. Anyone surprised?
Okay, now for the fun. Here it is, streaking up the charts with a bullet...wrob's OkCupid profile!
MY SELF-SUMMARY
Love without fear or negotiation...anybody? Wildflower trying to fix the world. Ukulele blues comedian and nature boy (cyclist/pacifist/nudist/feminist/secular humanist). Part leader, part loner, part-time nerd. I don't believe in jealousy (though i'll do monogamy). Clubs, bars, and dress codes suck, bonfire drums rule! My response to a world of poverty and oppression is to live as freely as possible, possessing only what i need. Merriment is paramount - irony, gallows, prankery, pillow-thumping. To cry, or laugh 'til you pee, go to the YouTube channel "wrob's naked meadow".
CURRENT GOAL
A world (or website!) where no one has to sell themselves?
I COULD PROBABLY BEAT YOU AT
7:03. Then you could beat me at 7:04, 7:09, and 2:55?
I VALUE
Radical kindness, radical honesty.
A PERFECT DAY
3 hours playing/exploring
2 hours creating
1 hour performing
1 hour massage
2 hours sex
1 hour music/reading
Holding a baby (or puppy)
THE MOST PRIVATE THING I'M WILLING TO ADMIT
Secrets? Never. How about mild depression from lowering my emotional walls too far, and carrying the weight of the world? Small talk makes my spirit shrivel. At a party, i usually end up with the kids, pets, or climbing a tree.
WHAT I'M ACTUALLY LOOKING FOR
Someone who laughs at themself, and knows how to go deeply into their soul. Low-maintenance! No makeup, heels, or shaving? Yes please. Automatic baby privilege for a real afro.
LEVEL 5 VEGANS ARE...
Too sexy for their pants?

artifact

Treating your life like an artifact
on a glass-enclosed shelf...
I see how you might flee me
But how can you flee yourself?

more

I sought sage advice
from my poetry mentor
The wizened words came back
"Less is more, less is more"

I shared each new poem
but was ever shown the door
with the echoing words
"Less is more, less is more"

I whittled, i pared, i tossed
verses and verbiage to the floor
This dictum became my grail
"Less is more, less is more"

Still my minimaler musings
did not make my mentor adore
My sensei serenely smiled
"Less is more, less is more"

Then one night apollo appeared
and calliope came to my door
I saw in a fevered vision
poems of one word each, and no more!

Poems to put the world on its ear
and transform life forevermore!
Trembling, i raised my quill
to let sage sublimity soar

But then a fearful shudder
through my tearful spirit tore
What if other poets claimed
they'd made MY masterpieces before??

A plague of plagiarization
might be skulking in store!
What if i were guttered while others
took my flowers to the fore?

My brilliance was too dangerous
It might destroy me, i'd be done for!
Might my light even incite
unending, world-wasting war?

Babies devouring parents
Sanity nevermore to restore
Womankind lying only with beasts
This peril i could not ignore

So look for me in alleyways
Offer one penny, and no more
And i'll whisper poetic perfection
while the drunken hobos snore

really sing!

Lacerating lessons leading to loving
Haunting horrors, harbingers of healing
Daily dehumanizations devolving to devouring
Expunging expectation
Self-severing, forsaking fear
Negation of negotiation
To finally be truly HERE
In a lost world logic is laughable
Insanity immune to ingenuity
Depopulate propriety, reboot our entirety!
This offering outrageous
Rendering radical GIVING contagious?
There's no reason it ought end well
Only certainty all else is hell

butterfly heart

I can't wait to kiss your butterfly heart
To feel your flowing furrow part
You'll be so happy you might just fart
When i lovingly lick your butterfly heart

shadow

Those i should have loved, i failed
Those who should have loved me, they failed
I hear a scoff, i hear a tut
but you and i know better

For one sacred second
within the space of a poem
we spy truth's slippery shadow
Excise every iota
of self-serving effluvia
and what
is truly
left?

Most never allow
that lacerating lathe of truth
We don't know how
And if we did, we wouldn't

Blinders in place, we prance or stumble on
Ever patching facades of reliability
Ever weaving webs of mutual self-interest
Sometimes one intersection
will hold up for years
or a lifetime
Don't dare call it humyn decency
The path of least resistance?
Sing a self-leveraging serenade!
Don't dare call it humyn decency

In brackish, blackish backwaters poets know
we abandoned them all

TOO inconvenient unsexy unflattering
Run away, a voice cried!
So we ran, oh we ran
And the unfeeling faces of those who fled
did not fail to flee themselves

Would you like the litany of names?
A voyeuristic vomit of guilt and shame?
Those i crucified, those who let me die
Don't tempt me...

How would you exist in perpetual-retribution exemption?
Our reflexive response is the deceit we repeat
Ego dies when we spy our lies
Radical truth begets
radical forgiveness

black & blonde

Blonde & black in love entwined
Breaking beyond barriers of mind
Black & blonde in beauty entwined
Naked innocence healing humynkind

snapshots and snow globes

I loathe the game "I'm not right for you"
We count on our brains to see us through
Bestowing love only where we find no frictions
with all our requirements, all our restrictions
Are we woven from the same weave?
Do we cleave to what they believe?
Affinities and divinities, references and preferences
Landscapes and escapes, conclusions and delusions
But our brains are dumber than our DNA
Our molecules feel the truths that we hide away
Our bones prime us to love a universe of folk
but obeying those cells becomes a sick, sick joke
This world punishes those who love without measure
We negative reinforce, we poison that pleasure
And even when we do follow our sad little brain
those loving choices lead too often to pain
How else could it be when love is negotiation?
Snapshots and snow globes give no oxygenation
So each life becomes a starless galaxy
Only black holes where love was supposed to be

crimes table

(a love note to jeff bezos)

Raise your hand if you have less than you need!
Come step into truth that makes eyes bleed
Raise your hand if you have just what you need
An enviable state, may we be agreed?
Raise your hand if you have twice your need
Perhaps pragmatism you now exceed?
Raise your hand if you have ten times your need
Ethically embarrassing, can't you concede?
Raise your hand if you have a hundred times your need
Oh how deep are the depths of greed?
Raise your hand if you have a thousand times your need
Humynity's healing you implacably impede
Raise your hand if you have a million times your need
while we cry, die, suffer, and plead
The poor are powerless to proceed
Tain't no god to intercede
Mass murder no minor misdeed
You imperil your imperative to breathe and breed

orbits

Jimi and jaco were jamming with miles and monk
It was jazzed, it was bluesed, it was fused, it was funk!
Jaco and jimi were jamming with monk and miles
Everyone had extra-terrestrial smiles
Miles and monk jamming with jaco and jimi
A flesh quake, sense-shake saturnalian shimmy
Monk and miles jamming with jimi and jaco
Minds melting to orbits mortals never know

shattered

Replace, erase
in excruciating flame
This skin, this sex
This eviscerating shame

sinner frankie

Is it raining hard in frisco?
Only freedom's air can get me right
I'm a post-industrial peon raised on TV
and fast food and intimacy fright
Think i'll hop me a freight train
because i'm feeling so blue
Maybe just maybe somebody left
MY heart in San Francisco too?
Oh somebody tell me, tell me
where can Philmo Street be found?
Is free love truly dead?
Gotta be some around!
Are we all just dreaming androids?
Maude's gone, but harold might be cool
Don't want my body invaded or snatched
I'm adrift in mrs. robinson's pool
Searching for a tribe or flower child
A healer, howler, hugger, a...booker
Isn't this where captain kirk went
before he became t.j. hooker?
Did the Alcatraz birdman tell his friends
to go fuck up tippi hedren?
Look! Above the Golden Gate!
007 dick-swinging with chris walken!
And there! Saget and the olsens
having a menage e trois!
Chekov needs nuclear wessels
(i think they're in Alameda)
Will California girls (i mean wimyn!)
find me a priceless prize?
No maneaters please (though i do like
what's between ms. stone's thighs)
No amy, i don't believe in luck
and this world offers damn few joys
But listen! It's "Eyes of the World"
played by jerry and the boys!
Is that summer of love now
a woeful winter of ill will?
Not if i throw off my clothes
and play ukulele on Hippie Hill

Where Have All the Follicles Gone

(sung to the tune of "Where Have All the Flowers Gone", by pete seeger)

Where have all the bushes gone?

Long time passing
Where have all the bushes gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the bushes gone?
Everybody's mowed their lawn
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?

Where have all the eyebrows gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the eyebrows gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the eyebrows gone?
Painted stubble every one
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?

Where have all the grey hairs gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the grey hairs gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the grey hairs gone?
Is paul mccartney twenty-one?
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?

Where have all the brunettes gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the brunettes gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the brunettes gone?
Anyone can have more fun
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?

Where have all the afros gone?
Long time passing
Underarm and leg hairs gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the bushes gone
Everybody's mowed their lawn
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?

gleemarcation

That's why i'm alive
To serve you affirmation and adoration
For the first time in my life
To plie' past perimeters of predation

That's why i'm alive
To affirm thee and adore thee
A mirror for your spirit
minus contingency

That's why i'm alive
To render you affirmed and adored
For the realm of "scored!" and "hoard"
becomes soon bored and ignored

That's why we're alive
To affirm and adore
The commodification dance
shall sashay no more

unseamly

They're prancing their pussies all around
Carousing their cunts completely unbound
Manumitting their muffs in moral meltdown
Stalking and sleepwalking, sexually spellbound
Hurling into a hormonal hunting ground
Crashing all conservatism aground
Unleashing utter inhibition breakdown
Complete carnal chaos is crowned
It's oh so bigger than gold-digger dreams
Fucking rock stars is where repression
explodes at the seams

can

As a child i was sent to school
dressed as a can of beer
Not knowing i'd be breaking a rule
"No child, you DON'T wear that here"
It was an excellent can, painted by hand
Craftsmanship through and through
And somehow i find, as the years unwind
i'm still in that can no matter what i do
I repulse people i try to love
Doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong word
Thinking too deep, feeling too much
Fuck the games, they're absurd

schizophrenEEK!

(or, the two wrobs)
What an inauspicious start...invoking the false factoid definition of a famous term. But "multiple personality disorder" or "dissociative identity disorder" are crappy titles. And neither are true either, as the two wrobs have always been integrated. So well in fact, that it's only in middle age that i've pondered the duality.
But it's always been there.
In personality and physicality, there is a duality in me that seems more pronounced than for most. I was once described by someone as the most diplomatic person they'd ever met...and by another, the most tactless. The most easygoing and open-minded...and most stubborn or self-righteous? The most tolerant...and harshest critic?
Somehow, all true.
Being an unimpeachably trustworthy nurturer has always been at the core of my self-image. And often the reality. Several wimyn have made me the first person they've told they were raped. Other people have shared their most troubling secret. I've been trusted, profoundly and humblingly.
Yet others might tell you of an insensitive, creepy, or narcissistic wrob. I've rubbed some the wrong way, because i've always had a minor (or not so minor) savior complex, and have almost no fear of being misunderstood. That's brilliant, yet tragic.
I spent decades chasing radical humility, because i was far too aware of the arrogance lurking in us all. In my case, i might have called it justified arrogance, and we could lose hours debating whether such a thing exists.
To all that, you might respond that many of us are complex, and most of us contradictory.
Agreed.
But still, what the hell am i? College standout kissed by the hottest coed? Teetotaler who had my retainer tossed in a toilet by drunken floormates? On-call back-rubber for every womyn in my dorm (literally hearing my name shouted in summons down the hall, almost every night)? Outcast who had makeup applied to my sleeping face by smirking comrades? High school star of the play? Loner who didn't go to the prom because "he wouldn't have wanted to go with anyone who would have wanted to go with him"? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.
That last choice was a bit of a martyrish pose, reflecting both unacknowledged snobbery and my determination to have a womyn whose "hotness" was perhaps unconventional, but indisputable. That's not quite fair to me though - i also sensed that prom was bullshit capitalistic show and tell. And even at that tender age, i had to be subconsciously aware that i'd met no female who was a pea for my offbeat pod (three decades on, same story). But still, wimyn weren't flocking to me as i thought they should, so my subconscious dealt with it in a way that kept my self-worth bulletproof.
Am i simply an embodiment of our culture of psycho-sexual alienation, in which we forever struggle to come to terms with that person in the mirror? There is a disconnect in us all, between the way we see ourselves and the way others do.
All true...yet for me, it feels like there's more to it. More than anyone i know, it feels like a fair response to my life is "What the hell is that guy?"
For instance, i've no idea whether i'm handsome or ugly.
Okay, that's not true. I'm either.
I'm not talking about bad hair or lighting. Some days, i look in the mirror and am struck by model good looks. Other days...as a friend said, "yechhh". I promise, this isn't some manifestation of the crippled self-worth we all share. I had to have my occasional ugliness pointed out, as i'd always seen myself as the most attractive person on the planet. Much of that stemmed from a teenage defense mechanism. I built my emotional walls so high, they took years (decades?) to deconstruct.
But i recently came face-to-face with this changeability, undertaking a six-week music project, recording a new video almost every day, in the same place with the same camera. I received a more profound tutorial in THIS IS YOU than most people ever do. And what i discovered was looks so inconstant, one might almost wonder whether it's the same person.
It leaves me envying all those who are simply one or the other. Attractive. Ugly. Somewhere on that spectrum.
I know, i know, the grass is greener, and being indisputably one quality or the other is its own prison. Yet mine seems the crueler torment...wondering whether my life might have gone in different directions, receiving (or being denied) love or opportunities, simply through random timing. One might think it would all balance out, but i suspect that in the long-term, it's more disadvantageous. I've not had many long-term romances...is this part of the reason?
I truly have no idea.
Personality seems inextricably tied to physicality, as our assessments of others are profoundly bound to how "attractive" they are...or how attractive we think others think they are. We all bullshit ourselves into thinking we're not so shallow.
I truly have to ponder whether a weaker personality would have succumbed to genuine schizophrenia or dissociative identity disorder long ago. Some have been quite intimidated by my intelligence or attractiveness - yet i've also had striking feedback in the other direction. I know that if any of us came face to face with total truth...with what everyone we've known has actually thought about us, mental breakdowns would result. Few grasp just how tenuous and fragile our self-images are.
I would love that raw honesty. Even if it contained a thousand gut-punches, and only a few gems of affirmation. I promise you, there are a handful of hopeless crushes from all our pasts, who were pining for us just as much. Life-changers that never happened.
Who am i, we all want to know...we strive to label it, yearning for the comfort of certainty. Am i who i THINK i am? Am i what others think? How will i ever know?
Even for the strongest, this culture provides enough disconnects to keep anyone in perpetual therapy.
We trudge on, constantly trying to get the world to agree with our self-serving self-image.
Who am i?
Who are you?
Who are we??

time's dream

I wish i had a time machine
for simone de beauvoir, an intersexed cherokee, and me
We'd travel to each moment of your life
you felt unloved or unfree
Whenever you felt confused
belittled, used, or betrayed
Invalidated, isolated
Anytime you were afraid
We'd fly to you in those moments
through the misty hourglass sand
We'd seek you in your sadness
We'd look into your eyes, and...
Wrap you in hugs
Wrap you in healings
Wrap you in tickles
Wrap you in squealings
Wrap you in affirmations
Wrap you in sighs
Wrap you in heartbeats
Wrap you in cries
We'd hold you 'til you slept like a babe
To a dreamland so fearless and free
Then we'd tiptoe to the time machine
Simone de beauvoir, an intersexed cherokee, and me

undermar

You make me feel repulsive and base
and wretched shame for this humyn race
Your flesh fills me with lust and greed
Your poems makes this poor heart bleed
But then excruciating existential pains
Such creeping corruptions of our selfishly-socialized brains
I must acquire and devour
Wipe away your willpower
til' all you see is desire for me
Emblazoning thee on my life's mythology!
Ah, such egotistical lament...
Shameless, aimless self-aggrandizement
This callous craving feels so cliched
A trophy-hunting endgame to getting laid
Yet in shedding the shackles of superficial city
must i eschew you for being so pretty?
WIPE IT AWAY, peer past the lies
WIPE IT AWAY, perceive the pearlescent prize
Comprehend me, i know you can
Your spirit cries for a complementary man
You'll never find eyes so knowing and needful as mine
Feel this cuore caress like a clinging vine
You embody my epitome of carnality
I'd rather die than never fuck fearless and free
Fucking unforeseen since the founding of time
The most naked fornication in humynity's reclamatory climb
A proclamation that homo sapiens can heal this Earth
An affirmation celebration of goddess rebirth

consumartian chronicle

It's time to stop starving in a cornucopia of food
It's time to finally be completely nude
It's time to be astounded by suddenly being safe
It's time to forgo this world that makes us stifle and chafe
It's time to misplace the modifier "maybe"
It's time for our bodies to decide about a baby
It's time to stop measuring increments of bad or good
It's time to be undone by being understood
It's time to see the sun after merciless, unending night
It's time for "you" to fall away in freedom's first flight

else

You don't look like her...
but my heart knows better
You don't talk like her...
but brains be chains

This lifetime's futility
Becoming a heart set free
Flown from our prisons
they bequeathed all of we
To breathe in an unbound land
unfound by humyn hand
An oasis of emancipation...
...yet one more solitary station

For who goes beyond that wall?
Reachable, yet unknown to all
Beyond calculation or shame
Where fear has no claim

Run back, run back!
to the mind-prison
they called
"you"
Run back, run back!
Else be by me devoured
like no lover
ever knew

nightingail

I wanted to feel your heart
in happiness hum
But mostly...
i wanted to bite your bum
I wanted to tell you
your poems are dumb
But mostly...
i wanted to bite your bum
I wanted to love you
'til queendom cum!
But mostly...
i wanted to bite your bum

but...

The most disturbing poet i've ever met
You paralyze me with longing and regret
I want to wallow with you in the mud
Make you a harbor for my beating blood
But...
You make me feel so aware i want to cry
You make me feel so trapped i want to lie
You make me feel so alive i want to die
You make me feel so humyn i want to try
Yet how could we endure this all or nothing world
You're not my starchild, fearless and wild
Though how could you match my meandering mental space
when i too fall short of that wildflower state of grace
Perhaps you are my reflection though
More like me than any female i know
A fat womyn and poor man
That's what the world sees when looking at thee and me
We embody the epitome of cultural undesirability
I'm not disparaging or body-shaming
Realism is where i'm aiming
I've no wish to elevate our surface essence
Reductive labels are the paragon of putrescence
But...
That's what this world will only see
when sizing up thee and me
And the world's rating would celebrate our mating
Happy to be relieved of the onerous trust
of dealing with our damages and lust
Your poems are so wounded and raw
So primal that i'm filled with awe
I want to hold you and heal you on my knees
Would we be crushed by your insecurities?
You're not my mirror in naked freedom's play
And this all or nothing world makes me run, run away
I've no Hallmark card or Disney dream
I'm afraid i must risk being rude
I want to give you your greatest fuck ever
then repeat into infinitude
Should you feel honored being thus prized
when i suffer the curse of the re-sensitized?
Best avoid me, i'm not clowning
In emotions i'm surely drowning
Perhaps my solicitous lust is quixotic and trite
Perhaps i only want to hear the poems you'll write
Being underloved leads to overeating?
I've oral solutions that bear repeating
I've no endgame, no polite goal
I may not be your soul mate but i fuck with pure soul
And if i don't love you with every last drop of me
deeper will we drift into inhumynity

unentitled

When i see kind eyes of womynly seeking
i want to pounce like a pup
When a female form finds my media-mangled buttons
i long to leap right up
Or really any womyn not wearing a bra...
My mouth dries, my heart beats raw

But then comes the guilt of every closed fist
Resurrections of each rapist recidivist
I burn and hang my head
I choke and wish i were dead
All i can do is avert my eyes
"Don't look at her like she's some prize"
Subsume your male gaze, we're not entitled
The totality of truth is truly suicidal

Harassed, hunted
Abandoned, unwanted
Denigrated, depilated
Overweighted, underweighted
Painted, objectified
Patronized, unsatisfied
Silenced, violated
Murdered, mutilated

How does ANY womyn allow any man near?
Why do they not run away in fear?
How do they keep letting us in?
Just Disney and Cosmo and clucking hens?
History's greatest stockholm syndrome
abetted by hormonal maelstrom?
Pounding in their heads like some kettle drum...
WANT-COCK
WANT-COCK
WANT-COCK

Is that what's it like to be womyn?
It would be so easier if they said they're done
The game's past, nobody won
Unfurl the flag - forever lesbian
We'd stop all this grieving and obsessing
I'd breathe once more, grant me that blessing
My bloodied brain weeps in pain
Yet only she can make me whole again

ice below

An open heart nobody needs
A wasting wound that ever bleeds
I've spent my life perfect and ready
No one's perfect? BULLSHIT, freddy
That's a crock of anti-humynism
A shlock of self-loathing jism
For i am EXACTLY as i ought be
(or would be, if life hadn't maimed both of we)
I've selfish shallownesses, sure that's true
but ever was i primed to leap over or through
To find someone in nurturance celebration
and never bind them to my expectation
Ready, always ready
Lonely, always lonely
A testament to the truism
of alienation only
Oh, there were moments
A flash of brilliance or three
But always deep down
thin ice below we
Never manipulate? - ever alone
A forlorn stray without a bone
And no longer perfect, for mental strain
has rendered me raw and half-insane
Never manipulate - ever alone
No one to calm and call my own
A wasting wound that ever bleeds
An open heart nobody needs

wholesale

Killing each other wholesale
Starving each other wholesale
Carving each other body and soul
Self-denial, self-control
Self-maiming, self-shaming
Your fault? No no
Your job? 'Fraid so

frozen

I was on a train, speeding through the night in the deep of winter. I had a male companion, and interacted with a conductor. There was a feeling of ominous foreboding. Suddenly, a corpse with most of the flesh rotted away came after us, with murderous intent. After attempts at evasion, i threw myself from the train, to draw the corpse away from the others. I landed near a semi-frozen pond, the skeleton coming after me. Three quarters around the pond, i tricked the corpse into the water. I held my foot on its shoulder to force it down. Its bony arms wrapped around my ankle and calf, trying to pull itself up. I emptied a bottle of toxic fluid, perhaps anti-freeze, down its throat...

(A reasonable dream after months of not touching another humyn being, in quarantine? Perhaps. Though i must add, if this sounds like a nightmare, it didn't feel like one. None of that Hollywood "bolting-upright-with-scream" nonsense. It just felt like...yes, this is life. No conscious thought of viruses or inshelteration.)

pond scum

I'm swimming in pond scum
I love it, i love it!
All your haute cuisine?
Just take it and shove it
I'm nibbling pond scum
I adore it, i adore it!
All your gourmet fare?
I deplore it, i deplore it
I'm gulping pond scum
I revere it, i revere it
All your dainty delicacies
smell like beer shit, beer shit
I'm happy in pond scum
Yes, happy as can be
For pond scum is ambrosia
to atomic mutants like me