bi_janus

Finally was able to finish the third chapter. I have told Camy before that I find his prose musical, and these stories were no exception. Reading them was thoroughly diverting and pleasurable.

My grandmother was fond of reminding me, "A day in which you don't piss someone off, isn't a day worth living." Of course, the list of people I want to piss off includes no one here, and my existence is enough to piss some people off, which reduces the effort considerably. I agree with Lug that climate change is amiss.

The sentiment is perfect, and the first two lines of the third stanza a wonderful morsel, Camy.

Ever Present (1978) Bi Janus For Elwin, Ann, and Justine Changing the bed linen and then to the laundry room as we do after each romp They wouldn’t mind the task We are too polite to avoid the courtesy The women are ever present something of them even in our coupling frenzy Their smiles and wagging heads They both have boys

Quickfire Bi Janus Cracking open now in the evening upon the floor, a great egg shattered under its own weight What strides from the juice, shaking off all expectation, every desire? Startling at that Late in the day’s disappointment, calibrated exquisitely, the fire heated beyond love’s joy, Beyond fear of love’s ceasing, whistling into a distance no witness may imagine

My experience is much as Cole's. I recall that recognizing shame in some of my playmates was puzzling. I don't think we feel shame except in the context of disappointing some standard or authority, and Des is right -- where sex is concerned, the standard is usually religious. I am sorry that the feelings of shame or guilt attending young people's expressions of sexuality sometimes persist for such long time.

Unsettling the future is a worthy occupation.

Heart to Page Bi Janus Betimes, like a honeycomb from which sweet oil oozes over the fingers with the barest squeeze. Other times, as a pit from the heart of a dry peach, nothing though in the fingers’ vise.

Thanks, James. Triangles, yes, indeed.

Entangled Bi Janus Edges of the outrushing artifice of our past (because the past is only artifice) blur over the shoulder, as the outline of what fades is less and less clear though it whispers ever closer to the ear. Your arms rest more through me than about me. Will they pluck a heart or a lung for safekeeping when I pull away to a future we resist? His arms, legs, and that other limb we share are a harmony attached to beauty and soul. Three become one.

On the net, no one knows you're a dog. Kamakura's Dealing with Liquids is available on iTunes.

The Hand (1991) Bi Janus Through smoke of fine Havanas, the dealer deals two down on perfect green felt. The Nazarene, in the small blind, without pause calls. The Burning Bush, in the big blind, folds, cranky but unconsumed. The Bringer of Judgment frowns and raises. The goat-footed boy lowers the pipes and is in. The Preserver shrugs and mucks his hand. The lover of Radha bluffs at the pot. The Enlightened One, on the button, throws chips without looking. They all call. The dealer is quiet, taking them through flop, turn, and river. A naked boy brings a tray of longneck beers. Their concupiscent eyes, excepting the hooved-one’s, betray the Law as the dealer smiles.

A comment that comes purely from living with biostatisticians: the study says that Mississippi has the highest proportion of same sex couples raising children, not the largest number.

O-nami Bi Janus Sea sounds confound the ear as the snowy mountain contours before me mimic swelling waves, snow into ocean cries, residue of heartfelt wonder. The voices of the boys laughing on the trail to the Devil’s Elbow raise you from the ash crunching under foot. Bellies on short boards, we nose over swells made across the world by a storm we shan't see. A couple in the evening, riding again and again toward the eastern shore and our clothing, we force past the breakers westward toward Mexico to more gentle undulation, and wait side by side for a wave to lift us. As I turn to catch, dark friend, you catch my hand with yours, keeping us joined and pointed to the disk of the dipping sun, every hope and fear distilled to shared silence, delaying an inevitable journey.

Des, I had to let the drugs take control before reflecting on this one. Even princes of the undead suffer embarrassing moments, and tailors are the bane of a well-dressed being. Why are they in the tomb in the first place, except to see a frozen bit of restrained decomposition. Is there anything this poor soul could have become that did not distress his visitors. If only they had conquered fear and greeting the resident. On the other hand, I had a wonderful discussion at week's end with a friend about forgiveness, redemption, and karma. The final word of the few we spoke was "entanglement." Thanks for giving me a smile and some reflection.

James, You've missed the concept. The fish taco serves as a book mark.

It's available on iTunes or you can try this: http://www.diesel-ebooks.com/item/SW00000128436/Alexander-Dani-Shattered-Glass/1.html

Ben, you are well and truly a young'un. You are right about the OS. Mountain Lion will move the two operating systems a bit closer. I find the ambience at Apple Stores distressing because I dislike feeling like a pinball that can't negotiate the store in a straight line of more than three feet. Too many people for my limited social skills.

Here's what Jason West, the once and now again mayor of New Palz, NY and who performed gay marriages eight years ago before they were sanctioned in law in NY State, said of the President's announcement. West, who identifies as straight, was voted out of office, ostracized in his community, and unable to find work for a while. He was elected mayor again recently as a member of the Green Party. "I'm happy the president finally joined the 21st century and has recognized the civil rights of these Americans. But until he starts pushing for a federal law, the various Gay-Straight Alliances in any high school in the country are doing more to advance the cause than he is. They're the ones in the front lines."

Thanks for sharing this moving photograph.

Does this mean that Des will never use an iPad? http://olive.columbi...ish-skin-custom

Conversion of the Innocents Bi Janus For John, who at least died unashamed The enervation of the Sacred does not follow from a man loving a man. Shhh! So little time you had in sunlight, most in the shadow of a father’s unkindness. I thought together we would give you relief, but, no, only brief joy overcome by your tears while my heart vibrated between our baptismal trysts. Rather, the impulse precedes shame, until Fathers strike it cold, when a boy loves a boy. Johnno, you thinking my walls passing strange, as from them, surfer boys and Ursula stared, while the eyes from yours, watching us cavort, were above the thorn-wreathed Sacred Heart of Jesus. You were the one abashed when I took your hand on the street, and you never quite believed, even after we mixed it up with that fine young girl. No Holy Writ instructs human love, alas excepting Solomon, but we might find the way if tentative embrace is not decried by shame.

Camy has been very helpful in reminding me of the deep connection between poetry and song. All of my poems have to do with love (albeit mingled with loss, religion, and death) and not a few with sex. Among my favorite songwriter/poets is Steven Merritt, and one of my favorite Merritt lyrics is the song below, especially the lines: "Some of it is just transcendental Some of it is just really dumb"

So, after a hard drive crash on Wednesday, I was in the PDX Apple Store to get another drive installed in my MacBook. The genius at the Genius Bar took the little gem to the surgical suite and began the surgery. I waited close to the Bar near a wall. I put my laptop bag on the floor at my feet and looked at some accessories on the wall. Within three minutes, a very delightful and very gay (at least according to my bidar) young man in a blue Apple Store shirt walked over, smiling, and asked if I needed anything. I said, "No thank you, I'm just waiting for a drive installation." Nice customer service I thought. Over the next seven minutes four more very nice young men, all of whom I assessed as gay, walked over one at a time to and to ask if they could help me. I'm trying to figure out why I warrant this attention from this group of guys. I mean I think I give off the vibe of a straight ex-cop. Then I remember that on my computer bag handle I've placed a luggage tag from HRC with the blue and yellow equal sign. I put it there mostly to piss off any homophobic cops and firefighters I see in the course of training them. Oh well. These solicitous young men were only interested in caring for what they thought was an elderly queen. I'm surprised that one of them didn't ask what I was doing during the riot. At least, that's the explanation I invented.

Many years of working out with Japanese partners in dojos across the US and in Japan have conditioned me to associate hearing nihongo with spurting nozzles, but I wouldn't have risked having German Shepherds involved.