Walton works away on the photo centerfold on our wood cookstove cum desk, Stv sits at one end of the kitchen table typing, Michael Mason sits by his side making typograhphica 1 corrections, Dwight sits at the other end of the table laying out the calendar, Kamala puts away dinner, while James boils water for tea. Meanwhile Purl takes pictures saying "they’ll never believe this when we apply for a grant to build an RFD office". Another issue of RFD production draws to a close as we burn the midnight oil. Thankfully we have our solar powered lights to augment the kerosene. We are grateful to have RFD here at Short Mountain, as it draws the community together creating a focus for our energy. We are thankful for you our readers for the kind words of encouragement and positive strokes you’ve given us, as well as your gentle criticisms and patience while we learn the ins and outs of publishing. As RFD enters it’s sixteenth year, we can happily say it's been a joy to work on. It can also be overwhelming at times, especially when you already have a full schedule running the farm. We have certainly felt good getting the magazine back on schedule- to have an entire three months to get material together for layout. This issue includes a feature section on The Faerie Action Gathering in N.Y.C., which many of us attended. It truly was a riot 1 Recently we were brainstorming about feature sections for the magazine and thought of up and coming Fairy Artists and Craftspersons. For instance, weavers, gardeners, visual artists, dancers, carvers, spinners, photographers, the possibilities are endless. Some ideas for the feature were to interview the artists or have a short biography, and show some of their work. If anyone is interested in being included in the feature, or, better yet, would like to Do the feature, please let us know. We still need other folks to propose features and to do the layout: if you have an idea, please share it with us. As we approach the Harvest Moon we wish for all of you to reap the bounty from the seeds you have planted over the past year and have plenty to share. Enjoy the Fail Issue....
VRFD
is a reader-written jour nal for gay men which focuses on country living and encour ages alternative life-styles. Articles often explore the building of a sense of commu nity, radical faerie conscious ness, the caring for the en vironment, as well as sharing gay men's experiences. Editorship responsibility is shared between the Department Editors and the Managing Edi tors. The business and general production is centered at Short Mountain Sanctuary in rural middle Tennessee. Features are often prepared in various places by different groups. RFD (ISSN 0149-709X) is pub lished quarterly for Jl5 per year by Short Mountain Collec tive, Rt. 1, Box 84A, Liberty, TN 37095. Second class post age is paid at Liberty, TK and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: send address chan ges to RFD PO Box 68, Liberty, TN 37093 ISSN # 0149-709X USPS # 073-010-00 Non-profit tax exempt status under #23-7199134 as a func tion of Gay Community Social Services, Seattle Washington. MEMBER: CCLM (Coordinating Council^ of Literary Magazines) IGLA (Int'l Gay & Lesbian Assoc. ) INDEXED by Alternative Press Media P0 Box 33109 Baltimore, MD 21218
The Shawl Photos which appeared on page one of Issue #57 (Spring), were taken by Bill, Zhora, and Jack.
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R E S E R V E Y O U R C O P V OF T H I S L_ I M I r & D fc£0 I T I O N I T E M N O W . D E L IV E R V IN F OW EACH ( i n c l u d e s p o s t a g e a n d h a n d 1 i n g> UJR I T E - R E D C A L E N D A R F>. O . B O X f c >H L. I B E R T V . TN
"the D ear [ove of Comrades"
SEPTEMBER
R E D ’ S. C A L E N D A R TO USHER IN T H E R E T U R N OF T H E “G A Y N I N E T I E S "
contributors Bird/David Birman........... 29 Adam Christiansen........... 26 Ciere........................ 57 Sr. Missionary Delight 11. . ..32,33,3d,35 Terry Delimont.............. 5 d Laurence Michael Dickson.... dO Donald Engstrom............. Back Cover Giovanni.....................17 Kevin Girard................ d0,d2 Harry Hay................... 36 Hyperion..................... 56 Jim Jackson.................. 50 A1 Jaeger........ 26 Stanley Gail Johnson......... 15 Jon Kozachenko............... 29,30,31,32, Charles & Cherry Lindho'm ....17 Aliza Luick-Thrams........... 23 Michael Mason................ 27 James Merritt............... d6 Brian Mexicott.............. 50 Moonhawk..................... 20 Robert Patrick............... d2 Ceorge Roderick.............. 58 Raphael Sabatini, D. of C....58 Rich ard Paul Schmonsees... . .. 2 2 Star hawk................. Lee Steenhuis............ STV. Mark A . Sullivan......... ...29,3d Ivor C . Treby............ . .. 2 2 Alan Troxler............. Wald en................... Jeff Weinstein........... Word smith......... .......
V O L .X V In o .l
is s u e 59
PUBLX S U E R S
T H e
S h o r t
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V O LU N TEER
o u n t a i n
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D EPARTM EN T
BOOK REVIEWS - Open BROTHERS BEHIND BARS Len Richardson GARDENING - Open GATHERINGS - Herman Strumpf OH KITHCHEN QUEEN - Buddy May AR LUNAR CALENDAR - Moonhawk AR POETRY - Steven Riel MA SPIRITUALITY - Paul Maier FRONT
COVER
"AFRICA" Miss Gay Charleston '79 c by Greg Day BACK COVER
by Donald Engstrom
c
t i v
e
EO I “ TORS
OR
contents / index EOR DIALOGUE AND
Out With the Hillbillies
12 54 5 a
BOOK R E V IE W S
3 €>
The Spiral Path And There Was Light Intimate Connections The Beautiful Room is Empty CONTACT FEA TU R E
F.A.G. N.V.C. Photo Centerfold Remarks for the Stonewall Rebellion's 20th Anniversary The P a i n e in Me E I CT I O K I
It Was Hard But Unsteady The Student Teacher Relationship The Trauma of Loose Fish Land of the Red Buffalo GATHERINGS H E A LTH HOMESTEAD IfSIG
The Garden Granite Greeting Cards Know Vour Wood Volume- “Know Vour Load"
56 57 58 58 5< 3
Terrv Delimont Hyoerlon Cl ere George Roderick Raphael Sabatini D. of C.
2 9 2 ^
Bird/David Birman
3a 3€ > 38
Harry Hay Jeff Weinsein
4 0 4 O 42
4 e>
5 O
Laurence Michael Dickson Robert Patrick James Merritt Brian Mexicott
e> ^ i
2 €» 2e > 27
28
A1 Jaeger Michael Mason Starhawk
4 L_LJM^R Cf^LEMD^R MED I & MEWS ORGf^M I Z A T I OMS RO ETRY
Boy Like Hot Star A Small Thing from Retracing an Obscene Crime James White Review T Y
Remembrance of Things Past The Erotic Sorcerers
2O 1 O
Moonhawk
8 7
22 2 2
22 23 24 15 1 3 17
Richard Paul Schmonsees Ivor C. Treby Aliza Luick Thrams Stanlev Gail Johnson Charles and Cherry Lindholm
□ zm nw m o
RIOTOUS FACS
LE T T E R S TO
Fo FD Dear
RFD,
I s s u e 5 8 was g r e a t ! P l e a s e do what y o u c a n t o maintain t h e flow of excellent fiction. Maybe m o r e s t o r i e s by t h e s ame authors? I want Reams of Fiction Dispatched to my m ai l b o x e v e r y 3 months. RFD i s t h e o n l y g a y publication / read re g u la rly , s o t h e n e ws sumnaries, announcements, e tc . t h a t Ron Lambe u s e d t o a s s e m b l e f o r us me a n t a l o t t o me . Register my vote for the continuation of that depart ment. And d o n ' t forget to Include t h e ne ws o f a n i m a l s fighting back? I find the frequent typographical errors and m i s s p e l l i n g s in RFD d i s tracting, confusing, and a n n o y i n g - - e s p e c i a l l y whe n t h e y occur in poetry or in an a r t i c l e about a s u b j e c t t h a t ' s u n f ami liar to m e . Love and g r a t i t u d e - C h a r l e s Munch
Hi Guys, I t r u l y a p p r e c i a t e your t o g e t h e r e n e r g y in w h i p p i n g RFD on t o t h e t r a c k s a f t e r the move. Even m o r e , I f e l t your h a p p i n e s s in d o i n g i t when I renewed my s u b s c r i p t i o n , a n d 12 d a y s l a t e r r e c e i v e d my n e x t issue! I' m e s p e c i a l l y moved r e a d i n g "A l e x i n t h e S k y , Wi t h D i a m o n d s " by Rand B . L e e . I t ' s c o m f o r t i n g to h e a r f r o m o n e who i s t r y i n g t o e m p a t h i z e d e a t h and s e e it as a j o y o u s release. I colored in th e rainbow p i c t u r e beneath this s t o r y a n d s e n d my l o v e t o t h i s brother. Love, B r i a n Whi t e
Dear
RFD p e o p l e :
Your e d i t o r i a l in t h e mos t recent i s s u e a s k e d what c o u n t r y f o c u s meant to r e a d e r s . In t h e i s s u e s I h a v e s e e n , I get t h e i m p r e s s i o n many o f your re a d e r s live in u r b a n a r e a s but d o n ' t l i k e i t s v a l ues. W h i l e mo s t o f us c a n n o t move to t h e c o u n t r y o u t o f various n e c e s s i t i e s , I enjoy r e a d i n g about e x p e r i e n c e s of what n o n - u r b a n l i v i n g c a n me an f o r t h o s e g u y s who i n t e n t i o n a l l y l i v e o u t s i d e t h e c i t y an d about those g a t h e r i n g s which o ccu r g e n e r a l l y around the idea of "nature s p i r i t u a l i t y " or f a e r i e c om m u n i t y . Recent r e s t u d y of T h o r e a u 's works r e i n t e r e s t e d me i n t h e p o w e r of n a tu re's s p iritu a l value, a s t h i s a u t h o r was m u c h m o r e than a " n a t u r a l i s t . " He m i g h t be c o n s i d e r e d to h a v e had a "gay s e n s i b i l i t y , " if that te rm can be u s e d that far b a c k , though a r a t h e r s o l i t a r y one. The AI DS c r i s i s h a s l e d me t o f e e l that I must live more in t he p r e s e n t and pay a t t e n t i o n to t h e v a l u e s w i t h w h i c h I l i v e now. Pa u l
Kerouch
7his l e t t e r is in r e s p o n s e to y o u r g r e e n c a r d s a s k i n g why I hadn't r e n e w e d my s u b s c r i p tion. Basically, I e n j o y the alternative your magazine o f f e r s to t h e m o r e u r b a n f o c u s e d ma g s o u t t h e r e . I have g r o wn w i t h y o u r m a g a z i n e . But som ething's m issing in t h e ma g a z i n e - - f o r me a t l e a s t . As a Gay man o f A f r i c a n d e s c e n t I want m o r e i n f o r m a t i o n on s u b j e c t s in t h a t v e i n . F . g . , Gay peoples p la ce(s) in A f r i c a n culture, history, spirituali ty, myths, e t c . Black F a i r i e s (do t h e y e x i s t ? ? ? ) ; stories f r o m B l a c k Ga y Me n i n R u r a l areas. I need i n f ormat ion l i k e t h i s f o r my h e a l i n g , n o t o n ly fro m the d i s - e a s e s of Urbanism, Heterosexism, Class i s m o f t h e l a r g e r w o r l d and Ga y c o n m u n i t y , b u t a l s o f r o m t h e E u r o c e n t r i s im o f t h e l a r g e r w o r l d a n d Ga y conmunity. I know that y o u r m a g a z i n e h a s h a d a r t i c l e s on N a t i v e A m e r i can and A s i a n S p i r i t u a l i t y . I kn o w, a l s o f r o m y o u r p o l i c y on P e r s o n a l s , you a d v o c a t e ads o f
an i n c l u s i v e r a t h e r [than ] racially exclusive nature. I know t h a t yo u f e a t u r e poems from C raig Harris, As s o t o Saint et a l . A l l of t h i s is gr ea t - - T h a n k y o u ! ! - - K e e p it up!!! But I want m o r e a r t i c l e s / f o c u s on t h e issues previously stated. I know t h at I f i n d mor e o f a c u l t u r a l l y d i v e r s e f o c u s i n Woman o f Power m a g a z i n e (which I buy r e g u l a r l y for that r e a s o n ) . I f i n d it p e r s o n a l l y i n s p i r i n g i f I can f i n d a r t i c l e s which come f r o m an A f r o - c e n t r i c perspective in a m a g a z i n e w h i c h wo u l d a l s o h a v e a r t i c l e s from Ir is h , Native American, Latina(o), Polynesian, etc. perspective. I woul d a p p r e c i a t e it i f you would c o n s i d e r my l e t t e r a n d r e s p o n d t o i t . In l i g h t and p r o g r e s s , Chris Turner
Good p e o p l e
of
. ,
RFD,
I w a n t e d t o l e t y o u know t h a t a l t h o u g h my name a p p e a r s f i v e times in p r i n t i n t h e s unme r i s s u e my l a s t name was s p e l l e d correctly twice (Girard) and incorrectly three times ( G e r a r d ) - - I ' m not t r y i n g to be p i c k y , b u t I w o u l d l i k e y o u to be awa r e that almost every issue since the location s w i t c h my n a m e is spelled r a n d o m l y o n e way o r t h e o t h e r . Other than the very minor i s s u e no t ed above I mu s t s a y that 1 have enjoyed this sunvner issue more than any o t h e r i s s u e in t he l a s t y e a r . The s t o r i e s : The States of Curtis Lamar, Falling, and Ephrem were e s p e c i a l l y e n j o y able reading. Practically e v e r y t h i n g f r o m c o v e r to c o v e r was very i n t e r e s t i n g a n d t h e w h o l e i s s u e mad e f o r v e r y g o o d reading. I especially appre c i a t e d t h e a t t e n t i o n to d e t a i l in matching artwork with sto ries, po etry, e t c ., at times t h is i s d o n e m o r e ran domly, but w h e n t h e a r t w o r k and w r i t i n g is mat ched c a r e f u l l y it is e s p e c i a l l y a p p e a l i n g a n d h a s an e x c i t i n g v i s u a l impact. K e e p up the good w o r k , a n d many t h a n k s to a l l who w o r k h a r d to k e e p this p u b l i c a t i o n on i t s feet and moving f or wa r d . RFD i s r e a l l y l oo k in g b e t t e r a l l the time. Mos t s i n c e r e l y , Kevin A. Girard
Good people,
RFD,
Dear
I cannot r e c a l l a modern-day s h o r t s t o r y what I enjoyed more than Burt W a s h i n g t o n ' s "The S t a t e s o f C u r t i s Lamar " (#58). This guy has t a l e n t and d e s e r v e s a w i d e r r e a d e r ship. I only hope that the b i g - t i m e e d i t o r s of gay massm a r k e t p u b s o u t o f LA a n d NY w i l l s e e t h a t he i s p u b l i s h e d in the r i g h t p l a c e s . In the meantime, many thanks for b r i n g i n g W a s h i n g t o n ' s wo r k t o our a t t e n t i o n .
I d i d not a p p r e c i a t e h a v i n g to stand i n a ye. L X i o n g l i n e (over 20 m i n u t e s ) because t h e r e wa s a " c a r d " i n my PO Box t e l l i n g me t o p a y p o s t a g e due. Then I d i s c o v e r it's this m agazine. S i n c e you in sist on m a i l i n g things short-paid, causing me to w a s t e my t i m e , c a n c e l my s u b s c rip tio n and refund the b a l a n c e on i t .
Thanks for the many letters expressing interest in tne New Mexico Cav ana Lesbian Home steader's Association. The headauarters has recently changed to Coyote Canyon Ranch near Las Vegas, New Mexico. Our new address is: NMG/LHA, PO Box 957, Las Vegas, NM 87701
All b e s t , Bob D a l e h i t e
W h»i-M Ikur lirjiu
D e a r RFD R e a d e r s , and to a l l of th o se whose letters I've received. I am a c k n o w l e d g i n g my t h a n k s for a ll of the kind letters of warmth and c o n c e r n I have received. I believe these l e t t e r s w e r e a r e s u l t o f an a d / c o n t a c t - l e t ter that a p peared in RFD s p r i n g o r s u n m e r i ssu e. I d e e p l y r e g r e t I haven't responded sooner. I a l s o a p o l o g i z e f o r the i n f o r m a t i o n o n my s e l f that might have b e e n m i s l e a d i n g to b e g i n with. I ha d no i d e a my b r i e f self-d escrip tio n would be printed. I d id have i n t e n tions to s e n d in an a c t u a l c o n t a c t - l e t t e r at some l a t e r date. F o r t h e i n f o r m a t i o n on m y s e l f t h a t a p p e a r e d in one of t h e r e c e n t n e w s l e t t e r s was t o le t the e d i t o r s of the new s letter i t s e l f know a l i t t l e about one o f t h e i r i n q u i r i n g , potential subscribers. My s i n c e r e s t a p o l o g i e s go o u t to a l l o f y o u who h a v e w r i t t e n me . At t h i s w r i t i n g , h o w e v e r , I do n o t w i s h t o t a k e on a n y t h i n g ne w i n my l i f e f o r s e v eral n in th s. I am e n j o y i n g my ne w l i f e w i t h i t s now h o r i z o n s and c h a l l e n g e s . Please under stand. I wa n t a l l of those who s e n t p h o t o s t o k n o w I ' l l be r e t u r n i n g them p r o m p t l y . / again ap ol o gi ze for the m i su n d e r s t a n d i n g , but maybe w e ' l l m a k e contact at s o m e o t h e r p o i n t in t i m e . Thanks a g a i n fo r all the wonderful l e t t e r s ! . . . I s i n c e r e l y wish e ac h of yo u a l l t h e h a p p i n e s s y o u want f or y o u r s e l v e s , a l l the love I y e a r n f o r , an d t h e p e a c e f r o m w i t h i n we a l l need. ' t 1 l then, Sincerely David Smi t h
D.L. Vancouver
Editors note: Sorry about that folks! Issue #56 was four pages long er than #57 and we did not take that extra weight into consideration when we mailed out the first class subscrib ers. o'ohELY it won't nap pen again I
RFD r e a d e r s ,
We apologize for the delav in sending the introductory mater ial, due to this change, a hec tic schedule, ana the remote ness of the computer vwe have The introductory packet and membership form will be com pleted, however, bv the time this is printed. Thanks for vour interest, and best wishes. Stephen Doonan Tim Burke
D e a r RFD, Hey you g u y s , great summer issue! I l i k e the i n t e r v i e w s - - a n d a m o r e RURAL f o c u s . The - c i t y p e o p l e h a v e t h e i r ma n y gay p u b l i c a t i o n s . The d a y RFD becomes a " s l i c k , more u r b a n e " p u b l i c a t i o n w i l l be t h e day I q u i t s e n d i n g i n my s u b s c r i p tion. ( I ' v e got a few " q u i b b l e s " a f t e r r e a d i n g Mr . To wn er s l e t t e r . ) I'v e been a continuous subscriber since issue # 2 , w h e n RFD was a f e w pages from a farm near I owa City. I s t i l l l o o k f o r w a r d to e v e r y S o l s t i c e and E q u i n o x - - a n a n x i e t y w h e n RFD d o e s n ' t a r rive. W i t h o u t RFD a l o t o f rural gay men w o u l d b e v e r y alone. I d o n ' t always a g r e e with e v e r y t h i n g t h a t ' s p r i n t e d , and p e o p l e s h o u l d c r i t i c i z e w h e n t h e y s e e something disturbing. I l i k e RFD b e i n g put t o g e t h e r in an o l d b e e shed! I t ' s t h e Human p e r s o n a l c o n t a c t I f e e l in e v e r y i s s u e , something th e r e is very l i t t l e l e f t o f t o d a y i n c o r mr u n i c a tion. And t h e n t h e r e ' s s o m e t hi ng about f r e ed o m of e x p r e s sion. I f e v e r y t h i n g was w r i t ten f o r the c o n v e n i e n c e of the college educated, following R obot's ru les of o r d e r , it wo u l d b e p r e t t y f u c k i n g b o r i n g wouldn't it? T h e r e ' s my 2 c e n t s w o r t h on t h a t o n e . Ki m f r o m n o r t h e r n
5
Mi n n .
Hello FriendsI am a person living with AIDS in the hills of middle Tennessee who would like to correspond with other PLWAS living in rural areas. The fantasy is to create a network and support for people like myself. Interested’ Drop me a line. Purl Sudds Rt. I Box 8 A-A Liberty, TN 37095
All mail R F D receives will be considered for inclusion in our letters section. If you do not wish to have your letter published, or if you would like your name withheld please let us know when you send your letter. We appreciate hearing from you, your feedback enables us to produce a more circum spect journal.
Here is a listing of ail the places we know tnat host gatherings, some we did not nave contacts for. Please write to the contact listed to get more specific information. If you would like to De a part of this listing please let us know. Urban Faerie Circles can be listed as well. The more we network the stronger we oecome 1
Canaalan Faeries i_es Fees au Canada <en Hi 11 is 56 248 Elgin St., Ottawa Ontario Canaoa K2P ’ >La Chicago Faeries c/o Midwest wen's Center PO Box 2547, Chicago, IL 60690 Ganawango. western NY Jav Stratton 121 Union St. Westfield NY I478? Cray Laov Place <enn Wah1er-Zanghi =>0 B o x 6 II. Blum TX 76627
Northwestern Faeries 1206 1st Ave. #23 Seattle WA 98101 Northwoods John Sutton 2440 Garfield Ave. S Minneapolis MN. 55405 Rainwoocs Skvhawk POB 203. F0fk union
▼ GOLD CREEK
VA 23055
Running Water Center Rt. 1 8 ox 115 Bakersville NC 28705 San Francisco Faeries contact Nomenus Short Mountain Sanctuary R t . 1 Box 84-A Liberty TN 37G95 Southern California Harry Hay/John Burnside 5343 La Cresta Ct. L.A. CA 90030 Willow Hollow Ranch PO Drawer 70 Purlear NC 28665
_'Af farle The Beau Monde PO Box 1583, Pineviile LA 7136) Mid-Atlantic Faeries B od Luoarskv 220 N. Muioerrv St Lancaster PA 17603
October
13 thru 19
A call for sissies, faeries, peace-loving queermen, gypsv shamans, nature spirits $> spirits of air and ali manner of queens everywhere to gather where the Full Moon kisses a hidden place in Southern Cali fornia's Foothills. This gath ering is called to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the first Spiritual Gathering for Radical Faeries. Please send between $85-$l25, as you can, to cover costs. No one will be turned away for lack of funds. Please register and send a $50 deposit to Star Circle. (801 Lincoln blvd. #191. Venice Cfi 90291. For more information call: Tom 213/827-5380 or Harry 213/469-7949. ▼SHORT MOUNTAIN F A L L F R O L IC
Nomenus PO Box 11655 San Francisco CA 9a I0 I Northeastern Faeries (Blue *ieron Farw> H a l "a te im a n
6158 E. 3ratt St., Baltimore. MD 2122a
As autumn approaches you may have noticed the number of gath ering choices diminish. We know there must be Faerie circles that come together in the cities, please let us know about you so we can share them with our readers. Thanks.
Stv
The dates for the Fail Gathering are October 6-15. The Full Moon falls on the last weekend, so expect plenty of PANdemonium. A pre-Gathering work week starts on the 29th of September so think about cumming early to help us get ready. Write SMS for details, or call Gabby at 6 i5/536-5 I76.
▼ MI D- A TL ANT T C ~
F D L FR I E E S The Mid-Atlantic Faeries would like to exist, and lack onlv a space to exist in. Contact us if you know of a good one. We need room for 30-60 people, including a kitchen ard sleeping space for a weekend It should be safe enough ro we can be our faerie selves, running around m drag, screaming and such like. Both secluded rural sites arid urban centers are of interest. It should b? in southeastern Pennsylvania northern Delaware or Maryland. If you have a lead, please con tact Bob Lubarckv at 717/2938 ^6 ? or 220 N. Mulberry St., Lancaster PA 17603. ▼ MIDWEST
M EEM* *5 >
CENTER
The Autumn gathering sponsored by the Midwest Men’s Center will be held November 9-i2 1989 fcnjov Being Yourself" will b e at the Haiwowoods Center near Kenosha. Wisconsin. Contact MMi PC Bo • 2547, Chicago IL 60690.
▼
I NWOODS
A wilderness gathering place in the heart of rural Virginia. Simple basic tent camping only no luxuries, just what is natur ally here. Weekend and week-long retreats individually and col lectively. Planned seasonal gatherings. Visits welcome year round. Nominal gratuities. For additional information and details write to Skyhawk (address in gathering listings;, ana please include a SASE for your reply. Thank You 1
JU ST
IM FROM
TH E
D I S.M
"These places hold gatherings at these times but no official word has been sent to us yetNjOr the aster n Faer ies offer an alternative to going home for the winter holidays. Write them for details. W i H o w Hollow Ranch hosts a celebration on Thanks Giving a time to celebrate our abundant harvests, (see listing for address)
o fgan'Zc't ' ° nS STONEWALL C EL I M E3EEIRS
A new group has formed for Cay, Lesbian and Bisexual rock climbers called the Stonewall Climbers. For years gay climbers have shared the powerful exper ience of rock climbing, but sel dom with other gay climbers. With the formation of this na tional group they can climb together. Write to Stonewall Climbers at PC Box 445, Boston MA 02124, to get on the mailing list for future outings.
L IV I M C E I M LEA TH ER IV
This will be the largest and most diverse gathering of men and women who are members of the Leather/SM/Fetish community for 1989. The goal is to share our common concerns, interests, and technologies. There are 360 odd days of the year to live apart-- onlv the Living in Leather weekend to experience the wonderfully diverse commun ity as a whole. The conference is being held in Portland, Oregon October 6-9, 1989. Write for more details: National Leather Association, PO Box 17463, Seattle WA, 98107 Or call 206/789-8990.
TH E
FSF^C FREED BAND
Tne Sacred Band is a group for gay men exploring their own spiritual transformation, power and love. The group offers fellowship to and suoport from gay men who are on their own spiritual quest, since that quest is unique for each indiv idual our emphasis is on spiritual discovery and growth using personal exoerience rather than dogma. Some planned activities include weekend retreats, cave trips, shamanic drumming sessions, rituals, trips to power spots. Write to: the Sacred Band, Box 13072, Portland OR, 97213.
7
THE
NUDE
EXCHANGE
The Nude Exchange likes to accentuate the positive in gay lifestyle, living, friendship and association, founded by naturist Don Swanson in 1983, TNE for an annual donation of $25, provides membership directories and four issues of its quarterly magazine. Opportumtes for nude communal recreation and comradeship', pen pals', getting acquainted with others, positive gays wno encourage nudity as a wav of life, a means of self and group expression, are all possible with membership. The magazine publishes nude photos of members only: information about individual members: biographies articles and poetry. Places and dates of regional and national gay nude gatherings are pro vided, The focus is on enjoving life and meeting peooie; being upbeat and positive: and the promotion of the lives, his tories, friendships, and com radeship of real gay peooie. wno like to be nude, go nude, and live in harmony with them selves, each other, and nature as nature intended. As a prolific writer for gav and general interest publica tions, alike (including RFD), I sincerely recommend that gay men interested in nude fellow ship; caring friendships and letter or hospitality: and get ting acquainted with other likeminded individuals both in the states and in numerous foreign countries consider joining The Nude Exchange. For further information, please write TNE, c/o PO Box 1624, North Highlands, CA 95660-1624. Those interested ih nuditv as a recreational activity and gay lifestyle, as well as finding new and positive friendships with other gay men, are whole heartedly welcomed.
A N T I PORNOGRAPHY L_^UJ STRU C K DOWN
A child pornography law, so restrictive that it interfered with safer-sex education, has been ruled unconstitutional by a Federal judge. The 1988 Child Protection and Obsenity Enforcement Act, touted bv its proponents as a means of protecting children from abuse by pornographers, requires that publishers and distributors document the ages of all nude models in photo graphs to ensure that they were at least 18 years old at the time the photographs were taken In his ruling on a lawsuit filed bv the American Library Association, Federal District Judge George Pivercomb found the law unconstitutional because it imposes onerous burdens on "material that is clearly protected by the First Amendment.* The law already had a chilling effect on publishing ventures, including a safer-sex guide planned by Alyson Publications. Because of the new law, publisher Sasha Alyson delayed publication of The Safer-Sex p laybook until the law was tested.
ANNOUNCES L A W S U IT
Lambda Legal Defense and Educa tion Fund announced a lawsuit against Walter J. Gallagher, Sheriff of Orange County, Florida, for violating Deputy Sheriff Thomas Woddard’s consti tutional rights, including his right to privacy under the Florida State Constitution. Sheriff Gallagher forced Woodard to resign after mounting an unconstitutional investigation into Woodard's off-duty private sexual actlvi ty.
< = » CALL
During his five-vear tenure with the Orange County Sheriff’s Office, Woodard had been pro moted three times and had re ceived consistently high recom mendations and evaluations by his supervisors and co-workers. In October 1988, Woodard was appointed Deputy Sheriff by Gallagher. Six months later, despite Woddard’s continued exemplary service and profes sional conduct, the Sheriff’s office began to probe Woodard's private life, including his offduty sexual activity. The inves tigation was based on an allega tion that Woodard, over a year and a half before, and while offduty, had engaged in a sexual relationship with a consenting adult male in the privacy of Woodard’s own home. At no time was any allegation made that bore on Woodard’s performance of his job as deputy sheriff. Sheriff Gallagher used the power of his publicly-elected office to conduct an unjustified intru sion into Woodard’s private sex ual life without any connection to Woodard’s performance on the job or conduct in the community. Woodard is suing Sheriff Gallagher for violations of his right to privacy, due process, freedom of expression and asso ciation, and equal protection of the laws. Lamba’s Legal Director Paula Ettlebrick stated, “For too long gays and lesbians, and those perceived as gays and lesbians, have been at the mercy of their employer’s moral vision -- how ever myopic that vision may be. The Woodard case is a striking example of an employer -- in this case, a governmental insti tution -- which spitefully ignored and willfully violated the privacy rights guaranteed under a State Constitution."
ROR ACTION
As we pass the 100,000 mark in the AIDS crisis, the grim out look for the future cautions against any tendancy to grow complacent. We are especially disturbed by Tuesday’s action of the House Appropriations Commit tee eliminating the earmark for AIDS research. This threatens an erosion of AIDS research funds as competition for funding increases. AIDS education and research are our only weapons against the epidemic. There must be unmis takable guidance from Congress on the health needs of the nation. There must be action in the form of continued financial support for AIDS research. There must be a strong Congressional directive that this is a nation al priority. We have come too far in our laboratories -- there are too many promising break throughs on the horizon -- to diminish federal funding now. Every dollar spent todav on AIDS iesearch will save millions of dollars in the future in lost productivity and medical costs, and hundreds of thousands of lives. AIDS must not take funding from other important health problems, and it has not. It is necessary, though, that AIDS funding grow at a rapid rate tc make up the precious time already lost in combatting this epidemic. No other health problem is as new and as serious as AIDS, and none has the same potential for exponential growth in the near future. Moreover, the advances made m AIDS research will open new doors to the treatment of a host cf other conditions. The continued growth of AIDS funding is in the best interest of all Amerleans. Please write your Congresspeople demanding they reinstate the funds for AIDS research.
8
NEWSMORENEWS
NEW YORK
HIGH
“As gavs and lesbians, we must continue to stand op for the civil rights and privacy of others if we ever want to see our own rights protectee," said Eric Rosenthal HRCF political director .
G O V R E L A T IO N S H IP
In a recent decision, New York’s highest court ruled that a part ner in a long-term gay relation ship can take over the couple's rent controlled apartment when the lover who signed the lease dies. The decision has expanded the definition of a “family as it applies to New York's rentcontrol laws. The word is cru cial because state law says oniv “family members" may continue to live in rent-controlled apart ments. The court advised that the definition of ’family members" should include adults who show long-term financial and emo tional commitment to each other, even if they don't fit the tra ditional meaning of a family. The New York decision is the first time any top state court in the ration has recognized a gay couple to be the legal equivalent of a family, accord ing to American Civil Liberties lawyer William Rubenstein. “Today's decision is a ground breaking victory for lesbians and gav men," said Rubenstein. "It marks the most important single step forward in American law toward legal recognition of lesbian and gay relationships." R IG H T F I G MT
TO HRIVACY CON T I NUES
Calling the Supreme Court's decision in Websjter v. Reproductive Health Services a "blow to individual liberty arid women's freedom," the Human Rights Campaign fund (HRCF/ has vowed to continue its fight for the right of privacy of all Americans and lend its support to a nation-wide coalition organized by key pro-choice groups. As gavs and lesbians concerned about eauaiity and keeping the government out of our bedrooms, we are extremely troubled bv the Court1', decision “ said Tim McFeeicv, HRCF executive direc tor. "We will look for opportun ities to educate politicians id support pro-choice groups as .ie battle for privacy now moves from the courts to the legisla tures. "
“The victories we wiint in the courts depend on precedents set in such cases as Roe and Webster, said Rosenthai. “If we want anti gav sodomy decisions like Hardwick overturned, the right to privacy must be upheld across the boaro Following the ruling, HRCF acti vists and pro-choice and women's rights groups reiterated that the key issue at stake in Roe, Webster and Ha rawick is individ ual freedom.
AMNESTY I rs i t e r in ^ vt i o rsiFM
The Gav and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation is calling for people to write Amnestv International encouraging them to add people persecuted for their sexual orientation to its definition of "prisoners of conscience". Currently, those victimized for their Beliefs, color, sex, ethnic origin, language, and religion are included in that group. It s high time that they include gavs and lesbians as people to be protected from persecution and injustice. Please write John G Heaiev. Executive Director. Amnestv International USA, 322 Eighth Ave. New vork, n y toon.
MOB I L_ I ^ ^ T I O fsj
The National Organization for Women is calling for a mass mobilization on November 12, 1989 in Washington D.C. NOW would like to gather groups together from all over the country to underline the over whelming public outrage at the Webster decision and the need to keep a national focus on the abortion rights issue. The major thrust of the protest is to insure that all women will con tinue to have safe, legal, and accessible abortions. Write the National NOW Action Center, 1000 16th St. NW, Suite 700, Washington D.C. 20036 or call 202/331-0066.
O M E R IC A N S W I T H D I S A B I L I T I E S f=*CT
The AIDS Action Council heralded the White House endorsement of the Americans with Disabilities Act as a turning point in the federal response to the chal lenges of the HIV epidemic. For years, AIDS activists and the public health community at large have been calling for federal antl-dlscrimlnation protections to assure that those at risk for the disease would be free to come forward to receive counsel ing, testing and treatment ser vices. The Americans with Disa bilities Act. provides the scope of protections necessary to as sure that people with AIDS and HIV infection, as well as the rest of the 36 million Americans with disabilities, will have access to the civil rights thev have so long been denied. Tom Sheridan, the Councils Public Policv Director noted, "The Administrations endorsement sends a message to the full Con gress that this legislation needs to be on a fast track. Especially with the onset of early interventions, the time for passage is now." AMERICANS WITH DISABILITIES ACT protections it would provide »The Act would applv to the pri vate sector the same laws that now prohibit d iscra minatlon against the oisabled in feder ally funded activities. The purpose of the Act is to provide a clear and comprehen sive national mandate to end discrimination against individ uals with handicaps, including people with AIDS and HIV. The Act would prohibit discrim ination on the basis of disabil ity in areas such as employment, public accommodation, travel, communications, and the activi ties of State and local govern ments. The Act specifically oef^nes discrimination, including various tvpes of intentional and unintentional exclusion’ , segre gation: inferior or less effec tive services, benefits of activities: architectural, transportation, and communica tion barriers’ , failing to make reasonable accommodations, and discriminatory qualifications and performance standards that identify or exclude people with disabi 1 ities.
COMING OUT TR EA TM EN TS N EW SLETTER
The Wellness Network, an mformal organization of individuals concerned with promoting posi tive, alternative approaches in dealing with the physical and emotional aspects of HIV infec tion, publishes a monthly news letter. In the newsletter there are articles about various hol istic treatments, a suggestion of books to read, workshops that are available, and services. The newsletter is free for the asking and the mailing list is confidential. They encourage input from readers as well. Bv sharing information about suc cessful techniques gathered from both medical and holistic sources, and from the exper iences of PWA's , the Network hopes to broaden the options for all affected bv the Cisease. Contact’ - The Wellness Network, PO Box 2d 152, New Orleans LA, 70184-A152.
NEW MED I O GROUP
E O R M S The Lambda Educational Media Opportumtes Ntework, Inc. (The LEMON Group), a Denver-based, nonprofit corporation, announced its formation. According to president Clav Henderson, "Our goal is to create new media opportunities for the gay and lesbian community nationwide." The first project of the LEMON Group will be a nationally syn dicated weekly radio program to be distributed via satteiite. Scheduled for early Octooer, the program will be available to over 1 , 2 0 0 non-commercia 1 radio stations in North America. The program, "Wherever You Are...," will include national news, interviews, entertainment, new talent, features, sports, and special events. Stations will have the option to insert local news and information. "Wherever You Are..." will be available free of charge to non commercial radio stations. T© ensure broadcast in their area, contact the Program Director at your local non-commercial radio station. These stations are usually found below 92.0 on the FM dial.
G < Q » V INFORMATION S E R V IC E
The National Gav and Lesbian Crisisline, America’s only tollfree gay information and coun seling service, has adopted a new, easier-to-rernember, nationwide calling number: 1-800-SOS-GAYS - I-800-767-4269 The Cnsisline, which has been in operation for more than six years, is a program of the New York based Fund for Human Dignity, the national, non profit organization that pro vides and promotes better information about gav and lesbian 1 1 ves. Volunteers who staff the Cnsisline telephones receive intensive training in crisis intervention and general counseling: approximately onethird of the 30,000 calls fielded in 1988 were from persons, especially teen-agers, who needed to discuss their sexual orientation, but were unaware of any other souce of information and support. A computer database of more than 6000 entries, developed espec ially for the Cnsisline, pro vides local referrals to the caller for social support, information aoout AIDS, health care, legal, psychological and other services.
^ I DS ANTHOLOGY S E E K S W R IT E R S
Graduate student Gordon Fluke is in the process of looking for PWA’S who would be interested in submitting work for a collection called ECHOES: Voices of People with AIDS.- Poetry, essays, short stories, or even single state ments are appropriate entries for the anthology. He hopes to publish writings from across the United States showing the far reaching effects of the epi demic. Contact Gordon Fluke at'J.D. Grahame Cracker Press, 1223 E. Spence St., Tempe AZ 85281 or call (602) 829-8197 Be sure to include name and address when submitting material.
1O
GUIDE
“Coming Out to Your Parents" is a 16-page booklet published for lesbians and gay men who are considering coming out to their parents. The booklet, published by Philadelphia Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gavs (PFLAG), identifies six stages most parents go through when they learn of their gav child’s sexual orientation. The stages (shock, denial, guilt, anger, personal decision making, and true acceptance) are described, along with specific ways young adults can assist their parents in each of these stages. The Author, the father of a gay son, relates his per sonal experience and that of hundreds of other parents who have come to P-FLAG meetings. The booklet begins by raising 12 questions that need to be con sidered before one comes out to parents: it also provides an appendix of books and pamphlets to give one’s parents. For a free single copy send a self-addressed, 45« stamped business envelope to Parents FLAG, PO Box 15711, Philadelphia PA 19103
5->E X G A Y
L_ I V E S O E T H E <=»ND B L I N D
What turns blind gay people on’ What kind of sex do they enjoy'' What do thev fantasize about? What turns on their sighted sex partners’ The Guide to the Gay Northeastthe regional gay magazine with the largest distribution throughout New England, the Middle Atlantic, and Eastern Canada- will inaugurate a new scries on gay s e> and the dis abled with a feature on the gavlv blind. If you're blind, or have had sev with someone who is. share your experiences and help cele brate the diversity of gav sex. Contact Bill Andnette, The Guide to the Cav Nor t_heast , PO Box 59 3". Boston MA, 021 9s*. or call 617/766-8557.
CORCORAN G A LLER Y
Z A P P E D In protest to the Corcoran Gallery cancelling the highly acclaimed retrospective exmbit of gay artist Robert Mapplethorpe, lesbian, gay and arts community members held a rally in front of the gallery. On the evening of June 30, the date the exhibit was to open, leaders of the gay and lesbian community spoke out against censorship while slides of Mapplethorpe’s work were pro jected onto the building by a group called the National Com mittee Against Censorship in the Arts .
TH E
E A R TH
We need to involve as many peo ple and groups as possible in the preparations leading to the Earth Concert. We need you! Already thousands of people in ever 25 countries are partici pating in this collective endeavour and more are joining everyday. So if you want to be part in co-creating a world with a future, make a decision, now. Sign the following declaration and mail it to: The Earth Concert. Anse St-Jean, Quebec Canada, GOV 1J0 As a member of the great human family, I recognize that I am personally responsible to care for Life. I know that the health of the Earth, and therefore our health, is greatlv threatened by pollu tion and environmental devasta tion. The time has come to collec tively change our behaviour and attitude towards the environment and to personally empower our selves to make this change. NOW. I therefore declare my commit ment to serve as best I can in this common task of regeneration of planet Earth.
CONCERT
A CELEBRATION FOR LIFE As we aporcach the end of this century, more and more people are becoming aware that some thing is going wrong with the environment. All the signs of a global ecological catastrophe are there and no one nor any government seem to be able to do anything about it. Recently a glimpse of hope has started to shine. This short letter of information is intended to let you know about what you can do to contribute to the solution. A global event called the Earth Concert is currently being organized bv a group of people from various parts of ihe world and you are invited to join them right now. This event will be a televised concert and global telethon to be broadcast live on December 31, 1 ^8 ? all over the world with participation of art ists from all the main cultures of our planet. During this con cert, a short movie will show the evolution of Life on Earth and convey our responsibility to preserve its magnificent ecosys tems for all generations to come. Through a decentralized network of local Support Groups, we plan to raise money to hel a wide variety of organizations presently working to protect and regenerate the environment.
Domestic USA
HEALTH MEW MI M DRUG TFR I A LS
The National Institutes of Health are seeking particioants who are HIV oositive for a study of foscamet for the treatment of Cytomegalovirus (CMV) retinitis. Persons pre viously treated witn ganci clovir (DHPG) are not eligible, for further information regard ing this study, please call Barbara Baird, R.N., (collect) 301/(169-9565.
SPEC I ^ 1_ _ MASSAGE TRAI MI MG
Body Electric School of Massage and Rebirthing in Oakland, California, announces a new 100 hour program training masseurs of people with life-threatening illnesses. "Many of the people who have the most contact with people with AIDS or other lifethreatenmg illnesses lack com prehensive instruction in the kind of touch most needed by and most effective for the oeoole in their care," savs school director Joseph Kramer. The California state-approved training may be completed in a two week intensive or one may take up to a year from the date of registration to finish tne program. The massage training includes both eastern and western approaches to healing touch as well as a special class bv Rav Dyer, one of the most exper ienced masseurs of PWAs in the United States. He has trained hundreds of massage therapists who are presentlv working with PWAs. "Most of tne times that people with AIDS are touched by professional medical people, it is to draw blood or have injections or examinations of some kind. The touch a masseur cr masseuse does with them is healing in a different wav," savs Over. Tuition for tne entire training is 1800. Body Electric offers partial scholarships to volun teers in community agencies working directly with people with life-threatening illnesses Body Electric School is dedi cated to creating a homophobiafree environment for bodvwork training, wnile tne senool is sensitive to tne concerns of Gav men and Lesbians, all persons are welcome. For more information about this program or other Body Electric classes, please contact Body Electric, 6527-A Telegraph Ave. , Oakland, CA 9(1609. d I5/653-159d.
Crystal Balls, Pyramids, necklaces & more in a variety of sizes & stones. Send SASE for free price list. KAMALA
Rt 1, Box 84-A Liberty, Tn 37095
♦o
A C A L L TO R D IA L O G U E
RFD has received many responses to Jack Davis' article titled 'Molested" which appeared in the Summer issue #58, we have chosen to put them in a seperate section titled A Call for Dialogue . Uie encourage those of you who have opinions on this matter to write and share them with us. Thanks. Short Mountain Collective
want and e mpowe r t h e m to s a y y e s o r no w i t h o u t a n y f e a r o f p u n i s h m e n t or b l a me . To t e l l k i d s that s e x is d i r t y , that masturbation is bad, that h o m o s e x u a l i t y is wro ng, that t h e y h a v e to f e e l as ha me d and g u i l t y about t h e i r f e e l i n g s , I c o n s i d e r to be s e x u a l e x p l o i tation. I t h i n k that the harm is not in h a v i n g s e x w i t h m in o r s , but in m a k i n g th em f e e l shame f o r i t . S o , what a b o u t an RFD i s s u e on man b o y love? In f a e r i e s p i r i t , a n o t h e r J a c k Davi s
Dear
RFD,
I read Jack Davis' a r t i c l e "M o l e s t e d " i n #58. Then I we nt b a c k an d r e a d what h e was referrin g t o I n #5 6 a n d i t s eemed p r e t t y tame. I do n o t know the circumstances of D a v i s ' c h i l d h o o d and do n o t want t o mak e j u d g m e n t s on how awful I t wa s f o r h i m t o b e m o l e s t e d at ag e 4. H o we v e r 1 t h i n k t h a t he n e e d s to p l a c e some o f th e b lam e f o r that s u f f e r i n g on a c u l t u r e that e n v e l o p e s s e x u a l i t y in shame as w e l l as o n e t h a t b l a m e s t h e victim. 1 think t h a t it is unfortunate that Davis sees all s e x u a l contact b e t w e e n a d u l t s a n d m i n o r s as e x p l o i t a tive. 1 ha d no s e x u a l e x p e r i e n c e w i t h an a d u l t whe n I was a child. If l had, perhaps I would f e e l d i f f e r e n t l y a n d p e r h a p s my l i f e w o u l d h a v e been b e t t e r . I do know o t h e r f a g g o t s who, whe n t h e y w e r e boys, ha d s e x w i t h me n . Some a c t u a l l y sought it o u t . These faggots speak p o s i t i v e l y of their e x p e rie n c e . In t h e o u t r a g e c a u s e d by h i s m o l e s t a t i o n , Davis is d e n y i n g the t e s t i m o n y o f o t h e r g a y men. Yes, I t h i n k that the p o s s i b i l i t y for exploitation exists wh e n a n a d u l t h a s s e x w i t h a minor. There are d e f i n i t e power d i f f e r e n c e s . However, b a s e d o n my e x p e r i e n c e s a s a f a g g o t boy r a i s e d in a s m a l l town i n I l l i n o i s a n d f o r c e d t o go to C a t h o l i c s c h o o l , I can s a y t h a t l am mo r e c o n c e r n e d a b o u t the wa r pe d and t w i s t e d way that we t e a c h c h i l d r e n about s e x u a l i t y than 1 am about a d u l t s having sex with minors. We s h o u l d b e teaching c h i l d r e n h o w t o t a l k about sex, how to ask f o r what t h e y
♦ ♦o
f i r s t sexual e x p e r i e n c e s was w i t h a man 15 y e a r s o l d e r t h a n I ( I was 1 4 ) . I was e x t r e m e l y horny, lonely and scared. T h i s man was a f r i e n d , h e d i d n o t "c o e r c e " me i n t o a n y t h i n g I d i d n ' t want to d o . I t was the f i r s t time i n my l i f e w h e r e t h e t h o u g h t o c c u r r e d to me t h a t m a y b e b e i n g q u e e r c o u l d be O. K. I l e a r n e d a lot f r o m hi m. That b e i n g q u e e r is about love. Wh e n a l l o f my a d o le s c e n t f r i e n d s were just w a n t i n g to cum and t h e n p r e t e n d t h e r e was n o t h i n g m o r e to it than the a c t . I learned t h a t c u d d l i n g c a n f e e l j u s t as g o o d as c u r r mi n g . Al so I tend to no t s e e t h e wal l t h a t has b e e n p u t up b e t w e e n t h e a g e s , y o u n g e r or o l d e r . Yes t h e r e is c h i l d a b u s e - -b ut I see a v a s t d i f f e r e n c e whe n t h e r e i s consent! I live in a s t a t e f a m o u s f o r i t s "p r o g r e s s " i n p r o t e c t i n g e v e r y t h i ng f r o m a n y p o s s i b l e harm. It's just the very b e g i n n i n g s o f s t a t e w i t c h hunts, armed with troops of c l a p trap p s y c h o l o g i s t s with plenty of B.$. degrees. Wes tern p s y c h o l o g y i s a c r o c k o f s h i t i n my b o o k , o n e b i g m i n d fuck. As f a r as NAMBLA g o e s , I d o n ' t k n o w w h a t t h e y ' r e up to. Mayb e s o m e o n e f r o m NAMBLA
I must a g r e e with the r e a d e r in t h e summer i s s u e wh o i s c o n c e r n e d with your a c c e p t i n g a d s f r o m NAMBLA. I strongly a g r e e , a n d w i l l n o t r e n e w my s u b s c r i p t i o n un til this matter is d e a l t w i t h in a f o r m a l p o l i c y m a k i n g way. My g o d , t h e w h o l e b a s i s o f ACLU a n d o t h e r d e fe n s e of u n r e s t r i c t e d co n sensual behavior between a d u l t s r e s t s upon t h e s t r o n g est p o s s i b le d efenses against involvement of c h i l d r e n . That is the p o l i t i c a l r e a l i t y . You c o u r t d i s a s t e r with your maga z i n e w i t h NAMBLA. And d o n ' t m e n t i o n t h e G r e e k s ; An e x t r e m e s e x i s t e x p l o i t i v e society we have l e f t far behind. They castrated their eunuchs, r e member? If, and w h e n , y o u have thought through this m a t t e r a n d acted u p o n i t , let me k n o w a n d I ' l l e n t e r a new sub.
should w rite in a b o u t the organization? I ' m 3 4 no w, and I look back w ith fo n d n ess towards t h a t o l d e r man. By t h e way I do n o t go o u t l o o k ing f o r young b oys. The " p s y c h o s " would have you b e l i e v e that having been "e x p o s e d " t h a t I wo u l d e v e n t u a l l y b e c o me the s o - c a l l e d m o l e s t e r .
Thanks , Ri c h a r d
T e a r down t h e wa l l Ki m f r o m n o r t h e r n Mi n n .
D e a r RFD,
RFD,
I t h i n k a l o t o f what J a c k Davi s had to s a y in " M o l e s t e d " #58 was a c r o c k o f s h i t . But I want to s a y f i r s t that I t h i n k any k i n d of m o l e s t i n g s t i n k s , b e i t s o me k i d o r t h e m o l e s t i n g of Mother E a rt h . The p a i n J a c k t a l k s o f f r o m b e i n g m o l e s t e d is v e r y r e a l . What I h a v e a p r o b l e m w i t h i s the idea that a ll b o y / man r e l a t i o n s h i p s where sex is i nv ol ve d cannot have a n y t h i n g g o o d come o f i t . One o f my
With r e g a r d s to t h e letter f r o m t h e man who s u f f e r e d t h e h u m i l i a t i o n and e x p e n s e of e n t r a p m e n t by t h e V . S . f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t , I s h o u l d p o i n t out t h a t h e is n o t a l o n e ; n o t o n l y a r e NAMBLA m e m b e r s t a r g e t s o f e n t r a p m e n t , b ut so a r e me mbe r s o f t h e Gay l e a t h e r c o r r r m n i t y , a n d a n y o n e who p l a c e s a n a d vertisement i n a Gay p u b l i c a tion. Ever s i n c e the Reagan regim e, b a c k e d by th e s o c a l l e d Moral M a j o r i t y , took
1
p o w e r i n 1 9 8 0 , we h a v e all s u f f e r e d not only loss of r i g h t s but e n t r a p m e n t . I'm n o t a me mb e r o f NAMBLA, n o r do I h a v e an i n t e r e s t in un de r aged youths. I a m, h o w e v e r , an a c t i v e m e m b e r o f t h e Gay leather conmunity, and o n l y t oo f a m i l i a r w i t h t h e a t t e m p t s the f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t makes to entrap leather people. A l s o , Gays in C h i c a g o a r e undergoing in t e n s ifie d a t tem pts at e n t r a p m e n t , w ith federal agents answering p e r s o n a l a d s i n t h e Gay n e w s p a p e r s , and t h e n a r r e s t i n g the p e o p l e t h e y c o n t a c t on c h a r g e s of p r o s t i t u t i o n . I personally b e l i e v e t h a t , as l o n g as a l l parties in a r e l a t i o n s h i p a r e c o n s e n s u a l , then the natu re of their relationship is their o wn b u s i n e s s , not anyone else's. while I do n't pret en d to u n d e r s t a n d e v e r y t h i n g a b o u t my Gay brethren, p e r s e c u t i o n an d e n t r a p m e n t o f a n y o f t h e m both a n g e r s and s c a r e s me. Gay b a s h i n g , o f w h i c h e n t r a p ment is o n l y a s l i g h t l y l e s s v i o l e n t f or m, is h a p p en i n g a l l around us. As l o n g a s it ha pp e n s to any o f u s , i t h a p p e n s t o a l l o f u s ; and as l o n g as we s i t b a c k a n d do n o t h i n g , t h e n we a r e a g r e e i n g t o i t . Joe
Br i d w e l l
I was s e x u a l l y m o l e s t e d f o r y e a r s whe n r a t h e r y o u n g by my parents' Episcopal p r i e s t . He a i d e d my p a r e n t s in b a t t e r i n g me--and s e v e r e l y so. I am 61 y e a r s o l d and u n t i l j u s t t h r e e years ago I had n e v e r been able to g e t any e f f e c t i v e p r o f e s s i o n a l h e l p b e c a u s e the p e d o p h i l i c p a r t o f my l i f e was not b e l i e v e d . This i t e m ha s b e e n - - u n t i l now--not b e l i e v e d , e v e n by mos t o f t h e m e d i c a l profession. T h e y wo u l d d e a l wi t h i t b y c l a s s i f y i n g i t as paranoid thinking/delusional tendencies. It is o n l y v e r y r e c e n t l y that I h a v e c ome t o understand the full impact t h a t t h i s t r e a t m e n t h a s h a d on njy l i f e - - a n d I am a n g r y a b o u t 1* • I t s e r i o u s l y i m p a i r e d my relationship wi t h al mos t a l l p e o p l e i n c l u d i n g my a b i l i t y t o t r u s t almost an yone . For any a d u l t to u s e a c h i l d in any »ay f o r any p r e t e x t sexually to s a t i s f y themselves will a l m o s t a l wa y s w r e a k h a v o c w i t h the c h i l d for the rest of their lives. As l o n g a s y o u print/accept ads f r o m NAMBLA y o u g i v e a t l e a s t s ome c o n -
s e n t / c r e d e n c e to t h i s k i n d o f behavior. I was d i s m a y e d a n d puzzled t h a t y o u wo u l d p r i n t s u c h a s p u r i o u s and m i s l e a d i n g article as: L e t ’ s S t o p Crime by Raymond L a t h a m i n i s s u e #5 6 ( w i n t e r 8 8 / 8 9 ) w r i t t e n by a p r i s o n e r who i s s e r v i n g a l o n g term for the crime of having s ex with m in o r s . The a r t i c l e a t t e m p t s to g l o r i f y and u p h o l d this lifestyle. I f you f e e l t h e same w a y , then let RFD know a b o u t i t and w r i t e . I l e n d my s u p p o r t t o J a c k D a v i s ' a r t i c l e on t h i s s u b j e c t i n t h e last issue. I have been a continuous long-time s u b s c r i b e r t o RFD, s i n c e 1 9 7 6 . It is an i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f my l i f e ; i t is t he o n l y gay p u b l i c a t i o n that I have e v e r s u b s c r i b e d to. I both a p p r e c i a t e and enjoy it. I do n o t know why o r how e x a c t l y , but i t s e e ms l i k e and f e e l s supportive to my l i f e and I want i t to b e . Ralph
E.
White.
Dear R F D - F o r t h e m a i n l y s t r a i g h t man in T e x a s who f o u n d h i m s e l f a t t r a c t e d to a v e r y h a i r y man, p e r h a p s Be.a.11 m a g a z i n e , "for b e a r d e d and h a i r y men and t h e i r f a n s , " may p r o v i d e a means of m e e t in g s u c h . On another s ub jec t r e c e n t l y d i s c u s s e d in RFD, the e mo t i o n a l / p h y s i c a l c o n t a c t b e t w e e n me n an d b o y s , I f e e l or believe the following: That in som e c a s e s it is appropri ate to the boy's n a t u r a l d e v e l o p m e n t in p h y s i c a l l i f e . If it is u n c o m f o r t a b l e or p a i n f u l f o r the boy ( a s i d e fr o m p o s s i b l e i n i t i a l n e r v o u s n e s s or u n e a s i n e s s ) it is not appropriate. Whe ther or not it is appropri ate at any p a r t i c u l a r a g e d e p e n d s on t h e i n d i v i d u a l b o y ' s i n t e r e s t s an d d e v e l o p m e n t at that a g e . ( One man I know says he was s e x u a l l y m a t u r e at 6 y e a r s , whi ch I f o u n d a l i t t l e d i f f i c u l t to b e l i e v e . ) I was s e x u a l l y m a t u r e at 12 y e a r s , and was b r i e f l y i n v o l v e d w i t h a man i n h i s t w e n t i e s a t t h a t time. My p a r e n t s f o u n d o u t , were h o r r i f i e d , t h e man censured into escape and obscurity. I ha d e n j o y e d t h e group of e x p e r i e n c e s with t h is ma n , b u t i t was c o n s i d e r e d by my p a r e n t s that I had b e e n sexually abused. I am s t i l l a n g r y at t h e i r r e a c t i o n , and feel sorry for the man. I » 3
t h i n k t h e r e is a g r e a t deal of variation in t h e s e k i n d of r e l a t i o n s h i p s , and I do b e l i e v e some o f t h e m a r e or can be m u t u a l l y e n j o y a b l e a n d / or b e n e f i c i a l . I have n o t , in my a d u l t l i f e , b e e n i n c l i n e d to have a r e l a t i o n s h i p wi t h a b o y o r v e r y y o u n g man, n o r am I a member o f any o r g a n i z a t i o n oriented to t h i s , but I can u n d e r s t a n d t o s ome e x t e n t how s u c h p e r s o n s f e e l and d e f i n i t e l y b e l i e v e no b l a n k e t c o n de mna t i o n is w a r r a n t e d . Thank yo u . C h a r l e s Do n o v a n
RFD ’ n po Iicv on carrying { NAMBLA’s ad i>j that we oo not want to censor different view points of the Cav community. we want to acknowieoge tr>e diver sity of that community, we i don't want to silence then •right to freedom of expression. Let us not mirror the persecu tion that heterosexual society exercises on Cav people, bv persecuting our own brothers.
HOT AND CHEEKY!
^ CAI_ _ I_ _ ROR DIALOGUE CONT T NUED
R F D received the following letter recently and we wanted to include it in the new sec tion *A Call for Dialogue'. Several readers wrote awhile back requesting a section of the magazine that coulo be de voted to dialogue on issues that are affecting our commu nity. Here’s vour opportunity to write and offer your per spective on these issues as well 3 s propose other topics for our readers to consider. We hope you will take advantage of this vehicle for expressing opinions on issues that are important to vou.
Gentle Readers, As a self identified radical faerie, my exploration of what that means and how I, in that g u i s e , can c o n n e c t to the whole of life has recently entered some dark and scary places. One of these is un derstanding how growing up in a family with an alcoh o l i c father has shaped the patterns of my i n t e r a c t i o n s as an adult. I have discovered, in moving through these revela tions, that many of the per ceptions and feelings I have attributed to gay oppression and my own homophobia are, in fact, p r o d u c t s of being an adult child of an alcoholic ( A C O A ) . Issues that I had thought I could leave behind have followed me into my adult faerie life. Having grown up in an environ ment of constant instability and intimidation, part of my search has involved finding safe spaces where I c o u l d process the emotional discon nection I have felt for much of my l i f e . I had read, heard, and been led to believe by the propaganda that faerie space might be one space where I could do so in some safety. Instead of a supportive atmos phere, I have found much of the same dysfunctional behav ior I am trying to put behind me. If we define the faerie network as one of "family," which I did for many years, I found that I had replace the co-dependence of my biological family with that of my adopted "faerie family." My "father" has returned in the guise of the many faeries I have met who are actively chemically
who are actively chemically d e pendent or who acti v e l y abuse alcohol. I find the co dependence of my "mother" in the many of us who actively and passively support a struc ture (or lack thereof) where d y s f u n c t i o n is named "free spirit." I also find myself as a child in the guise of the many of us who are in denial that this d y s f u n c t i o n a l b e h a v i o r e x i s t s in " o u r f a m i l y ; " sh u t d o w n to the assaultive reality that we are experiencing.
EROTIC CERAM IC GIFTS Celebrating the classic beauty of the male form. FR EE BROCHURE ON REQUEST Department 16
VIEWPOINT GALLERIES Post Office Box 460928 San Francisco, CA 94146-0928
NURTURING NEWS The Q uarterly Fo r N urturing Men
I have witnessed us avoid this subject when it is named in circle after circle. I have seen us remain silent when our "faerie broth e r s " are c o n fronted by assaultive behavior from each other. At our net work gatherings, I have felt the invalidation I felt as a c h i l d repeated, every time someone who is ACOA has dared to name behavior threatening to them, only to have name behavior threatening to them, only to have their fear and pain dismissed as not appropriate responses to the dysfunction they are experiencing. As a part of my own healing, I cannot remain silent any long er. I cannot live in fear and confusion any longer. I must name the d y s f u n c t i o n in my life now to break free from those patterns that were set in my dark past. Just as I must go back to my biological family to heal the wounds that were dealt there, I must also confront the same incapaci tating patterns in my present life among my faerie friends. I have met many others within the network who are involved in similar ACOA healing pro cesses. What I am asking for is a sincere dialogue among us, faerie-identified or not, t h rough RFD, so that I can draw on our common experience to get the support I need in my own struggle. I also hope that this dialogue will help break the silence about this set of i s s u e s . A silence w h i c h , I fe e l , k e e p s the faerie network from attaining its full potential and keeps each of us locked in our own emotional vacuums. Michael Blake 605 E. Burlington Street No. 2 Iowa City, Iowa 52240
I-a
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XERO X MONTAGE BY D W IG H T DUNAWAY
by Stanley Gail Johnson
T
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worn out trying to justify one against another, without ever realizing that these are all dif足 ferences amongst people, not different "kinds" of Magick. Some people would insist on a dis足 t i n c tion, at least, b e t w e e n what m ight be called ceremonial and natural Magick, but this, too, is a false distinction: even "natural" Magick requires movement or action with purpose or intent, and intentional acts are ritual or " c e r e m o n i a l " by their very n a t ures. More simply stated, "Every intentional act is a Magickal act."
devoted to Magick was exciting to me. "This," I thought, "is perfect. Here's a subject I know something about." So I tried like crazy for over a month to write a "fascinating and deep article on Magick, and of course all that came of it was garbage, nonsense. It's always best to write about what one kjnows, not what one has heard. I've done a great deal of read足 ing on Magick and Magickal subjects, but it's my experiences, whatever they may be, that make the matter real to me. Most books on Magick raw all sorts of artificial distinctions beween black" and "white" "agick, and witch足 craft, and voodoo, and Sc .nism, fetishism, animism, shamanism, paganism, and who knows what other-isms. A person can get totally side-tracked trying to sort them all out, or
T have tended away from the highly ritualized "operations" of ceremonial Magick, whether in the Western Magickal or in any other Tradition, and tended toward "ritualizing" every possible moment, bringing into conscious awareness to as
I
great an extent as possible the Dance of the Particles that is our universe. I have found one of the most effective, and simplest, ways to bring Magick into my daily routine, down to the "mundane level," has been through a garden. All the activities of horticulture (the plant ing of seeds, weeding, fertilizing, pruning, harvesting, etc.) are the purest metaphors for Magickal activities--and plants in general are sensitive and responsive to the subtler ener gies of man's intentional acts, so that it is almost inevitable that every garden become a holy place, a shrine. The very acts of garden ing themselves invoke the deities of Nature. But it is still necessary for the Magician to discipline himself, and to train himself in his rites, whatever form those rites might take. And an indispensable tool to this end is a well-trained memory. One classical metaphor for the trained memory is a well-ordered house. This is expanded upon as a mansion with many rooms, and in each room many places in which to put things. The individual using such a "mem ory system" memorizes the layout of the mansion and all its places, and is thus enabled to remember a great many things, by the simple process of associating various ideas with the various numerous places in the mansion which has become part of the mind. Some authors sug gested the further association of images of striking-looking or even fantastical characters with the various places of the mansion, as aiding in making the places more memorable. The "hard part" of this or a similar system is the memorization of the mansion in the first place, but it is achieved through the simple process of repetition, rote memorization. When I first read about the Art of Memory in Dame Frances Yates' book The Art of Memory, the subject was interesting to me, but it also seemed distant or old-fashioned somehow, and more than a little intimidating. Dame Frances described several Astrological and Qabalistic systems in a context of memory systems (or "mnemonics"), but I didn't really make the connection. It wasn't until several years later, with a few re-readings of the book as well as further reading elsewhere and much contemplation and finally forgetting about the whole business for a while, that some things began to come clear to me. I understood how the Zodiacal system is a memory system, with its Mansion of Twelve Houses, each house di vided into three decans, each decan divided into ten degrees, and with specific ideas and things associated with each of these numerous places. There are even striking images associ ated with each of the 360 degrees of the Zodi ac. So, too, I understood how the Qabalistic Tree of Life is a mnemonic system, with its Ten Sephiroth and 22 Paths, each Sephiroth itself divisible into a Tree of Ten Sephiroth and 22 Paths, and all the places with specific ideas and things associated with them. When letters of the a l p h a b e t are a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the "places" in a memory system, it becomes pos sible to spell out words or names (in fact all w ords are names) by c o n n e c t i n g p a r t i c u l a r places, and this is the origin of a great many sigils and symbols used in ceremonial Magick: the tracing out of a name, or the design which spells out a name when placed on the appropri ate "Magickal square," is itself the invocation of a spirit. I've spent over 15 years studying Astrology and the Qabala, and reading Tarot, and one thing
that struck me about the process of learning each of them was that the business of memoriza tion or repetition lead to a quantum leap. In each case I was forced to go back to basic elements over and over again, learning a new set of symbols and drilling it into my brain. But then one day, and completely unspectacularly, I would realize that I had started putting previously unconnected elements together and making sensible complexities. Like playing with alphabet blocks and suddenly starting to spell words. It occurs to me that the only real factor in volved in training the mind is repetition-practice and time. Repeating something until you remember it. We've most of us trained ourselves in the same way several times over already, what with learning to see objects, and to name them, to speak grammatically, to read, to write. These are all Magickal operations, acts of the will, and we are dealing with the essence of memory itself, the associating of symbols with ideas and events. All the weighty Magickal dicta (for instance, "Know thyself," "Explore the River of the Soul, whence or in what order you have come," "Invoke often," "Change not the Barbarous Names of Evocation") can be reduced to the one word "Remember." It is a dreary business, watching as we must, if we are to keep ourselves abreast of global affairs, the sorry way the Christians, Jews and Muslims carry on with each other and amongst themselves. Their dogmatic disputes make parts of our planet very dangerous places to be, even for people not affiliated with any of their faiths. This is all the more a shame because their faiths share so much common ground. Some time ago I came across a passage in the Qur'an which is of interest, in reference to the role of memory in Islamic spiritualism. In Sura XVIII (the chapter called "The Cave"), Moses and his servant, Joshua son of Nun (that is, "son of the fish"), are traveling in search of the Confluence of Two Rivers (where the Waters of the Upper Firmament meet the Waters of the Lower), which is a Fountain of Life. They are carrying among their provisions a roasted fish (we will hope it is not the father of Joshua). The reach the Confluence, the spot they seek, without realizing it, and Moses falls asleep. Joshua washes himself in what is in fact the Fountain of Life, splashing some of the Water of Life inadvertently on the fish, reviving it. It swims away in the Fountain unnoticed and the two travelers forget about it, moving on a bit farther until Moses (appar ently becoming hungry) thinks to ask about it. They find it gone, and get to thinking back, mentally re-tracing their steps, and realize they have gone past the place they sought. Returning to the spot, the Confluence of Two Rivers, they are greeted by the Green Man (also called the Two-Horned), a servant of Allah who initiates the solitary mystic. (He bestows the green mantle of Elijah, the mantle of prophecy, and provides the solitary religious, who is unaligned with any orthodox faith, with legiti mate mystical experiences. He is a figure identical with Hermes as Guide of the Soul, or the Hermit in the Tarot deck, or Dionysos as patron of actors.) That experience, of suddenly realizing one had gotten to where one was going some time ago, is, I think, consistently the experience of
ie >
those subjecting themselves to any yoke of discipline, whether mystical, Magickal, artistical, or technical. The same is probably true of all efforts which require practice: the first order of business is action, and repeti t i o n of a c t i o n . Dance teachers, acting coaches, and yoga i n s t r u c t o r s alike have drilled into my mind: first your do the exer cise, later you think about it. And you do the exercise over and over to the point of forget ting why you' r e doing it, w i t h o u t giving thought to how you are doing," concentrating only on the process of what you are doingl Delivering yourself, as Crowley would say, from lust of result. And suddenly you discovery that for some time now you have been achieving whatever it was you had set out to achieve. The story in the Qur'an contains all the ele ments: Moses is walking, that is performing ritual perambulations, which he performs to the point that he "falls asleep" or forgets him self, and is thus enabled to attain a further initiation. In the words of the Qur'an, he forgets so that he may remember. And the stage of reflection, or remembering, is preceded by the stage of working. (Note that the words "working" and "operation" are both technical terms for the Magickal Act, and Goetid means
simply "working," as Theurgy means "sacred work," both of them older terms for the prac tice of the Art.) I should of course acknow ledge that other levels of interpretation exist for the Qur'anic anecdote, among them the re membrance by the Soul of its divine origins. But it is as Robert Graves observed, the more levels of truth you can find for a symbol, the greater its Magickal power will be. I would not be mistaken for an apologist for Islam, any more than for Judaism or Christi anity, I would only observe that it should be easier for them to get along than they make it appear to be. Any spiritually-minded individu al of one of the cults could find beautiful and useful imagery in the study of either of the other two. After all, they are all of them the children of Abraham. And Abraham was a Friend of God (that is, Allah), and a Magician, one of our brothers. This puts us in the position of maternal uncles to these bickering patriarchal cults, and it is traditionally our role &S. uncles to instruct our nephews in the secrets of our Craft. "Not knowing that every God fruitlessly vigilant."
is good,
ye are
F ROTIC by Charles & Cherry Lindholm reprinted without permission from Science Digest— September 1982
raped in a beautiful batik sarong, her glossy black hair elaborately styled, the singer sways sinuously across the stage. Bells at her ankle tinkle as she moves. "She's just like a princess!" a man in the small Javanese theater whispers in awe. "I'd like to marry her!" Her face is as painted and impassive as a smil ing doll's as she begins her childlike but provocative singing and dancing. To the people looking on, she is the epitome of feminine desirability. IL L U S T R A T IO N G IO V A N N I
BY
"And to think that she's tators cry in amazement.
I7
really a man!"
spec
The delightful creature who has so excited the admiration of men in the audience is, in fact, a male performer playing his customary role in the traditional Javanese theater of ludruk. The first written records of ludruk date back to 1822, but some claim it originated as early as the thirteenth century. Indeed the appear ance of such performers is neither new nor restricted to the island of Java. The are part of the cultural history of Japan, India, the Middle East, Polynesia, Classical Greece, Medi eval Europe, to name but a few; and even in modern-day America the female impersonator is a fairly familiar figure, both on stage and off.
these Western cross-dressers has any sanctioned social role to fill. Ostracized, scorned, ridiculed and feared, the man who cross-dresses in the West has been the unhappy scapegoat for Western culture's horror of sexual ambiguity, a horror intensified by traditional Judeo-Christian moral values. But while our society views cross-dressing with strong distaste, other societies have different attitudes and may offer the cross-dressing man an accepted and even respected role. Among the nomadic Turco-Mongol tribes of Sibe ria, for instance, men who don women's clothing are regarded as frightening and powerful crea tures who have control over the supernatural. These men are the shamans, or witch doctors, of the community. The shaman's attire makes him appear to be neither man nor woman, but rather a living metaphor for his mediating role as a highly respected healer who stands between man and the spirit world. In this case, cross dressing is more a ritual than a psychological act; the uniform goes with the job. It does not necessarily imply effeminacy or homosexual ity, though in certain tribes, however, the cross-dressing shaman not only has a wife and children but several mistresses.
While he may retain his feminine identity off stage, and even sometimes acquire a husband, the Javanese ludruk performer's appeal to his audience rests precisely on the fact that he is a man in masquerade. "some men want a fantasy, not a real woman," a Javanese explained to anthropologist James Peacock, who describes ludruk in his book Rites of Modernization. The ingenue character in ludruk performances ap pears soft and docile, while the actual Java nese lower-class wife is likely to be tough and aggressive, ruling her husband with an iron hand. In retreat from such an overbearing wife, some Javanese men do occasionally fall passionately in love with the romantic illusion offered by the performer and, it is said, have even abandoned their families to pursue the homosexual affair. But the main attraction for the audience remains the performer's embodiment of sexual a m b i g u i t y - -which f a s c i n a t e s the Javanese.
The male witch doctor in women's clothes can also be found in such widely separated places as Malaya, the Celebes Islands, Patagonia, the Aleutian Islands and among some North American Indian tribes. In certain of these american Indian tribes, especially those with a warrior ethic, such as the Sioux and the Crow, another type of cross-dresser exists, one who is not a shaman: the berdache, probably the best-known example of such roles. Traditionally, a teen age Indian boy was expected to make a solitary pilgrimage into the wilderness on a quest for a vision from the gods that would show him what path to take in life. Some boys received vi sions in which they were instructed to become berdache. Such a boy would return to his home, don women's clothes, take up women's work and be accepted by the tribe as a woman. In other cases, a boy simply grew up as berdache.
Other societies, however, may not find such ambiguity so intriguing. In the West, for instance, the man who dresses as a woman has always been considered an aberration and an outcast. In the Middle Ages, he was thought of as an erotic sorcerer, who used a blasphemous feminine disguise in order to infiltrate con vents and seduce the nuns. Only later did cross-dressing become identified with male homosexuality. Although cross-dressing behavior has long been known in the West, the technical term for it— transvestite, from the Latin transvestire, dressing across— is of recent origin, coined in 1910 by Magnus Hirschfeld, a contemporary of Freud. While in Java there seems to be only one type of cross-dressing, psychologists have divided men who dress as women in Western cul tures into three separate categories. The first is the transsexual, a man who feels him self to be a woman trapped in a male body. The second is the effeminate homosexual, whose occasional imitation of women involves satire and hostility. The third type is the so-called true transvestite. Unlike the first two, he is not a homosexual, but a heterosexual man who becomes sexually stimulated by wearing women's clothes. Sometimes the true transvestite's imitation of women can develop to an extraor dinary degree. Notes Johns Hopkins University psychologist John Money: "It is possible for impersonation to be so effective that one is hard pressed to believe that the person to whom men feel erotically attracted in the role of 'Brenda' is the same person whom women fall for as 'Bob.' " R E S P E C T E D Whatever
the
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Some social scientists have theorized that the boy who became berdache did so because, con sciously or unconsciously, he found himself unable to live up to the image of the brave and fearless warrior, the only male role these martial societies offered. In some tribes, berdache did go to war but were allowed only to carry provisions or to use clubs. In the ab sence of other, less demanding, masculine iden tities, the berdache option could be chosen with no shame or opprobrium. Once accepted, however, the position of berdache was for life. But permanency is not always a feature of the male-1iving-as-female role. In Oman, a small Muslim country at the southern end of the Ara bian Peninsula, men can slip in and out of the role of xanith as they wish, sometimes spending their youth as homosexual prostitutes and then abandoning that role in favor of marriage and family, only to return (in a few cases) to the youthful life-style in later years. This al ternation is not considered at all strange, and former xaniths are not discouraged from marry ing. Although such a man may still retain various effeminate characteristics in speech and movement, he will be regarded as a normal male as long as he is able to perform sexually with his wife. To the Omanis, who seclude
1B
their women behind the walls of purdah com pounds, the d e f i n i t i o n of a pian is quite simple: the active partner in sexual inter course. The passive partner is automatically either a woman or a xanith. As Norwegian an thropologist Unni Wikan notes about the Omanis in her article "Man Becomes Woman" in the an thropological journal Man, "It is the sexual act, not the sexual organs, which is constitu tive of gender." S E X U A L
Like the Omani xanith, the Tahitian mahu may, at any time, abdicate his role, marry and raise a family. Or else he may elect to remain a mahu his whole life. The community will accept either option as perfectly natural. Whenever a new mahu is needed, one will eventually come forward. Although the villagers understand the role of mahu to be God-given, they take care to ensure that there will be no shortage of candi dates. From an early age, certain young boys are gently encouraged toward the role by their families and neighbors, and the most suitable boy automatically becomes the new mahu, to his parents' great pride.
S T A T U S
Unlike the berdache, who in effect changes into a woman, the xanith is regarded as a third sex, neither male nor female but with characteris tics of both. Under Islamic law he has all the rights of a man, he goes by a masculine name, and he accompanies men to the mosque for wor ship. But he does women's work in the house hold compounds and on festive occasions joins the women in singing and dancing. His appear ance reflects his ambiguous sexual status: he wears the man's long tunic, but tightly belted at the waist like a woman's; his hair is neither long like a woman's nor short like a man's, but of an intermediate length; he goes bareheaded, although both men and women cover their hair. Interestingly, he is legally pro hibited from wearing women's clothes and can be imprisoned and flogged if he does so. The harshness of this punishment indicates the importance of the xanith's place in Omani soci ety. Wikan hypothesizes that the xanith, as a inale prostitute, serves to protect the virtue of Omani women, who, ideally at least, are supposed to be absolutely pure and isolated in their homes. There are, in fact, a few female prostitutes practicing in secret, but their services are both expensive and illegal. The xanith prostitutes, on the other hand, are plentiful, cheap and permitted by law. If a xanith were to dress as a women, however, he would no longer be preserving women's purity since he wou l d be sul l y i n g their image in public. Several factors contribute to the prevalence of the xanith in Oman (Wikan estimates that 1 out of every 50 Omani men is xanith). One is sexu al unavailability of women. Another is econom ic; poor people in Oman have very few ways to earn a living. Being a xanith provides a man with two paying occupations, prostitute and domestic servant. Respectable Omani women may not be seen by unrelated men; the xanith, as a non-man, is the exception and therefore allowed inside the c o m p o u n d s to do d o m e s t i c work. After several years working as a xanith, a poor man may have saved enough money for the large bride-price demanded in Oman, and he may then choose to assume the normal male identity and become a respectable married householder. In a certain sense, then, being a xanith can be seen as a legitimate method for achieving upward mobility. U N I Q U E
has one, and only one, mahu, a man who dresses as a woman. If the position of mahu falls vacant, a replacement will appear, but as long as the position is filled, no one else in the village can become a mahu. "It isn't the na ture of things, two mahus in one place," people told psychologist Robert Levy. "Only one. God arranges it like that."
C R O S S - D R E S S E R
Things are far different in Tahiti, where men have not trouble living up to the easygoing standards of male behavior. In fact, men and women's lives are remarkabl" similar, and Tahi tian sexual mores, unlike hose in Oman, are lenient, with no emphasis on female purity. In this relaxed tropical setting, the pattern of cross-dressing is unique: each Tahitian village
This admiration is largely for the mahu’:; skill at performing such feminine tasks as housework, quilt-making, looking after babies and braiding palm leaves into thatch. In fact, the vil lagers will define the mahu as a man "who does women's work." This is not, however, the only characteristic that differentiates the mahu from ordinary men. Though many of the older villagers do not like to mention it, he also acts as a passive homosexual and is, in fact, the only homosexual in the village. Young men who have had occasional sexual relations with the mahu say, "One isn't ashamed. You don't put. any particular importance on it.... For you it is just the same as j f you were having intercourse with a woman." Sexually available women are not hard to find in Tahiti. Unlike the Omanis, therefore, Tahi tian men have no need of the mahu as a sexual outlet. Nor are his domestic skills a necessi ty. He is not a shaman, as in Siberia, nor is he a fantasy figure,as in Java. His position can hardly be seen as a convenient escape from the overly harsh male identity. What, then, is the role of the mahu in Tahitian culture? A clue to the answer lies in the extraordinary fact that there is only a single mahu per vil lage; thus, the mahu's role must be symbolic rather than practical. Robert Levy, in his book Tahitians: Mind and Experience in the Society Islands, hypothesizes that the mahu serves as a symbolic marker. Because men and women are so much alike in Tahiti, there is an absence of a strongly defined masculine selfimage. But, through comparison with the mahu, Tahitian men can assure themselves of their own male identities. The unconscious logic is: "Since T am not the mahu, I must be a man." N A R R O W
B O U N D A R I E S
The presence of such a symbolic marker permits a wide range of male behavior. Fven extreme effeminacy does not disqualify someone from being regarded as a normal man, and there are many such men in Tahiti with wives and chil dren. Other cultures, our own included, are not so tolerant of effeminate behavior in men. Some anthropologists have suggested that this very intolerance in fact pushes men who are "womanlike" into homosexuality, since they have no place within the narrow boundaries of the culture's traditional male image.
I< ■ »
Our look at male cross-dressing illustrates that people everywhere are products in which they were raised. Cultural norms can vary considerably from one place to another, per mitting the individual a greater or lesser amount of leeway, particularly in the area of sexual identity. Through looking at other societies, we can see that sexuality is flex ible, multifaceted and by no means as rigid as was once thought. The man dressed as a woman
It*
•
is always a symbol of ambiguity, but his role in society is not always the same, and the mixing of sexual identities that he represents is perhaps not confined to him alone. Charles Lindholm, Ph.D., author of the book Generosity and Jealousy: The Swat Pukhtun of Northern Pakistan, teaches at Columbia. Cherry Lindholm has an M.A. in psychology.
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I hope all of you made it through the hot scorching days of summer. With the intense solar activity and high ultraviolet radiation, I hope you didn't get too much overexposure to the sun. It caused a lot of mutations in the plants. I found as many as 16 four leafed clovers in one week. Well, in the fall quarter of the year we're going to have a lot of activity. October will begin with Saturn reaching the southernmost point of its orbit. The last time it was at this point was 29-1/2 years ago. This occurs on the 2nd. On the 3rd, the crescent new moon will conjunct Venus and provide us with a beau tiful sight. The morning of the 10th just b e f o r e dawn, we'll p r o b a b l y have our best chance to see Mercury. It will be low in the east just above the horizon. That evening, Venus will conjunct the star Delta Scorpii. On the 14th, the moon will be at its closest point to the earth and will cause the strongest as tronomical tide of the year. The evening of the 16th, Venus will conjunct the star Antares. In the early hours of the morning of the 20th,
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bright moon. The will cc njunct Satu the hor izon. Merc above he horizon On Christm as mo rning, if will qe t to see ti moon just above Mars. The morning of the 30th, if you are up before dawn, you will get to see Mars conjunct the star Antares. It will give you a chance to compare the red planet to the red star. It will be about two years before you will see this again.
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both Saturn and Neptune. The morning of the 16th, the Leonid meteor shower will visit us, but since this is only a few days after the full moon, we probably won't be able to see it too well. if you are up before dawn the morn ing of the 26th, you will get to see the waning crescent of the old moon conjunct Mars.
Well, that's about all for this time. I hope the fall will bring a bountiful harvest from your gardens so that there will be plenty to serve during the holiday season. Until next time, may love be the wind beneath your wings.
December will start off on the 1st with the crescent new moon conjuncting Venus for the third month in a row. On the evening of the 13th, the evening after the full moon, you'll see the moon rise just below Jupiter. The evening of the 14th, Venus will be at its greatest brilliance in the evening sky. That same evening, the Geminid meteor shower will be passing through our atmosphere; but as it has been with almost every other meteor shower this year, it will be pretty well blotted out by the
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Boy Like Hot Sta r f3V
R I C H A R D RÂŤLJL_ S C H M O N S E E S
Eurn into me like hot scissors on freshly fallen snow. Haunt me, for it is your face I love. Your dirty hair brushed back like an echo, a secret music I cherish. Your red nipples like cherry stop signs. Your butch lisp and popsicle penis. Your mother's caring you wear, brushing ghostly past me as I go to buy New dreams among the decay. I cannot have him I know. He is memory passing through me like silk, A hot star whispering shoot me shoot me out of the night sky.
A Small Thing *i B V
IV G R
0 -
r R E B Y
i asked a small thing, that before you went you'd let me hug you; standing at the door jacketed, ready to go, you turned to me once more you never questioned my intent but opened wide your arms and drew me near till i was breathless in a deep embrace your dark-curled head pressed close against my face it was your deep charity that caught my breath there in my littered room above the busy street four or five seconds of my life and yours rescued from time's abyss, the moving floes of our two polar torrents briefly met and froze, forever unassailable and complete
from Retracing An Obscene Crime BY
ALIZA
L U IC K -
THRUMS
i walked last night to the wild willows, the slough just past the north fence, i saw the warren where rabbits run, where we youngins chased dizzy winter tracks, sure we'd catch a stewer. Our coats snagged on dried thistle trunks, bits of summer clinging to squealing chests. We'd run, sure of stewers, never catching anything but colds, slivers under dirty nails.
II i walked last night to the Knoll which rests in the gut of Ashlawn Farm's black yeasty torso, i stood atop it, seeing to the edge of an unwalled cosmos, yet fields, groves, sky elbowed out a world beyond downhome understanding. Naked Iowa prairie, the unnerved earth held up my aching feet. Atop the Knoll, i saw Grandma toss hollow sugar beets up to Grandpa in the crowded wagon, the pair sweating for harvest cash. The day was cold, bright light gray: 11 November, 1918. Stiff beets thudding against paintless boards, bells began to peal from town: the Kaiser's crown had fallen. From the same Knoll hired hands watched, standing in humid summer stillness as on the horizon brown curtains fell, dirtying a Depression-weary Ashlawn Farm. Before puberty's uninvited onset, i roamed the Knoll with Dusty, the golden haired retriever at my side. A farrowed sow angered to ugly rage fell forward; i saw Dusty block the hog, me behind him — at least a precious leg, if not a sacred arm saved from her maddened piggish mouth, i sighed. III
i walked south to the north edge of Benner's Grove, to Ashland Farm's south fence, i stood beneath the cottonwood canopy, waiting for silky threads to squeeze free of bursting pods. None came as they did on late summer days, days when fluffy white showered down, me wondering who'd released it. I stood there by the woven wire, bare barbs jutting out to leave hair-hidden scars on tender hides. Standing there beneath topless pines, cottonwoods tail with age, i heard an Irapala packed with pious Methodists — their faces clean of choretime traces— brake, the Sunday morning pilgrimage stopped before it really started cause some gilts or heifers or blocky cows pushed through the woven wire, i saw us chase gilts and heifers and blocky cows. A scream, a curse, a strangled giggle piercing the air, each knowing the sweetness of missed sermons and of stray cottonwood threads. lying there, caught beneath the weight of time, trapped under Elijah Ford's pioneer plow, throwing open in 1856 the matted prairie sod which now coddles broken, dying ashes. Distracted by the innocent rompings of unknowing children, unaware of Wall Street or Pennsylvania Avenue, Mama sleeps. Cornered by the misery of our muted wailing times, chased. . . The phone rings. It's 11:1*5— a quarter to midnight. How can this be, i want to know, how can a phone ring at such an hour in any civilized land, i see Mama jump, startled. Her man gone, she gropes for her faded polyester robe and a pair of smudged glasses. Dazed, she feels her way to the screaming phone, no children, no lambs there to cushion her battered ears “rom shrieking bells. Hello, i hear her manage, who it is. It's the sheriff's office with the latest news it's all over, we are done— Ashlawn Farm has been forec jsed.
2 3
The summer 1989 issue o f The Jam es W hile Review features photographs and text from Epitaphs For The liv in g : Words And Im ages In The Tim e O f A ID S by BillyHoward. Also in thisissue
are short stories, poetry and book reviews. The Jam es W hile Review ispublished four times a year. The summer and winter issues contain book reviews along with the entaining fiction and enticingpoetry.
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Among the fine artists and writers that have appeared in The Jam es White Review in the past slx years are . . . . Franklin Abbott, Steve Abbott, Ken Anderson, Antler, Tommi Avicolli, David Bergm an, R obert Boucheron, Louie Crew, Gavin Dillard, John Gilgun, Robert Gluck, Richard Hall, Essex Hemphill, Andrew Hudson, Ocean Johnson, Kevin Killian, Michael Lassell, Stan Leventhal, Peter McGehee, Carl M orse, Edward Mycue, Scott O’H ara, Robert Patrick, Robert Peters, Felice Picano, Ron Shreiber, Donald Vining, Ian Young, Tom Young and hundreds m ore. Isn’t it time you submitted or subscribed? See the subscription blank for details on dividends that sustaining patrons receive.
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The eastern way w'rth a vtsia is to frame it, riot always formally, as with agate, tu t perhaps with something lfoot arree or upright stone^ or ore side, apaving dr qroumdcover below, a. horizontal branch above. Sim ilarly, hiding some of the vista peycnd a carve allows foie braimtopresume more thorn the eye sees, thus increasing the sense of depth. Every carder has its mint- vistus; the. tricKjs ir relaiirq them lb each other and to the larger landscape. I Twenty years aqn / pushed through deep forest to an O verdraw n hiqn field. Enchantecr by its voluptuous con tours ana varied vistas, l bought it and proceeded to divide, and conquer i f into rettanqles of pasture, or chard, veoetmiepetc. Good thirtyl didn't have a bulldozer. . „ . . y u.'" , ~ cnaAiae lies tr little beqirm rgs.Scdts snaKegarden, FFP Summer 1985 enedumged a. ten tab ve curyemthe bath through my vegetable name n. In 1937 the whole garden becamea curve, and last year a new garden was added with a path extending the curve. m 1939 more fruits, berries, asparagus; rhubarpperennials and herbs will be re-am up 6d to carry this paththraudh the orchard to the top of the. field where til mate a berth under the branches cr some old wh'de pines. At thatpoint the boundaries between orchard ard hardens will beqcmc. Where the soil is best the garden will bfoaden into sicre. paths. Fruit trees will relate tv thepath rather than to a grid. The curves of the path willin teg rate with ex isting sbme walls, trees amd buildings. J The path will embrace the contours or the land arddnlkwilhits vistas. A U aegty Deerfield, M. i-l.
EDITOR : SCOTT LUSCOMB
GRAPHIC BY ADAM CHRISTIANSEN
? €>
HOWEVER, that fall provided me with a practical reason to further my stone-dreams. I lay there in the mud and closed my eyes, and saw, as if in a vision, a wide stone walkway; steps, to accommodate the sloping incline of the hill.
G r a n it e
G reeting C ards
IT was some days later that I began working on the walkway. Six months passed before I felt I'd done a good job. I have envisioned doing more work there, but time and circumstance have thus far prevented my doing so.
■ some thoughts and insights into stone engraving |
by Michael Mason
MY first engravings were for my old ancestors. At RunHua Farm, my first carvings were a part of the walkway. A line from a Phoebe Snow song stuck in my mind, and seemed altogether appro priate for Running Water— a place where people (men) come to heal themselves of the abrasive world. "Have Mercy On Those Men With No Feelings.* LATER, I added another on another stone:
1 ine from the :;ame song
"Have Mercy On Those Who Fight Till They're Spent; So long and hard They forgot what they meant." DENIS Melba'son, creator of the Shawl, had died in 1983 or 1984; Stacy Brother lover died in early 1985. (Stacy's death prompted my return to the faerie network; I'd been seduced by school and The World and had lost many contacts with the faeries. Stacy's dying made me re evaluate my priorities.) BOTH these men had had active— and not to say 'dramatic'— roles in the early days of PunWa, and of the faerie circle which hubbed from there. New people were coming along, for whom Denis and Stacy were only names. r felt sad that they might be forgotten altogether, so, I decided the least I might do would be to chisel them each a stone. It seemed an appropriate way to embrace them, keep an active remembrance of their influence alive and visible. These first stones I carved, and hid up in the pine grove. 'Hid' because I feared memorial stones might be seen by some as too lugubrious and earthly. When Ron (Lambe) found out about them, he was enthusiastically supportive of my spending the time to carve them; for their importance in standing as a token to the memory of the persons they represented.
As
a child, rocks and stones fascinated rne. Western North Carolina is particularly rich with granite deposits, so I had, at hand, abun dant materials for contemplation.
BUT I let my father cow me--he saw me out struggling to move some stones and came out to remind me of other work I had to do but had not oone. That, and his attitude, was enough to persuade, for about 25 more years, that there were better things to be done with my energies. YET the dream didn’t die.
rniLir
moon was getting together _ ______ i u u d j or remembrance during the summer or fall gather ing; Ron mentioned my stones, and as their creator, I felt very honored that they formed the basis of the ritual that night. People put the stones, three of them at that time, to gether, and surrounded them with crystals and pine boughs while we worked the memories of those persons.
IN 1984, I was in North Carolina, fanatically involved in genealogy. Many of my families have lived thereabouts for 8-10 generations, so genealogically, western North Carolina is a n c h m other lode for me. Some of my older cousins accompanied me to old graveyards, casu ally pointing out where Uncle So-and-So was buried; Grandma Duch-and-Such. I felt so sad— only ordinary anonymous stones marked their graves. This sense of injustice proved to be the genesis of my stone working.
I never 'hid' the stones again, for I realized, rather than being viewed as lugubrious, people 3ppr_gco ated this slim means of remembrance. No carved stone can ever replace the living vital ity of a PERSON, but lacking that, a carved stone helps to hold an image of that person close. I guess this was the reason people began to mark graves in the first place--because the name carved into the rock which marks
IN 1985, I moved to Running Water Farm. One rainy morning I was hurriedly running out of tne house to the john dowr :he hill. And did w at i and countless other, had done countless times--slid on the narrow, muddy path, barely escaping injury. 2
7
the 'resting power .
place'
evokes
a certain
curious
I am by no means to be considered a profession al stoneworker. Look at any of my engravings-X've never found enough talent to move beyond merely amateur scratchings. But I have been deeply impressed with how it FEELS to write on rock. The hammer and chisel become the ulti mate in poetics— the chisel feels like an ink pen, but an ink pen driven by the hammer in my other hand. No poetry was ever live this for me. With the aid of this hammer and chisel, the stones became more, somehow, than mere rocks. They became Granite Greeting Cards. IT is never easy for me to carve a memorial marker for someone I have known and loved. Images of that person cloud my eyes and take over my thoughts--I think of them--things they said or did, and I let these strong emotions guide my imagination and hands, so that some what of my affection goes into making the stone r e f l e c t i v e of t h a t p e r s o n ' s s p i r i t and vitality. IN 1987, prior to moving to New York City, I carved a tombstone for myself at RunWa. Why? I wasn't sick then, but I fear a bus or AIDS might overtake me, and I wanted, at least, to have a commemorative stone at RunWa, having done so much stonework there. (This rock is face-down on the alter in the pine grove, and w i l l be set i n t o p l a c e w h e n I h a v e discorporated.) A few people have been interested in learning all I can teach about stone, hammer and chisel. I wish there were more--more I could teach, and more people interested. There has been, for me, very little as satisfying as using hammer and chisel to write on rocks. Especially now, in this age of overwhelming techrtology is it satisfying to do such a work by hand. OTHER than memorial markers, there is a wonder fully light side to rock-carving. A couple of people have commissioned stones for themselves, and these have been a joy to create. It re quires a real sense of humor to instruct an engraver what to write on your tombstone. It requires that you can look at your life and death and LAUGH a little. BUT, still, my favorite stone carvings have nothing at all to do with death. I left a note for my friend, STV Kendall, at Short Mountain: "STV— Sorry I Missed You. ^
(fi) ."
"Laughing is what it's all about. Learning to laugh. Otherwise these are terribly grave matters.* "Calling to mind PAYGELE baker of Breads. Giver of Head." (•later I will add: "SELF-RISING"*) "RAPHAEL SABATXNI, embroiderer to the Empress, Dutchess of Columbia."
KNOW YOUR WOOD VOLUME cKNOW YOUR LO A D ’ by
GRAPHIC §Y WALDEN
w
TO V M s w i 'j f -
STA R HAWK H V#) ■ A practical guide for A . cord of hardwood with diameter will contain solid wood/logs.
< fairys alikeB to 8 inches in cubic feet of
Another unit of measure that is often used and even less well-defined is: 'load.' A load is simply a truckload of wood/logs. A 'good load' is when the woodsman who cuts and delivers your wood really likes you and appreciates the busi ness you give him and/or really enjoys the things you do for him when he cums--oops! comes with his load of hard, throbbing— that's hard wood. Oh! what the hell— "whatever." Now you know your volumes and your loads and the real 'trick' is to always be nice to your woodsman! Many people don't know what they are buying when they get wood for the fireplace and/or woodburning stove. Many don't know what they are doing when they cut and deliver wood, either. The best way to be sure you are getting what you expect is to see it (the wood/logs) stacked and measure the stacked dimensions. A cord of wood is a stack: long and 4 feet deep.
4 feet high, 8 feet
A 'rick,' 'face cord' or 'fireplace cord' are all different names for the same thing. They measure: 4 feet high and 8 feet long, but their width is "whatever" the length that the logs were/are cut. While stacks of wood/logs with these dimensions qualify as cords or ricks, the actual amount of wood/logs in the cord will vary. Some volume will be taken up by air space be tween the pieces of wood/logs. The actual amount of the wood/logs will then depend on the straightness of the wood/logs--whether it is split or round and the size of the wood/ logs. Whether or not the woodsman is straight or gay really doesn't matter too much; but the amount of air space between his two ears does.
P 8
fe s C U ^ t
F. A. G. N. Y. C.
Mark A. Suli ivan
VW is io n s o f the faerie action gathering Ithaca and New York
June 1989
By Bird/David Birman
one a ^ S f„LEND!D Your voice is splendid A spark of the zap I got for ten days A spark of the healing that flowed and flowed between us and the circle And to the heart and beat of every faerie prancing the planet today At this Danby sunrise Of my soul I felt you zap me And it threw me back into bed with Don My love briefly three years before His voice was your soft tune splendid And we burrowed in the dark sheets after sex And told Cinderfella stories and laughed At our own drying sweat and cum and groggy 3 AM voices In Durham NC as it spun around the globe I love your voice splendid spark Your drum beat sure wide body Grounded in a big way You huge loving man You make me leap up up up to the highest sight of love Splendid man When I hug you Love explodes beneath some faerie’s feet
tw o I met a gypsy in my soul A Cheshire man A smile like he was disappearing And he was in my car and later in the tent The night before and the day of The gathering has begun The healing night rain Flood of my dry body Cheshireman you make me drink you I am wet again We arrived at 2:15 AM Too late To pitch a tent You took the passenger's seat I was strapped in like I'd been all six hours since New York Our bodies pitched over the emergency brake and the horn I wanted to see your body but I didn need to It was alright to be holding you over the shift Hitting the horn with your foot And with the flick of e inside light I eyed your black storm of a chest of hair Disappearing like your smile That’s when I knew I would come all over it And have yours on mine To protect the vision and touch And I would rub it hard and Then in the darkness of the predawn coming birds awake I had to hike up past the house And you trailed behind to help me set my tent On this land like a partner You were willing and intent and sleepy A cat would never follow that close Unless I had food and I did I had more love for you to be nourished More love The bottomless pit of my sex More love and you smelled it coming Sean the Goddess is gracious And you are just graceful And you make me feel the same And everyone you touch will realize it in himself
three In the circle behind the house on Lieb Road home unworked weedy safe Nourished magic
2>
Familiar real Faerie land
muddled pothered Pother (Gentleworried TomTom don’t lose sleep or time for us We'll nourish this land as we traipse it to death We’re here and the potties work too) I thank you for sharing 'it Tom You generous being I bow graciously to your beautifully Ungroomed smile your handsomely careless laugh I thank you for it all And I salute what is here now as the gathering has begun
fo u r The next night I was deep and safe in my four-season down bag Alone and asleep and alright When in a dream I heard: ‘ AGNES! AGNES! AGNES! It was not alright Someone was attacking him People were running And I leapt out the tent door and saw the flames But by then we all knew there was no one inside No dead melted body witchfaerie or other Just the plasticglop of a melted tent But the fire was tall and I put it out with water from my jug And we all stood by the muddy smoking embers now Agnes too Back from some midniaht wander Whole quiet softbreathing easy No one was hurt no one was hurt Everyone is safe thank the Goddess thanks thanks The next morning That Girl Wore and dumped a pile of burned drag Right smack in the center of the circle Charred and melted heels And a bit of glitter left at the toe The rest shot up to heaven in the night's flames And torn ripped dresses wigs and gloves Clothes I’d seen before Being worn touching faerie bodies Now a heap of glop like the Wicked Witch melted Agnes you are so stupid and beautiful and silly! How could you ever be so dizzy? Leaving candles akimbo in a plastic bomb of a tent To fall over and combust with hairspray and Brilliant gobs of drag and the sparks of bitter dishy love In your sleeping bag and wherever else you were Letting it all catch fire and all be destroyed? I love you But I hate the chaos that let this happen And the pile of melted fabric Is the explosion of this gathering A new kind of action askance Not direct We are no heavies We are not ACT UP But we are unleashing being unleashed And the fire was the power that we feit But didn't understand Agnes I love and hate What you infect me with That this gathering sparked in all of us Some crazed need to destroy and rebuild to dream A burning a riot a shot right over the rainbow Harry looked at the charred drag Harry sat nobly in his chair No less stunning for a loss of hearing Harry you gripped us at that moment It was what you had said a million times or once before A trillion or none Beside you listening looking up Some girl in a mop head wig nodding looking down And Harry you told us how hard it would be This is the first but not the last Faeries on the streets and not just in the woods Carrying that torch that purse melted or no A look you are too telling You were right whatever you said Now Gabriel stood in the circle Holding my talisman (Come on not mine any more I’ve given it up to the magic going around And he added his) Exploding like the tent had Trembling It’s been building all these weeks Now here it is Now hear this What we're doing is perfect This is inevitable Don't try to fight it We're hurtling forward I'm exhausted by it I'm going with you Take my cloth talisman (not mine) My little piece of shock clown glow colored cloth Just another rag I'm full of rags I sprout odd-colored ever-hoarded (it's my drag) ecstatic rags And do it and do it
five
Jon
Sean this is a journey Home to you I feel like growing your beard Letting your hair run down To my knees More vamp than Cher A tree of hair And black as your beauty in the night Morning noon aftersup' it’s all the same And a face like hers long and hollow And the main ingredient especially when it smiles Yours is almost as wide I can do it I can do Cher (Yours just widens till it vanishes I can't hold onto it nor you Nor this campy moment) Show me your cum-smeared sex-sticky swollen stained Jeans and geez it’s big Back home in there Give it to me all over under over my clothes And all I'm wearing is And all I had to do was touch your ear I want to rub you all Kozachenko my black silk rituella toga over me again I'm healed I'm cleaned And there's no place like this Overdue underused and so so hard I guess I’ll miss you most of all I'm ready now You were able to control when you came To the second to me You sexgod Your creative lust is infinite In or out of your simple black skirt Prancing the camp Slinking in and out of arms and kisses Everyone I hope got a taste And if not I’m sharing you now And thanking you Irish sperm and a Columbian egg Made a Florida fruit The best crop they’ve ever had l drank you in the morning like juice I craved you at night like the thirst of the night’s fast You are in me No matter how I might want to deny it I’ll piss you out and start all over again Squeezing it out of you again again Cheshireman This poem is your faerie name One word each letter of the alphabet You absorb them like the looks of anyone Who knows what’s good or bad for them You're more than words But now it's all I have to hold you by I’ll keep it I’ll keep it And afterwards you put flowers on my tent door There’s no place like But you sent me home
s ix Danby Stella Roscoe Tappan Riverside Boerum Home The places I saw The skies that were all full moonlit The air that mixed with my passion The hills and valleys of a New York summer night My foot Flooring the gas The moon made me speed Craving
to be where the faeries would be Circling soon in the great East Village Opening the circle of the Great Action Gathering I was so intense I gagged on the FAG I limped home to Brooklyn because this is where Really really Ever ever again
3 O
Charas Center East Ninth Street Near Tompkins Square Park In a dark room in the back And on the porch the courtyard Open to the tenaments Hundreds of faeries busy claiming space We chanted and drummed all afternoon We pulled sheets of tin and empty cat food tins Out of garbage pails and junkyards I found a part of a curtain rod And knocked it against the steel rods over the window The rhythm doubled with the echo off the buildings Young women in tank tops Leaned farther out to see us We undressed more The beat scattered the air It was easier to breath in the noise Then we quieted and circled We were large and sexy It was difficult to hear When a siren shrieked across 10th Street An ambulance spinning across this hurt city Drowning our stories and focus We all shrieked back And we wailed so hard that we drowned the siren We became the siren Our wings fluttered and spun like the hot rubber wheels Of the screech backfire machine We giggled as we did it Lips bright and wet as we did it Opening wider to the shattered love of the heart of the city A fire in the belly Or maybe someone was run over Or had a heart attack Or yes was shot And we won’t save them but we will talk with all the rest I resolved to stay hard all week In the streets and the stalls In public and in bed That makes me scared but I'll lift my dress I’ll wear no underwear I feel like dancing I'll suck cock instead or in addition And I’ll be yours forever
eight Isis Judy Istarte Erika Demeter Bette Alexis I chant it with my arm locked In yours like a brkle You are the bride the Angel Gibreel Your other arm holds the sun Your sungod drag Orange glowing plastic Where did you get that? I met you after the others You seemed even more firmly rooted A faerie fixture Clownman harlequin Pierrot Face pressed smooth against the kissing air It loves you Adoration surrounds you No matter how concealed you seem I never understood your smile We talked at cross circles There was an awful period of silence A year or more Is it over? Am I forgiven and what for? Are we equal to it Can we rejoin the circle As one? Are we remarried Like all faeries should be wed Brothers the minglings of spirit A wink and a kiss Before the inevitable bitch and dish? I always envy your drag Honor your presence High or low Let's get mean and nasty Let’s dish then I'll know we re tight And when I’m gone you can say everything You’ve been saying And I’ll do the same But when we hold hands again in the circle Let it be alright let the heart let it flow Because I want it Because I love you so
nine I'm high so high and hot For half the men here And half the men I was hot for aren’t even here yet Like my Cheshire he's disappeared But I’ve freed him And that's a joke Let me be civilized I've acknowledged his freedom" And I've taken my turn-on elsewhere right here In the circle safely And the goddess is the least of my idols Around and around the circle It grew bigger as we spoke Lovely faerie men Delicate sweet dark and light Tall big short fat thin Water and dust faerie dust for eyes Faerie eyes alighted Swollen the circle and my cock Two tents of life Ache and yearn The power throbs among us We ll both shoot off now The circle as it builds on our beauty An explosion of love And me later with you In succession or all at once I’ll melt you Dissolve and reform you God of light fuckluck laughter Ten We hit the streets We caught the rhythm of the city I hit the railing fences with my metal windowshade stick Our drumbeats quickened Patapat pat Bobooboo boom Clickacllck lick Titititi tii
ten Fluttering behind me In front of traffic I did a gentle dip With my dress my black silk cloth around my waist Into Tomkins Square Passing bums gazing us up and we them down My man I want to pass silk through your arms Touch your cock however rotted With my wands star-pointed fingers Mu lips across your matted hair I don’t want to go near you But I want you to be like me to like me All of us To fly with the queer energy rising through the park As all 200 two hundrkf of us Float and fight and lift and lift THIS IS ALL THERE IS We are all we are And you are healed for one moment not one quarter not only that food plus cheer I want to cheer you I pray you can Hurtling up Second Avenue Past bodegas and laundries Cats and dogs Dark-eyed pizza boys and green-eyed banker boys Drag as drag is drag They need us and we need what they don't know they have And at Tenth Street I posed on the big shovel of a bulldozer And at Fourteenth we blocked traffic The light green for us Longer than red for the cars They honked and tooted We defied the law With the wild law of bodies and gentle love With faeries overrunning the concrete with love Open love family love Incest right in the way of traffic I wanted to kiss everyone I almost did And the road was a river of magic Our loved flawed like cum through the intersection But the cabs revved and roared And finally tried to drive right through us And we pulled back into ourselves And we pranced along to Stuyvesant Park This faerie action is sex This sex is faerie action We redressed Peter Stuyvesant As a faerie lace and frills on a bronze hunk He gaped back in statuesque shock He's ours and we are his And we drew close two circles Plus observers And we invoked the boroughs And places we'd been reborn in Then the drumming began The Gods’ entertainment Splendid drumming of that love A deep resonant drum of that lov<~ Call the spirits bring on the madness with that love Bend to the knee kiss concrete with that love Rise up lie cock through jeans for that love Fall back down in that Soar up this time all the way In the tunnel of white light Up from the concrete unground to the Orange-grey sick-glowing sky I danced in the polluted sky I was higher already as high as it I wanted love and wandered through it And the dancing went on on and on 3
1
Kozachenko
seven
c
o
eleven Bubbula stop staring at me With your silly beautiful bumbly-grumbly smile It makes me hotter And I’m already bothereder 1000 times more excited My cock runneth over So stop teasing me Unless it’s not a tease Unless that throb of yours is mine for me And you’re ready to strip right here I don’t even know where we
are A circle or a riot But I stop noticing the instant I notice you Eight nights From the first sideways glance To the last gram of cum that glued us together Late at night in Brooklyn And the full breathed kiss On the march up Sixth And down Fifth And the grope the carress The safety I felt Feeling turned on by you On the elevator in the park In the courtyard Sandwiched in by Larry's wheelchair Between bites of spoiled runny peach On a rock in the Ramble On a bench beside the bums In a park on Spring Street In their drunkeness They don’t even see what sluts we are They know not the taste of the real lovekiss Flooding the circle of our mouths And Bubbula you handed it to me On a silver platterful of lips Open our own right here And I took it I licked back to make you gasp as much as I My revenge sparking yours And we continue down that path And we forget where we are But I know exactly where your hand is And you know too and you know t
twelve On the corner of Sixth Avenue and Christopher On a warm Friday in June at dusk Twenty years exactly after Judy's death (The funeral was Upper East Side but did you think We would hike up that far?) The faeries carried a coffin A simple thing With flowers and photos of the real girl Her music piped from a hidden boom box The later nightclub numbers Some monologues On a loop tape And Over the Rainbow played every fifteen minutes or so Four pall bearers carried the cof fin Four drag divas in black Any faerie divas Anything in black Like Bradleys’ negligee against his gor geous red hair And Agnes of course with a veil My wrecked plastic blond wig and yellow sunglasses (At sun set -* but still yellow was her color dear) And there were dozens of us Vying for the prize Judy's best-dressed flag And we were the hags for once or something And on the corner of Sixth Our sobs became wails We com peted for the loudest gasps And we collapsed to the ground Casket faeries flowers and all It was fun to scream For once it was fun to cry We have mourned for real much too much But suddenly it was so important We lelt real pain The harder the deeper A tunnel of love to Judy Back to Stonewall 1969 again We were channels for the gasp of Despair and relief and rage That she’d died she'd finally died ^ on K o z a c h e n k o JUDY! I heard your old tunes piped out of the casket And I saw a fabulous old queen A real older glamorous woman A mother a bitch of a mother Laughing with us Hints for drag Winks of the bottle She knew how to get by So did I so did I JUDY' V ou died for us Hard as it is to say Harder still to rehear all those old tunes Even more strained to believe that You transformed us You were our friend So were three of your husbands (at least) And we forgave everything Better yet we loved you We loved you No matter what you did To yourself And we were a bitch for you We cried or was that cackled Because you were the trash we all Loved to hate in ourselves And we were so glad to be rid of that It made us laugh We paraded the casket to Hudson We shoved it in the faces of the Men lining up for the pornstore Fucking and sucking inside maybe Judy would roll over dear In fact she is shifting I can feel it right here (I’m the pall-bearer now) Because she loves you all And doesn’t want you to kill yourselves So get a condom girl Do it for Judy girl Because she only had one life And look where that got her And you don't want to qo down as another statistic dear AND JUDY LOVES YOU! There's a land that I heard of An arch above Sheridan Square Park Inside the little fenced-in park Hundreds of us mourners ACT UPies street bums Cops press Judy freaks singing Somewhere With the tape beyond the tape GO SOM EW HERE W HERE YOU W O N T GET INTO ANY TROUBLE BEHIND THE M OON BEYOND
3 21
THE RAIN SIX I WAS JUST SIX A CR O SS THE STREET AFTER DINNER THE OLD WIDOW M RS FERRE WITH THE MOTHBALLS AND THE ORIGINAL COLOR TV PO PSICLES FROM THE FREEZER BANDAIDS ON THE KNEE JUST LEARNING TO RIDE MY BIKE WAITING FOR THE CRASH OF THE H OU SE THE GASP OF FULL COLOR RIOT THE BIRDS THE BIRDS TOTO IN YOUR ARMS AND YES YES I DON'T THINK YOU'RE IN KANSAS EITHER AND I LOVE YOU And happy little bluebirds Skies are And Judy heal us enrage us heal us again Give us the strength to start the revolution The tornado’s lifting our houses too We don't know where it’ll land we don't know But we love you we love we all really do And in the Square Judy from Toronto stood up popped right out of the coffin His clingy sparkly black mini mini Snug as snug He held up the first golden styrofoam brick The hairpin drop was even loader And I pulled up my yellow shades and really cried Because if she can toss a brick so can I Why can’t I?
thirte e n I wrapped my head in a kafiyah I borrowed a cute purple skirt There were earrings to spare I was tough I held a piece of concrete The uprising has begun Outside the Stonewall Shoppe/Szechuan Resto Hundreds gathered We faeries had invited them The clock was strict: 8-9 riot; 9-1 shrine (A shrine is a bar basement twenty years later) The visual bricks whistles polyester The attitude: bitch-kitch hustle-bustle Arrest us? Don’t try it! Then the fun began I threw those yellow styrofoam bricks and screamed They felt like bread loaves As light as flowers Magic as wands Bouncing in the air above us We were weapons too We were fun this was our street We dished and pranced and show ed off drag But at that very mo ment someone said "Let’s take Seventh Avenue!'1 (No one knew quite wfrat Although the scoop w as -- two queer % b a s h in g s on the piers The night «j before and one of o them shot in his x crotch) And at Jj that moment the c F ae rie s lost it ® Queen Kong marw ched off with a ” p olice barricade x thrust In the air A thousand or more fa g g o t s behind No one knew why or where But it was a real riot And I saw lots of traffic blocked And I saw flags burning at the 6th Precinct And people streamed out of the bars From the piers to the square And the traffic was totally paralyzed And a Chevy Cavelier tried to run us down There was a pretty and bloody young man laying on Waverly And when the ambulance came the crowd chilled out The Chevy was demolished And the faeries had lost it Shrine or no shrine the riot was real The anger was coming from the hearts of wild faggots Who've waited too long and seen too much It was nonsense but it made the front pages And I have read the word faerie in the New York Times And is it just because we were associated with violence And did we have anything to do with it And can we make up anything that heals all this hate Or is it the time to just rip up parking meters and To hell with Incremental gains But it wasn’t us none of us at the front lines But still we were to blame like Agnes with the candle We should have seen and smelled we should have KNOWN Because this is a real bonfire it'll engulf us all And all wo did was channel it for a few brief minutes And all of us will remember that night for the rest of our live
fourteen Oh faeries look at you How wide is your circle Deep in the drive to Central Park Happy Gay Day How earnest the looks on your faces How eager the yoo-hoos What chants the way we sing them For ourselves and the crowd as well How beautiful we all looked My two favorite spider men kissing in the heart of it And it is OK to hug and laugh Piling down 59th Stret here we go For I am the Goddess today We are all the Goddess today here we go As we walk down the avenue in style We didn’t march we played Stopping when we felt like it on Fifth or wherever Hundreds of us in a egg-shaped circle Singing or staring or just cruising the high high altitude of love Then bursting down the avenue A gushy screamy torrent of love Jumping up and down to celebrate ourselves and the crowd Running and prancing and showing leg and tit -Until we were all so hot and sweaty That we plopped back down on the road And declared a nap and cuddled and felt happy Happy like dogs loyal panting chow-down sweet gay dogs Winged and queer and silly and simple Then we burst up and ran again and stopped to hide Behind our see-thru banner I cut my old purple polyester dress at the sides and ran with it It loosened me up like all of us And Bubby I can just about hold your hand as I run That's as important as any madness we succumb to And you’ll grab me from behind and we’ll keep running And our cocks will show and we’ll get the biggest cheer And we’re off we’re over the Village and all the rainbows at the end of this parade Beyond the scummy piers and the stinky Hudson And the sun crashing to bed like we all should And beyond the fireworks purple especially Whatever it was we were running towards Here it is honey It always was right here In our own little backyard tent Or is it rising in front in my pants Here it is this is home Right here no place else And you were all there All of you And there were so many beautiful places And some of it wasn't very nice And most of it was BEAUTIFUL! Really! Oh don’t any of you believe me? And I kept searching and asking And all I kept saying was I wanna go home And finally they did I did And I guess if I went looking for my heart’s And I couldn't find it in my own Then I never really Never really Oh Sparky there's no place like home AND Y O U ’RE A l' SO BEAUTIFUL AND I'LL NEVER GO AWAY AGAIN EVER, EVER AGAIN AND I LOVE YOU SO ANDTAK . HIS WET WET KISS RIGHT DOWN YOUR THROAT AND I’M STILL TURNED ON AND THAT’S HOME ALL OF YOU ALL INSIDE OF ME FAGGOT GODFAERIEGOD I LOVE YOU SO
I love you so 3
3
Butterfly self-hatred, as Michael Denneny explains in a most insightful article in the winter 1989 issue of O U T / L O O K . Michael Denneny pithily goes on to say, "Gays were oppressed by society but--more importantly— society through use of its cultural power got G ays to oppress them selves— not only a neat trick but perhaps the most efficient means of oppression."
.or most of us, whose traditions derive from Judeo-Christian sources, homosexuality— pre sumed an affront to great Mother Earth--was tranmogrified into a crime to be hated by all because it was a crime against the community. In feudal western Europe, controlled by the hated Holy Inquisition, from whence most of our ancestors had emigrated, homosexuality as the pecando Qfih&ndp--1at in for THE UNFO R G IVAB LE S I N 1--which all good people of the western nations--Christians and Jews alike, were early drilled into hating once they understood— in each succeeding generation— that the universal scourges of disease and mass starvations were God's yearly punishments because they let fil thy Sodomites survive in their midst!
Aspects of this internalized self-hatred had been fixed in place for centuries by a British law commanding DEATH BY HANGING for anyone convicted as a practicing homosexual, a law which--passed in 1533--was not changed from DEATH BY HANGING to merely LIFE IMPRISONMENT until 1861 — the first year of our American civil war and only 51 years before I was born. That socially-internalized invisibility of self-hating Gays and Lesbians was still para mount here in the United States when I founded my first Mattachine Society in Los Angeles in 1950. Our first job as we saw it was to invent and then begin to establish a positive gay public image. It took me 2-1/2 years to find five Gay men to sit down together and look at each other and find each other good people. The first time, in November of 1950, when 5 of us— and then ten of us--Gay men and women— did sit down in a room in Silverlake we discovered each other— and so ourselves— a people of a new dimension, a people who carried— each of. them-a new vision in their hearts of how people could be loving with each other in social as well as in personal ways— a people who dreamed to develop such an added dimensional vision as a positive Gay identity in £he teeth of the i ingoist newlv-hatched Korean War, in the teeth of Senator Joe McCarthy's witch hunt against Gavs in government. Bringing this self-actual izing discovery into collective motion, was itself, as Charley Shively might put it, AN ACT OF REVOLUTION!
To accomplish, and then maintain, this constant suppression of the homosexual scapegoat, church and state worked overtime to create a total blanket of invisibility and sjlencg over the social aspects of most homosexual life--beyond the 2% of the population was this blackout that the Molles, the Societes Joyeux and the Societes Mattachine, as certain 12th through 15th century homosexual affinity groups were called, in European cities, and the numbers of Molle or Hfillifi Cl ubs, as some ho m o s e x u a l a f f i n i t y groups were known in the 16th through early 19th century Britain, were largely known to the later 19th century scholars like John Addington Symonds and Edward Carpenter as they began to emerge— let alone to the many echelons of the modern homosexual communities themselves. The appearance in the late 19th and early 20th centuries of psychology as a new medical disci pline brought to our WASP American hetero-maledominated society and new mind-sets for social izing generations of their young. The thinking of Freud and Jung indeed has tended to teach whole generations of young 20th century Gays and Lesbians how to actually rationalize socie ty's detestation of homosexuals into their own
AND IT WORKED! 3 4
Within a year and a half, in the spring and summer of 1952, our first Mattachine Society, now five discussion groups in Los Angeles, a couple in the San Francisco Bay area, and one in San Diego— defied the Los Angeles city es tablishment by challenging an entrapment case. Our fighting waterfront trade union lawyer caught the arresting cop in a lie on the wit ness stand, we caught the jury being tampered with, and the City of Los Angeles declined to mount a new trial. The queers had won some thing for the first time in American history! And wouldn't you know— that the establishment greeted the victory with a total CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE? Not one blessed word of that case was ever printed by the Hetero press— NOT ONE WORD WAS EVER SPOKEN ON THE AIR! In 1957, my first Mattachine Society's successor--ONE Magazine--won a landmark case before the United States Supreme Court— which forced the U.S. Post Office to permit dissemination of our books and periodicals through the mails. But the 3 questions the first Mattachine foun ders proposed—
uals had succeeded in persuading us, as Michael Denneny said, to oppress ourselves for 300 years, turns out to be still running the show, and calling the. turns. A very prestigious nationwide opinion poll, querying significantly-selected areas across the country, asked— in 1975 — whether their respondents thought that homosexuality was right or WRONG? 83% of those queried said that they thought it was wrong. Asking that same question, in exactly the same places, in 1985 rev e a l e d that t hose finding it wrong had dropped from 83% to 81%. Supreme Court Justice Byron White, writing the majority opinion in the 1985 Hardwick decision, knew about that 81%.. The Congress who sits on the nation's purse strings and refuses to properly fund our struggles against the AIDS epidemic know about that 81% too. For all our zaps, our marches and Gay pride parades, our movies, and documen taries, our star-studded telethons and exten sive radio interviews, and electing popular candidates and getting laws changed, 81% still think homosexuality IS WRONG! Before I go further--let me blurt our furiously that the question a wrong opel Ever since the Holocaust, and the Nuremburg trials, we don't sent public opinion polls into neighbor hoods to inquire of respondents
— who are we Gay and Lesbian people? — where have we been coming from? — what might we be constituted to contribute? were too radical for even the bulk of the Mat tachine Society's own socially internalized Gay self-hate in the 1950s and '60s: the first wave of assimilationists took over. And through new groups--like the San Francisco's second Matta chine, then the Washington, DC, followed by the Denver and the the New York Mattachine Socie ties all appeared one by one, though the wo men's DAUGHTERS OF BILITIS mushroomed in San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, the Dorian Society flowered in Seattle, like similar small grou p s in Boston and other cities, the prevailing focus was middle class, respectable, and subdued— quote "we were just the same as everybody else except in bed" and quote "we had absolutely nothing in common with each other except our sexual inclinations." And yet--and yet--one day, early in 1953, we got a letter from New South Wales which said, "We know that here in far Australia nothing may happen in our lifetimes— but we wanted to say that just the name MATTACHINE whispers 'hope— along with wind!'" (In desolate times, "hope along with wind" is magic in itself.) And again--in the letters section of Gay journals like ONE Magazine, like Mattachine Review, like the Lesbian magazine THE LADDER, and others which began to proliferate in the early '60s, new rebel Gay voices— criss-crossing the coun try were beginning to be heard— variations of first Mattachine's new vision of Gay people as carriers of the dream of a new social dimen sion. New powder trains were being laid! And when your MAGNIFICENT STONEWALL REBELLION erup ted here in New York City in June of 1969 , revealing in a flash our next new concept— Gaya social viable collective identity— those powder trains lit off across the country like the Fourth of July! By January of 1970, we had Gay liberation fronts in many regions of the country.
if they think "Jews are WRONG 1" if they think "Blacks 3X£ WRONG!" if they think "buying. blue § y § 3 i& WRONG!" The question should be, "What is this new di mension these people have to contribute?" So just why is that 81% so persistently still in place? Well--FOR TWO REASONS:— (1) because we let them (our HETERO PARENTS, FRIENDS, and p o l i t i c i a n s ) tell us ag we like tc beax it (through our Gay window), "Oh yes, your father and I suspected you were Gay. We just want you to know that we love you ANYWAY." Listen to that sentence again— through the hetero window, "Oh yes, your father and I know that you've gone wrong, but we love you ANYWAY!" The ANY WAY is the mask that hides the homophobe— the parent, the friend, the politician, who have learned nothing from your coming out to them, but who have agreed to accommodate your guilt and sin, as relatives learn to accommodate your sister having married a goy, or a black. The "ANYWAY" reveals these heteros— the parent, the friend, the politician to be— themselves— part of the 81% who think we are WRONG! Perhaps it is time to say to that non-thinking accommoda tion— that knee jerk TOLERANCE— morel Not enough!
The 1970s were full of Gay ferment— Gay/Lesbian liberation proliferated by .eaps and bounds-maybe even leaping a little too far AND BOUN DING EVEN A LITTLE TOO FAST! For the sleeping giant, that hetero-male-dominated American society whose fundamentalist hatred of homosex3 5
The second and perhaps more important reason for the stubborn persistence of the 81% is that our predominantly Gay-hating hetero society is still mind-set upon keeping us gagged by their conspiracy of silence. When— in October of 1987— our Gay and Lesbian nation mounted the largest protest march the United States had ever seen (even Jesse Jackson greeted our num bers at 750,000)--TIME/LIFE/NEWSWEEK, admitted ly the largest magazine and media conglomerate, saw fit NOT TO publish one word on the event. In this fashion America's 81% were being delib erately misinformed. This year the TIME/LIFE/ NEWSWEEK conglomerate plans to attempt a merger with Warner Communications, the largest televi sion producer and syndicator. And the poten tial of that further monopolizing was hinted at
when conglomerate members like the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times— reporting on the women's powerful march of 300,000 pro-choice men and women on April 15, 1989— spoke of this 300,000-person event as THE LARGEST THAT WASH INGTON DC HAD SEEN since the Martin Luther King 20th anniversary march of 1983— (it is sad to say that NOW didn't demur)— totally ignoring— NAY, DELIBERATELY OBLITERATING our Gay/Lesbian march of more than twice that number in October of 19871 Here is the conspiracy of silence at its most devastating! Here is how the 81% are really lied to and manipulated. And while we are on the subject of manipulation, I would propose that nowhere have we been treated to a clearer public exposition of that widespread— and so still prevailing— hetero-male detesta tion of homosexuals than the recent brouhaha in Congress over House Speaker Tom Foley's attempt to extricate himself from the closet politics of dirty little minds in the Bush White House, in the Congress, and among the blabber-mouths of the hetero-male press generally!
course, we all equally know— concerning Gay and Lesbian major doings— that one simply can't be seen in the same outfit twice. So mine is variation #2. Last night's Radical Faerie Judy Garland memo rial re-enactment in the Village and the out break of ACT-UP this year across the country is a good start on our breakout from the silence conspiracy. But I would suggest that some of the tactics, such as confrontation, are better suited tg hetero b e l l igerence— to masses of angry workers— or majorities of impatient stu dents. Successful guerrilla resistances of history knew that the burden of their thrusts were not to clobber— they were to inform: they knew that the keystones of the accuracies were not FURY— they were the theatrical magics of surprise! They swooped in— made their points— and then vanished. Faeries— equally— in their admittedly small groups— inform more lucidly and trenchantly by appearing when and were they are not expected— and vanishing before the heat arrives.
Dear brothers and sisters, dearest Gay family: on this 20th anniversary of the STONEWALL RE BELLION, might we not agree that— in reviewing this sorry array of recent caricatures— we've been k i dding o u r s e l v e s long enough? The heteros have been telling us since we were small that we are not the same as they: could we not at last begin to take the hint— breaking the conspiracy of silence surrounding us to appreciate the very different people that we are from them, and always b&Y£ fefifinl Is r LL it tim e we began t g ap p .ieg.iaie t b a i it i s ene ol ttg th s i N a tu r e 's SMAT g i f t ? to u s— t g be Bi r r FERENT? I, for one, have always felt it was a GIFT TQ BE QAYl If were really intend to break and dissipate the conspiracy of silence with which we have been surrounded, I suggest we are going to have to invent new ways to--for one thing— neutralize our compulsions for hetero middle class DRAG — more of us shall have to become visible— and some of us shall have to become MORE visible-like me, f'r instance.
CONFRONTATION, again, lays itself wide open to the improvisatory violence and violations of infiltrating provocateurs— as LA and San Fran cisco may have to learn to their sorrow. ACT UP could— in such situations— find itself being sued to a "fare-thee-wel1"--frittering away funds that were better used for health and hospices. If we use confrontation at all, we might better employ it— TO REVEAL the harm the government dishes out, TO REVEAL the wickedness and THE DEADLY CONSEQUENCES of forked-tongued politicians— then conclude the revelations with the employment of SACRED CLOWNS who— in all times and in all cultures bestow the Faerie magic of healing laughter to transform us all— once more— victims and spectators alike— back into a caring community. So also— on this lovely 20th anniversary day— my Gay and Lesbian family, my beloved family of conscious choice— let me, IN MY RADICAL FAERIE ZUNI-STYLE SKIRT, VARIATION *2, be one of your SACRED CLOWNS— bringing to you—
Many of you will remember that our Radical Faerie march-on-Washington-1987 Zuni-style skirts— worn over jeans— proclaimed us "Mennot-for-killing— and men not for war." And, of
J V
by Jeff Weinstein
i ♦ ---------------------- ♦ /o\ w ' never was a Radical Fairie, although
I may have been radical and c e r t a i n l y have been called a fairy. Actually, I felt much closer to the Flaming Faggots, and that's what I called myself— a flaming faggot, I am a flaming faggot— when I answered anyone who inquired why I wore violet e y e s h a d o w and G o o d w i l l silk blouses and Chanel No. 5 when I taught my surf er undergraduates Hegal and Jane Austin.
thS. ALU-HEAL ol lau.gbt.ei. the blessings of mv irrepressible giggle the ALL-HEAL gf LOVE!
I'm afraid I was frightened off by this last tendency, scared by the sacred and spiritual bent of these utopian provocateurs. My ration alization at the time was political, for I saw their inwardness as isolationist— a word I might have used then— and ultimately self-de feating. Part of me must have been worried, too, about "giving in" to a potentially embar rassing collective gush. Perhaps I was appre hensive about something more basic: what would life b e y o n d g e n d e r be? Fellini androgyny seemed a mixture of two negatives, old stuff, and we were heading elsewhere. But I was a guy and I liked guys, liked to have sex with guys. Where was my erection in all this lubricated hugging? (Where indeed was romantic love, when everybody loved everyone?) If I was shy about opening my legs, my mind, my heart to this, I could take some comfort in the fact that these raucous and gentle faggots were the gutsiest males I knew, and they helped me feel and act the same way. Nonetheless, I
3H
but something greater than we knew. What bet ter time to open the jewelry box again? What better time than now?
never lit out for desert gatherings, never, like Faygele benMiriam, went a year and a half without wearing men's clothes. I stayed in the city and did the best I could with what I had.
It could be that some of you, dear readers, ha v e n ' t the vag u e s t idea what I'm talking about, you sweet and feisty postmodern queers who may not even know what Radical Fairies or Flaming Faggots are. I would have thought I'd be too young to be an eminance lavande of gay liberation, Southern California branch. I'm too set now— and there were elders then, preStonewall elders, who had already prepared the path. But how I came out in the early '70s is indeed history for most of you, the way stories of Birmingham or Vietnam are history, your history. And only history will explain how I feel when, in 1989, I peer into the mirror and see something I never thought possible or de sirable: a man.
It was a time when gay, the politically effec tive label, the market definition, hadn't yet turned to clone-stone. If a group of us met, intimate strangers, sitting in a bunch on some one's shag carpet to talk about ourselves and the universe, we didn't really know what it was that'made us "gay" together. It wasn't just that our mutual attraction or the sex. That went on in bars, bathrooms, bedrooms, and pub lic parks almost as it had before. And it went on at m e eti n g s . The m e e t i n g s t h e m s elves , though, were something new, bundles of faggots scattered over California— and over the coun try, even in New York--analyzing, camping, soul-baring, imagining a life in which the exhilaration that results from designing a "gay" future was permanent. And that future, for some of us, excluded our being men.
Not a male, which is fine and which I must be, and not just an adult, which happens even to the best of us. No, a man. In such a dimin ished state, I look down at my legs and want to scream, my Ronald Reagan to my Ann Sheridan: Where's the rest of me? Where's my skjit? But I haven't "screamed" in years.
There were excellent reasons not to be men. The best way to support women in their endeavor to redefine woman was to redefine m a n . We would shave our beards and raise, even suckle, a generation of unprogrammed young. That way my line at the time--a sincere Flaming Faggot scenario, although I found it virtually impos sible to carry political rectitude all the way home. You looked a man, you were a man; you could never be feminist, you could only be profeminist.
When I came out, there were no Radical Fairies; there were, however, odd meetings of a looser sort— looser than the activist give-'em-hell ones or even the weekly socials— in which we of like spirit began to question the ghettoizing category of "gay" identity. In those heady days we connected, argued, and moved apart, but a few years later I read about some of the same bright-eyed faggots, now calling themselves Radical Fairies, rolling in the Arizona mud, holding hands in ecstatic "fairie circles," aggressively— no, assertively--challenging the deadening either/or of gender, and expressing passionate belief in the transhistorical con tinuity of a gay-male fairie spirit.
We tried to strip sexual behavior from gender roles, to derail our lusts from the rigid butch — and involuntary femme— tracks we had come to so despise. We may have been naive here, for lace panties had cradled the behinds of more than one motorcycle cop way before we proposed that it is just as "active" to be fucked as to fuck, and "passive" was nowhere. Our butch/ femme fantasies were not so easily dismissed, or course, but they were fantasies, the arbi trary and flip-flop nature of which we had established beyond a doubt.
E d i £ 2 i ! £ _ H £ k £ : The above a r t i c l e was reprinted from The Village Voice, Vo l . 34, 126, with the very kind permission of the author.
And because I had begun to shake away what is now quietly called the "socially constructed" nature of maleness, my self, my place, my world became available to the possibility of deli cious and radical change. It was a superb time: daily life became p r o m isin g . I could actually envision an unfettered general future because I could hear my own chains dropping to the floor. All the things I treasure doing now— writing, organizing, dressing, loving— I learned were in one's power without the uni forms. How to spread this good news was, for me, the question of the hour, and I did every thing I could to bring it up, at work and at play. A rhinestone bracelet was my Little Red Book, a gaudy mirrored handbag my rlsuml. My jewelry box is still filled with polemical props.
▼ /08W1JTMST NEW YORK
The Lesbian and G ay
212 620 7110
Community Services Center
NfW
to-;"
As a part of our adventures in New York City for the FAG and Gay Pride/Stonewall 20 WFP spent part of an afternoon being given a ''PRESS TOUR" of the Lesbian and Gav Communitv Service Center. The center,
located in New York C i t y’s
Greenwich Village, has become a vital part of the Big Apple's Lesbian and Gay community. Our tour host, Deputy Director Bob Woodworth, was as proud as a peacock as he told us of the center's past history and showed us room by
Which leaves me in front of the mirror, the box unopened, my expectant, gender-wide eyes not matching my face. This isn't the first time a vision of the future has been belied by the ongoing compromises and crise” of the present. No one knows better than you, dear reader, what has made it almost inconceit tie to live a gay life in which idealism— F u m i n g Faggotry--is the motive and spiritual invention— Radical Fairidom— the informing guide. The promise of gay liberation, faggot style, was not equality
root the bright future envisioned by all involved
ed. Extensive renovations are planned in the next few years which will give the center an even greater ability to serve its community. For more information about the center write to them or if you live in the area just drop in. EDITOR'S NOTE: Special thanks to Alan Hertzberg for setting it all up. 3 ^
___________ try Ltw ili^ c c
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Derek paced the cabin floor looking for dis traction. Anything to keep his mind off the young man taking the shower. Behind that door, the liquid sound of fresh water spraying against Jim's hard body. Get away from here, Derek thought. Just get away, it's no good. Always his body, his scent, his sweat. No good, it is no good. Derek tossed himself on the bed and buried his head as if he could bury the heat.
Liquids everywhere around and still the heat bore down on Derek. Hot summer heat of South Carolina increased the restlessness. It was insatiable his need to be quenched within. This place, Seven Lakes, only added to the feeling. Water, water everywhere. It mingled with the heat and sent streams of sweat down Derek's sleeves. Inside him, a crushing dry ness, burning.
a
o
Seven o'clock, still daylight, still hot, and the shower sound stopped. The sounds behind the door were muffled. Derek turned his head and looked at the door, waiting. It was an eternity and just a few minutes, then Jim's figure emerged. He was still damp. Only a pair of shorts clothed him. Open in front, Jim looked dazed, too much heat. Jim's cock hung, semi-erect, pushing out the front slit in his shorts. Thick, lightly tanned, olive almost, the cock hung and pulled him to the bed; his bed, not Derek's. M i n u t e s p a s s e d in silence. Derek waited, churning inside, fatigued by desire. Jim lay prostrate, his face buried in his pillow. The cabin held them both, suspended. "I'm going to rest," Jim said, not turning. "Okay." Derek moaned inside and pulled himself up and forced himself out of the cabin. The fresh air felt good. A space was created. South Carolina. Derek wondered why he'd come here. What he wanted from the place. Who he wanted in this place. Walk, he told himself. Jim stayed in the cabin, pressed to the bed. It was unbearable this heat. The shower hadn't helped. His mind had played tricks. He'd wished and held his cock and it had gotten hard. He'd stroked it thinking of Derek. He'd come. He hated it. He'd deny it. Derek wouldn't like it. Still he'd had no control. The bed soothed him now, though it was now also wet. Derek felt the heat ease off by ten o'clock. He'd eaten in town, and gotten away from his thoughts. Jim had been gone when he returned to the cabin. He picked up a book and began to read. Then a cigarette. Then time passed just as the pages turned throuqh his finqers. Just as the butts filled the ashtray, it was all a respite from suffering. It was all distraction from heat. Midnight came and the door opened to the cabin. Jim entered and cast Derek a furtive smile.
"Well, you do. people?"
Don't you look and notice
Jim turned a little and touched Derek's arm, running the finger up towards the shoulder. "You have large veins. They're pretty. And I sometimes notice people. I try not to pay much attention." "Do you like the heat?" Derek ran his own finger along the sweat which lined Jim's thigh. "I could do without it." Jim traced the other arm, following the vein line down to the finger which rested on the bed. Derek Jim's sweat have sweat
raised his free arm which held traces of sweat on fingertips. Slowly he held the in his hand. "When it's hot, I like to plenty of liquic is." Derek licked the off his fingers.
Jim said nothing. He watched and let his own fingers run over Derek' s hand. "Shouldn't we got some sleep while it's cooling off?" Jim suggested and started to rise. "I don't feel like sleeping. in g .
Do you?"
do? I don't have much have something on your 1 the question and the
to say tonight. Do y mind?" Jim's eyes h decision.
y mind. I just wan t to Derek felt with you." was too close now, too mout h, the eyes, the
"Nothin' particular oi spend a little more t himself back away. J real. The thighs, t hands, and the bulge.
tomorrow?"
Jim
The moments passed and fear played away. sire held in check.
DeÂ
thing also began to back off.
Derek moved a little, shifting his body to lean closer to Jim. His hand pushed against Jim's shoulder, pressing him slowly down. "Stay here."
"What's up?" Derek asked. Jim said nothing. "Just out walking. Stopped and talked to a few people up the road." "You want to do anything?" self up to sit.
Derek
He just closed his eyes.
"I will talk, you listen. just listen."
Don't say yes or no,
raised himÂ
"I don't know. What's there to do?" Jim stood a few feet from Derek's bed. "I think I'm tired," he added. "Sit down then." Derek motioned to his bed. Jim paused in thought, hesitated, and then sat down, the inches separated them. Jim leaned back and stretched out. Derek looked at the thighs stretched out. The hair which led up the legs to the bulge of his crotch. Jim lay still, eyes closed. No, not closed, almost closed. Derek turned and faced him. "You have thick eyelashes."
Derek spoke.
"You have funny words." answered.
_m grinned as he
Derek moved his hand down from the shoulder and pulled open Jim's shirt. "You're hot. I'll take it off you. You have a beautiful chest, you know, so smooth, just tiny black hairs. And you are hot. I want to relax you. makes one tense. I feel your tension. more talk, just relax." Jim's shirt came off moved down his chest of Jim's crotch. A silence between them. day. Liquid finally inside Derek.
1
Heat So no
and Derek's hand slowly and eased over the bulge stifled moan broke the The heat cooled from the quenching the dry fire
p t h ic k < 5^ ) â&#x2122;Ś ILLUSTRATION BV
KEVIN GIRARD
1 am going to be frank and modern with this troubled teenager, the Teacher thought, not like mine were with me.
"You have all the advantages, and you're heal thy and bright and good-looking."
"Johnny," said the Teacher, "Why settled down with some nice boy?"
Johnny c e r t a i n l v was g o o d - l o o k i n g . As he turned his head tfiis way and that, the teacher felt as if he was walking around a radiant work of art.
haven't
you
Johnny, the Student, sat without moving in an armless chair. His own arms were crossed at the wrist in front of him, his hands limp on their backs in his lap like big dead bugs. "You do badly in your studies. You don't seem to socialize. You don't try out for sports or clubs or plays." Johnny, who had been looking at nothing, looked away from it. His eyes pointed at a blank wall, in which he seemed to see a window, and open space. "Not that you're any trouble. You don't talk in class, or come late. You don't smoke or drink or do dope, so far as we know. You have no record of speeding or vandalism." Johnny turned away from his invisible window and looked the other way, as if at an invisible classmate who might tell him the time.
"Do you think you would be better off if you found a friend, a boy friend, a date, a mate, a lover, someone to be with and talk with?" He waited a moment. "To share with?" Johnny rotated his perfect head until it faced the Teacher. His eyes were large and wide-open and golden-brown. Under his flossy light-brown hair they looked like mythical fruits hung in a mythical orchard. "I always hoped," he said, someone like you."
"That
The Teacher's heart gave a hurtful at what he thought he heard.
I would meet
little hope
Johnny spoke on: "I always thought that, just statistically, there had to be some nice people left. It's nice to be here with you."
a ^
on dog food in trailer houses up on cinder blocks? And didn't you ever notice the satel lite dishes dragging in instructions from the ether, telling everybody how to vote and what to buy in the air-conditioned malls?"
"All right. That'll make it easier. You know how souls are born on Earth into ever higher forms, learning lessons along the way? And eventually, hopefully, you become a Realized Man and transcend all your kharma--acquired sinful baggage— and escape the Great Wheel of Being and escape back on Oneness with the God head from whence all souls spring?"
"Yes, Johnny, yes. And I see the farmlands ruined by industrial waste dumping, and T see right here in the school the mental health problems among advantaged children driven mad by fear of war and disease and starvation, yes, Johnny, yes. I see all those things." And he leaned forward almost into the face full of golden banked fire. "But, Johnny, I also see you. T see your intelligence and your passion, and I know that as long as there are young people like you, there is hope."
"Well, yes," the Teacher said, "Most of us in the s i x t i e s read r a n d o m l y about such relig ions." "Right," Johnny said. "Well, had it never occurred to you that there might be a finite number of souls?" "No," said the Teacher, did."
"If Arab terrorists don't kidnap me and hold me hostage. R a p e me in a c l o s e t , " J o h n n y suggested.
"The kids march against racism in South Africa because they feel it's so hopeless here," John ny countered. "Our millionaires don't even bother to run the government anymore; they don't have to. Government is small potatoes compared to the money they make dealing with the people they tell us are our blood enemies. They only use the government to keep some wars going. What government there is is run by increasingly conventional and orthodox clerks, like Catholic Europe in the Dark Ages. We sit. here talking about my disaffectation in the middle of a cultural catastrophe, when the only really interesting thing is how are the New Zealand archaeologists going to think of us when they dig through our poisoned ruins in ten million years?"
He threw his head back like a boy struggling toward a difficult orgasm. "And again and again and again." He looked the Teacher in the face. "All of this in sight of the distant, glimmering, glowing Godhead, you understand. So you fail and fall back to Earth and are reborn, after ferocious competition in the testicles of some dumb man, competition so furious that it involves right then and there acquiring extra kharma. You ever think how long it takes to pay off such a kharmie debt, to get even a little bit ahead? No? It's hard, Teacher, takes trillions and trillions of years. And then you are born and live, and made amends, and make new mistakes, and it all starts again."
The Teacher saw, as if projected between him and Johnny's fulminating face, the star bitch in the Faculty Lounge, staring over his slim eyeglasses and saying, "They don't have brains; they barely have bodies; everything about them is vestigial; if we can start educating the first graders now, we might be able to use these teenagers as food for them--if they're not too contaminated with preservatives!"
He gazed at a hole in the sky. "And then at last you make it. You live a last life on Earth as a crippled, leprous, stinking, stupid, brain-damaged quadruple-amputee starving beggar in a gutter and you die and streak like a comet right up past all the material manifestations right into the substance of that great glowing engulfing all-forgiving, all-manipulating God head. Ah, God! For one moment of that you'll gladly live ten trillion years!"
"It's not preservatives you're contaminated with!" the Teacher cried to Johnny. "It's cynicism!"
He looked back at the Teacher. "But life mas tered matter, more than over seemed possible. Life mastered medicine and nutrition and com munication and multiplied in man's form many more times than would have ever seemed pos sible. So, many experienced souls, knowing they might be back on Earth many times again, decided to make it comfortable. And safe. And luxurious. And they succeeded. Matter became so comfortable, so compelling, that many forgot their mission. T h e r e were more and more people. More and more materialism. Finally even the Orient succumbed to it. After the bottomless, topless, upless, downless, center less insanity of space between existences, Earth began looking good. So there were— are more people than ever before. Does that sug gest anything to you?"
Johnny reached out and clutched the Teacher's shoulders. "Oh, T e a c h e r ! " he sighed, and kissed the Teacher full on the lips. Johnny smelled a little like fresh-baked bread. His lips were soft; there seemed no bottom to them. Johnny r e leased him, and fell back in his chair. "Listen," he said, "No one has ever heard this before. You're sweet; you're very sweet." He knew just how to begin. "Mankind has suc ceeded in surviving beyond hi wildest dreams. Even killing off millions wi*-h war and pollu tion, there are more of us lan ever before. Do you know any Indian religion at all?" feverish
it never
"Well," said Johnny, "That's just what there are. A finite number of souls. All squibbling about out in the madness of outer space, strug gling like sperm in a birth canal trying to be the ones that make it up to the Ovum to pene trate matter and be reborn again."
"Johnny!" the Teacher said. "Even among you tragically disaffected youth, there is politic al activism."
The Teacher, still flushed and Johnny's kiss, nodded dumbly.
"I suppose
The Teacher shook his head stupidly. "Teacher!" Johnny breathed harshly between his perfect middle-class teeth. "Remember: There are a finite number of souls! There began not
from
a
3
The Teacher thought of Paradise, cookie-sweet kisses, billowing linens, jail. "Johnny," he said carefully, keeping his hands busy by man ipulating a pencil through space in a perfect circle, "I am very flattered to hear you say that. It's perfectly natural for a young per son to get crushes on older, more accomplished people, and there's nothing wrong with it at all. But ideal socialization is more effec tively achieved within a generational peergroup ." Johnny continued, rather than responded: "I feel so sorry for people like you. You're the ones that really suffer. You think things still mean something." The Teacher relaxed. Existential disaffectation was something one could deal with. There were books, movies, music one could introduce such an unfortunate to. And surely pure old simple sex would eventually invade, corrupt, and replace the sad young knight's beautiful picture of woe. "Well, Johnny," he said, standing the pencil on end, "There are a lot of us that feel that way sometimes. It's certainly natural at your age. C h i l d h o o d is over, your p a r e n t s are just people, you're walking around in a big new body full of fascinating new toys and torments. The liquor of youth has you drunk half the time, hung over the rest; the possibilities of all your new urges are making your cells rewrite every opera and adventure ever written." He sighed and tipped the pencil over with a twitch of a finger. "I often think that at your age all the boys and girls should be transported, taken away, given an isolated continent--Australia, maybe— and let off at the dock with a sword and a rose and told to go and seek the Holy Grail. A boat would come back and pick up all the survivors at twenty-one." He smiled, pleased with his melodious little mural, and looked at Johnny with magnanimous benevolence. Johnny sighed. With the concentration of a youth using tiny tweezers to piece together a model spaceship from bits of plastic and balsa, he spoke: "What did you see on your way to school this morning?" The Teacher blinked. "Well, it was a beautiful morning. The sunrise was blinding." "Even through the smog?"
Johnny asked.
Ah, he's in despair at the sad state of the world. "Johnny, there are many things wrong with the world today. Educated upper-class children like yourself carry a heavy burden. But the world can be changed, never fear. You mustn't feel that it's the end of the world just b e c a u s e there are p r o b l e m s to face. Throughout history, again and again, doom-mer chants have told us it was all over. But some how or other, we've managed to survive pretty well." Actually he said, "Prit-tee-well!" like a cheerful bird chip. Johnny's face closed. Literally. His eyes squinted and his lavender lips pulled in until his mouth was a tiny slit. He seemed to count to a small number, and then opened his eyes and unrolled his lips. "Yes," he said, "People have survived pretty well. More than half the people that ever lived are alive right now." The Teacher burbled something about birth con-
trol, continuing education, and new protein sources. Johnny laughed silently, shaking his shoulders and his head with a wide winsome smile stretch ing his lips. "I believe I could tell you anything," he said. "Oh, Johnny," the Teacher said,
"It makes me
feel so good to think that you have confidence
in m e ." Johnny leaned forward and planted his forearms on the Teacher's desk. "Why are you so anxious to help me?" he asked. His face is like a lion's, the Teacher thought. G o d help a n y o n e who ever loves him a lot. "That's my job," he said. Johnny made a face of disgusted sarcasm, the verbal equivalent of which would have been "Puh-leeeeze, Teacher." He said, "It's lots of people's job to help me. They don't know how and don't care." The Teacher thought of his in-fighting col leagues, their principal activity spreading bitter wisecracks about each other, struggling for the sparse bones of academic advancement, their only recreation making hateful remarks about the children whose education they had undertaken. He hated the Faculty Lounge, a pit of anti-student sentiment as vitriolic as antiSemitic rallies in a 1920s Vienna beer-hall. He and another teacher who cared about the students always sat across the room from one another, afraid to be catalogued together as sentimental idiots in case of a purge. "Johnny," he said, "What's important is that I do care and I want to help you achieve your fullest potential." Let them laugh! Johnny said: "Yes, I could tell you anything. Look, didn't you see the beggars sleeping on cardboard on the sidewalks today? Didn't you?" "Yes, of course I did." " A n d d i d n ' t you s e e n the g a r b a g e in the streets? Just nod. Yes, you did. And didn't you see the small businesses closing, the fastfood joints and the porn stores, and the re volving Cross and Cross on the dome of the New Holy Temple of Fundamentalist Faith, didn't you? And the political powers with the faces of the presidential puppets on all the street light pedestals, and the ever-growing number of fast-fuck in-and-out motels? You must drive past them all. You have to live out in one of the little Monopoly-house suburbs that all the white people have moved to to leave the oncegreat inner city to the crack-peddler gang wars. Don't you see the whiskey stores that cash welfare checks, and the lines of unwed mothers in the cold outside the free clinics, and the bums in line beside the bus station waiting to sell their plasma?" "Yes, Johnny, I see all these things." "And did you pass through the Bahamian ghetto with galleries full of incoherent rage? And did you drive through the warehouse district where the Blacks stand in mobs to get day jobs delivering the food and the clothes to the white people? Near where the old people live
trapped forever in flesh, competing to have more and more of what paltry delights flesh can offer, letting the world rot and crumble b e cause they know they can always fix it some time, or letting it rot and crumble because they no longer care or wish to care, letting the rabid animals they call "man" run about with any and every freedom they might desire, because they have learned it makes no differ ence, anyway, for what can make any difference in the endless meaningless night?"
to be enough free souls for all the people that were being born and living. There began to be souls torn from the fringes of the Godhead to answer the testicles' cry for new ammunition, the egg's pathetic request for more vital fuel. First from the fringes of the Godhead, yes, and then— oh, God, and then— from the inner layers of the Godhead, those who thought they had it made forever felt themselves dragged by the irresistible pity they had come to feel for matter, back, back, helplessly into sad matter. The very fabric of the Godhead began to be raveled. It pulsed, it tried, it made majestic efforts, but it began to come apart. And at last, at last, even those of use who have for many millennia been realized and perfected and cleansed and accepted back into the integral matrix of the center of all being and nothing ness, yes, even we were recruited, tugged down lines of irresistible empathy back here, here to this rotting, rutting, rotating ruined world!"
Johnny stood, a tall young god, tear-tracks shining down his cheeks. "Wanna have a love affair, teacher? We'll have to do safe sex. If we want t.o live." He strolled to the door of the Teacher's of fice. "Call me if you want me," he said. "Johnny," the Teacher said. to everybody?"
"Do you tell this
"Most of us know it," Johnny said. "There's no rule against telling it. You can make a lot of money if you tell it as science fiction for the masses. For as long as they are able to learn to read."
Tears were stre a m i n g down J o h n n y ' s marb l e cheeks. His long, l a n g u o r o u s limbs were stretched out as if crucified. He whimpered like a baby as he spoke. "Yes, lost, trapped, after every life we re turned out into a swimming space, and there was no longer a landmark in Eternity, there was no Godhead, it had all been torn, mangled, apart. There was nowhere to go but to come back to this Earth!"
"Johnny," the Teacher this to people."
said,
"You
mustn't
tell
Johnny, hand on doorknob, looked at the Teacher curiously. "You know," he said, "We rnay have been wrong. T here may be a few new souls trickling in from somewhere. That would be nice. We're so tired of managing things, of trying to solve an insoluble problem. It would be nice if fresh spirit came into the world. Or are your just an agent of the Crazy Old Ones?"
He gazed at the Teacher. "And here we are. Some maddened, some cynical, knowing we are trapped forever, tangled helplessly in greed and fear and your hallowed Wars of Ideas for two thousand years now. Helpless, helpless. And greater horrors to come. You think Calcut ta in the peak centuries of Buddhism was awful? Oh, you have no idea what is to come."
He came back and kissed the Teacher again. "No," he said, "I think you may be new. You sure aren't without a soul. I.ike I said, call me if you want me. But don't bother me any more, okay?"
"What— is to come?" the Teacher asked. "Oh, I don't mean what is to come in your sense of past p r esent and future," Johnny said. "That's already over. I speak in terms of my story. What cam, you would say, what already came. With all of the souls that had consti tuted the Godhead stranded here, living longer and more of the living longer, and continuing like slime mold to multiply, do you know what happened then?"
He went back to the door. "Remember the sta tistics on middle- and upper-class teenage suicides and don't bother me, okay?" He smiled a smile sultans would have paid bales of dia monds to see. "But call me if you want me." "Johnny," the Teacher said, "Please don't this sort of thing too much."
The Teacher shook his head. Johnny's face had swollen into a mask of righteous anger, like a prophet on the fringes of the Sistine ceiling.
say
Johnny stopped smiling. With the face of a lawmaker stating a case, he said: "I can say anything. We can all say anything. Everyone either knows it, or--" and he smiled again before leaving the office, "--or else, they haven't the capacity to listen."
"Then," Johnny said, in a hoarse and gleeful voice, "Then tens, hundred, thousands, mi l lions, began to be born without souls." He clapped his hands slowly, as if mocking a bad theatrical climax. "Yes," he said, as if he expected the Teacher to have understood what he had been saying and was only sharing silent communion with him as they both saw the same picture in their minds. "Yes. Master races forming, races with souls, however shriveled, crippled, damaged, old, and terrified, master races forro-ng, dominating the mere soulless amoebas that nstituted most of the human race, a comparative few still capable of feeling, thinking, guessing, managing, man ipulating; master races, k n o wing they are n. s
ROBERT PATRICK is A i e n c a ' s most-published and most-produced gay playwrite, having done his first play, THE HAUNTED HOST, at the Caffe Cino in New York in 1964. His latest book is UNTOLD DECADES, seven one-acts about gay male U.S.A. life from the I920's through the !980's. He is 52 years old and lives in New York where he teaches playwriting at Elaine Gold's Corner Loft Studio. Of his many honors, he is proudest of the International Thespian Society’s Founders Award "for services to theatre and to youth". His first novel, TEMPLE SLAVE, will be published in 1990 by Knights Press. He began writing short stories to limber up for writing TEMPLE SLAVE.
I
:^
ly
Mevutt
PHOTO BY LEE STEENHUIS
#n the penultimate day of vacation, Seth sat on the dock and thought about all the fishes in the world. He was a sullen boy of twelve with few friends, but he wasn't lonely. He had a picture book, and he sat on the dock with the big book on his lap, slowly turning the pages. Th e r e were many, many strange fish in the world. There were fish that could spit out of the water, hitting leaves in the trees; fish that could walk; big-boned fish with lanterns hanging down over their eyes; villainous fish with fanged mouths; fish that lived so deep in the water they exploded when they hit the air. Way up north there was one called the muskellunge, a six-footer with a mouth large enough to swallow a boy. He shivered and closed the book. That morning he'd asked his mother what would happen if a man and a fish tried to make friends, like the sailor and "The Little Mer maid," and she had answered: "No. Fish are fish and people are people."
Mi n n o w lu r k e d by the w a t e r ' s edge, and he scooped up the slow ones with his fingers; green globules of muscle with pale distended bellies, they fought bravely, torturing his palm until they expired or until he dropped them back into the lake. "Besides," she added. "It's a horrible world. Eating and eating. Fish don't make friends. If they like the way you look, they eat you." And that was true, too. All morning, water striders--he called them "water spiders"— skated the lake surface like sugar-plum fair ies. Suddenly one disappeared in a vortex, a f i s htail c h u r n e d the surface, and a trout cruised off like a torpedo. He jumped up on tippy-toes to watch for as long as he could, shielding his eyes and squinting until the trout swam into the l e a d - c o l o r e d shadows. "It's a horrible world," he thought. Late in the afternoon, a *>
wind tattered the long
like a kitchen door. There was a metallic belch as Tall cut the motor and let the boat scud through the middle of the lake.
lake. At the sound of thunder, Seth discarded a fresh handful of minnows and scampered inside to his mother. "Get away from the window," she said, closinq the curtains. "You want to be hit by lightning?" Lightning clutched the lake with s tatic claws, then retreated, then clutched again, screeching, and he thought, down there the fish must be safe, massing in the green coolness, sucking air from weeds, watching the rain-beveled roof. After a solid ten minutes of rain the sun came out and he went right back to the dock to watch the island and breathe the slicing, ozone-rich air.
“Wanna hang for a while"7" Tall asked, waving. "Hey, wanna hang for a while?" Seth exhaled sharply.
"We're about ten blocks said.
Tall lit a cigarette. "You smoke?" Seth asked. "Yeah.
"I envy you. You oughtn't to start such a nasty habit at your age. I smoke about two packs a day myself already." "Really?"
"I said, what are you waiting for?" the tall boy said.
Tiny waves slurped the hull and the boat rocked q u i e t l y like a mad boy. Tall s a v o r e d his smoke, exhaling it through flared nostrils as he spoke.
"Nothing." Fuckin' off the
"You're not going to make any 'tall jokes,' are you?" Tall said. "Cause I've heard them all. 'How's the weather up there,' 'pfft, it's rainin; ' or how we make elevators smell bad for short people."
C'mere."
"I'll take your word for about an island?"
it.
Want one?"
"I'm not allowed."
"I forgot the tarp— again," the tall boy said guiltily. "What are you, the sentinel?" Seth squinted at him for a moment, then turned back to his business. The tall boy flipped the rag to the dry side and began squeaking again.
"That island.
from nowhere," Tall
Seth sat up and looked around. They were in the dead center of the lake, drifting like lost sailors. His mother's cottage blinked on the horizon, and the island loomed closer by half.
He turned around at the sound of juicy foot steps. A tall boy was coming down the lawn, wrapped in the glare of the late afternoon sun, his shadow shivering along the damp grass. The tall boy had a pickerel build, long and lean and bony. He thumped along the dock and loi tered for a moment right next to where Seth was sitting.
"You're awful interested in something. scales." He worried a scabby spot fiberglas with his fingernail.
"Are we there yet?"
What's so big
"I don't know any jokes," Seth said. "Nothing.
It just looks cool." "All right, I got one. There was this queer priest who caught this kid hackin' off behind the barn— "
"Whatever turns you on. By the way, no matter anybody told you, my name's 'Tall.'"
"Hacking off?"
Seth hesitated. But Tail's eyes were friendly, and soft, like melting silver. And then Tall offered the hand that held the rag, realized the error, and laughed. The laugh ignited the melted-silver in his eyes. He switched the rag and their hands touched. T a i l ' s skin was moist. It was warm as the sun on Seth's bare arms. When Tall began scrubbing again, the muscles shivered like a hooked fish.
"You know. Hackin' off. Jerkin' the gherkin." "Oh sure, off."
in New York
Spankin' they
call
the monkey. it
jerking
"That's weird," Tall said, flicking an ash into a wave peak. "So this priest catches this kid hackin' off with a Playboy magazine, and he takes it away and tells him, 'if you don't do as I say I'll tell your mother.' So the priest whips out his own pecker— shit."
"Anyway," Tall said, balling up the rag and tossing it into the stern, "You wanna go for a ride?" "Really?"
The cigarette had fallen into Tail's lap, col lapsing his narrative into a chant of "shit, shit, shit, shit" as he frisked his thigh and crotch and red and black ashes scattered on the deck. He shook his head, lit another cigar ette, and dangled his free hand at his thigh.
"We could go to your island." "Really?" Seth repeated. He felt light as a fish being lifted by the gills. They tore off together, the rush of speed ex citing Tall, intimidating Seth; the backwash shrugging against the dock. Seth h u ddl e d against the stern of the boat, tattered by the wind, his head f a thoms df p. Down in the greenglass water were enoi j u s lake trout-twenty, maybe thirty-pound trout with perfect, shining bodies. He imagined catching a lunker in his bare hands. It flapped back and forth
"I burn this boat, my pop'll shit all over me. I mean, I'm not afraid of him or nothing but he's got a wicked right and he's not afraid to use it. Where was I?" "The priest took out his pecker." "Aw,
a
-7
forget
it.
It's
a dumb
joke
anyway.
Bitch it." There was a single pinpoint of fire on the ridge of b l u e j e a n that s p a nned his crotch. He flicked the ember away and stomped it. "Don't wanna burn my leadbellies off."
*
"What's a leadbelly?" "You know, the way they hang." He toggled the ridge of denim with his cigarette hand. "The hanging jewels."
"Wow," Seth said when they reached the lee side of the island. In the shadows, he could see through the water— which was the green of his mother's bottleglass collection— clear to the bottom, where mossy rocks lay together like sleeping animals and where the backs of fish darted. His eyes followed a fallen bough from its tip a few inches above the surface, along its fuzzy, corroded length, to where it was anchored under a sedgy tire.
"Like, I went to the druggist the other day." "Yeah?" "And I said, 'gimmie some condoms,' and he says, 'you get outta here before I call your father,' and I say, 'it's not my fault if your daughter gets pregnant.'"
"I've never seen anything like this before in my whole life," he said. "What's the biggest fish you ever caught?"
Really?" Seth said.
The old yelling, I'll give locked my underwear
horny
Sure, Seth said. The bow lifted right up out of the water this time.
Tall was the most interesting person that Seth had ever met. His eyes were the most beautiful eyes that Seth had ever seen.
"Yeah?
i-iic grri
enough to beg for it I" Tall looked dreamy, as if rec a l l i n g the one time the t actic had worked. The condom crackled as it hit the deck en pointe. "You dropped this," Seth said, reaching out to touch Tail's thigh. The older boy jumped up and sat in the driver's seat. "How 'bout we check out your island?" he asked.
fuck. So I get home and my pop is 'Rubbers? I'll give him rubbers. him some goddamn rubbers.'" I just door. Then I robbed some from his drawer. Hal Ever see one of them?"
"I don't know.
Ten pounds, fifteen— "
"Hey, what's that?" Seth demanded, pointing. "What?" kivvy."
"I think so." Tall flipped his wallet open, pulled out a silver packed and handed it to Seth. "This one's got a special cream that helps you hold your juice. Squeeze it. Don't it feel like the inside of a girl's pussy?" Seth squeezed. It. felt as if a slimy flounder was inside st ruggling.
Tall
s q u i nted.
"Ah,
it's only a
"Could we catch it?" "If we had a fishing rod. anyway. It's a throwback."
But who wants to,
It looks like I could reach right down and grab it. Seth leaned over the side and dipped his hand in the water. It was warm and fleecv, like lather. 1
"And this is a shot of my girl." "She's pretty."
I wouldn't try it if I were you. First of all, you'd miss. Things look closer than they really are. And kivvy's got poison spines on their backs. They'll prick the shit out of you."
"She's got a great set of knockers. When she lets me put it inside her, it feels so good." Seth s qu e e z e d the packet. this?"
"You mean
like
"Did you ever see that trout that comes by once in a while? Must be at least 14 inches lonq and this thick— "
"Yeah." "Wow."
"Cut it out!" Tall yelled. 1 11 tell you how to get a girl to boogie with you, if you want."
"I mean the fish," Seth pleaded.
"Really?"
"Shut the fuck— "
"Sure. Just quit saying, 'really.'" Tall gave the offending word a flourish and another ash sizzled in a wave.
A rasp was coming from under the boat. It sounded as if the boat were trying to clear a phlegmy mess from its throat. "Rocks!" Tall cried, firing another series of "shits!" He grabbed an oar, propped it against a large, submerged boulder and shoved hard, then paddled ferociously, splashing himself and Seth, pro pelling them away from the shadows. "We better stay back," Tall declared when they were clear. "If I damage the hull my pop'll...."
"Sor ry." "It's a real annoying habit." He huffed the smoke. "People will never respect you if you keep that up. All right, here's what you do. First get one of these. Try your old man's underwear drawer, next to the Playboy books— I bet you thought they didn’t need Playboy books after they got married— anyway, when you scope out a nice-looking chick you start walking after her, and when you get close to her, you say, 'hey, you dropped this,* and you put it in her hand. The condom, I mean. They say nine
"We could tie up over there," Seth murmured. He stared at the thickness of trees rising from the scraggly underbrush of the island, quite unlike the pebble beach at Granite cottages. It was exciting here, like a jungle plateau. Peaceful and nauseating, like Tail's eyes. a «
"Not a good idea," Tall said. "Wouldn't like?"
"Over there."
it be nice to find out
what
"I heard her say outside my window the other night."
it's
"If we had some girls— "
Tall watched Seth tapping his stick at the water's edge, then slapped the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. "Aw, bitch it. I don't give a damn. You coming?"
The soft, scraping sound i n t e r r u p t e d them again. "Aw, bitch it," Tall scowled, reaching back for the oar. "Let's get our asses outta here."
"No.... She licked her lips and said something about the front of your bathing suit." "Really?" Tall said, his body stiffening. The boat had finally found a channel, and was drif ting slowly to the shore as if the island was reeling it in; the bow swished as it found a groove in the sand and hung there, listing to windward, about a yard from the waterline. The boy tossed the stick in the water and stood up, prepared to grab the bowsprit. "You won't be sorry," Seth w h i s p e r e d , g azing into his friend's eyes. "Throw me the line."
But Seth slipped over the side before the oar touched water. "Hey!" Tall shouted. with that shit!"
"Get back here.
C'mon
"C'mon in," Seth declared as he sloshed onto a crescent of sand. "The water's fine." "C'mon back, I said."
Tall wanted to look away from Seth's eyes, which burned like a spotlight. It was as if Seth had s h o v e l e d red coals into his open skull. The longer he looked into Seth's eyes, the coal burned hotter, but he felt terrible shame at the thought of looking away, as if he might lose some important battle. Seth gave no sign of breaking his fixed stare. He narrowed his eyes and the beam grew hotter. Tall winced a smile. He flashed sweat, felt bloody and weightless, like a shark victim, most of his torn off and the rest helplessly oozing away. Li t t l e b a s tard. Li t t l e fuck. Bitch it. Seth's fingers fumbled for the rope which was torqued backward from the bow. Tall wanted to cry. Seth yanked at the rigid rope, trying to free it from a snag, yanked and yanked like a mad boy.
Seth's sneakers belched as he walked a little further into the clearing. He stopped at the perimeter, where a narrow, overgrown path en tered the woods. He turned his back on Tall, began to piss on some leaves, and called over his shoulder: "We can explore. Don't you want to explore with me? We wouldn't have to tell anybody." "You're nuts. I should have known by the look of you!" The older boy held the boat in stasis with the oar, away from the rocks and the lan ding place. "We're losing the light. If you wanna come back with me, get in here now." Seth c l o s e d his zipper and turned around. "C'mon, there's plenty of light left. We could do so much stuff in there." Seth felt it was the strangest day of his life so far. He had left the top button of his jeans open. "What are you doing?
"Sebastian, help me," Seth purled. He had heard the girls giggling that name outside the window.
Let's go."
"So, go ahead," Seth said. walk in these woods."
"Who told you?" Tall seethed. Seth held fast to the rope. "Who told you my real name?... Oh, her." He looked down at the bowsprit, shaking his head. "I knew I shouldn't of said anything to her." He began to snort. "She can suck my cock. Fuck me. I'll go ask her my self!" He picked up the oar. The rope spring from Seth's hands as Tall pushed off. He was free, sailing. A cool breeze fluttered his shirt open, revealing the waxy muscles, the breeze-prickled skin.
"I'm gonna take a
"I will leave, you know." "Fine," the boy said with trembling insolence. "If you don't wanna stay with me, go on home." "I will," Tall repeated unsteadily. He put down the oar and placed a hand on the steering wheel. "You think I'm kidding." He jiggled the key in the ignition.
"Hey, kid!
Seth sat Indian-styled in the sand and tapped a stick at the water's edge. "She likes you, you know," Seth said.
Seth felt stunned, precarious, dizzy--as if falling backward. The muskellunge, that ter rible northern pike, puts up a terrific fight. After an hour the f i s h e r m a n may think the battle over and lean back to get the net, the taste foreshadowing in his mouth, but it's not over; the muskie spits the hook right into his face. Even if the fisherman doesn't fall out the other side of the boat, it's a shock: fast, then loose, then gone, then the hot breath of melancholy all the way back to the fishing lodge. Fast, then loose. Tail's shadow flut tered over the beveled lake surface like the retreating banner. For the first time, Seth felt the trauma of the loose fish and the hot bre a t h of m e l a n c h o l y . A c r e s c e n t of foam circled away from the island. In a few seconds
"Who?" "Nah— I have to whisper it in your ear. secret."
It's a
"Listen: I couldn't care less about your little secret, which I know what it is already." It's not what you think. It's that girl back at the cabins, the one with the--you know, knockers." The word fell awkwardly from his lips. "Did she demanded.
say
something
about
me? "
I hope you can swim."
Tall
(CONTINUED ON PACE 53 > a
{ ‘U f a # '
I
• ---------------------- ---- ------------------------- ------ ------ILLUSTRATION BY JIM JACKSON
w
w w h e n I was offered the position in Kankakee, Nick insisted that I take it.
Nick didn't want me to leave him, though. He wanted to move to Illinois with me. "That's really ridiculous," I told him. "Your doctor is here. Your family is here. All of our friends are here. We can't just vanish. We belong here."
We argued about it for days. We'd been to gether only two years and it was the first time we had seriously disagreed on anything. I thought we were a perfect match; I'd never met anyone who balanced me the way Nick did. He moved easily and impulsively through the busy world around us, while I was more cautious, more deliberate. He would keep me awake late into the night with long, vivid accounts of his childhood, or descriptions of the people he'd met on the subway that day, or the plot of a dream he'd had some nights before. Early in the morning he would wake me with kisses, rous ing me reluctant and grumpy from sleep for quick, playful lovemaking before we went off to our jobs. I didn't always understand him-sometimes he would disappear into himself until I couldn't find him at all; always I felt that he was ahead of me, leading the way to some place I'd never known before. I was content to follow him there, wherever it might be— but I couldn't leave him.
But Nick didn't see it that way. He kept say ing that he wanted to go, that he'd rather go than stay in the city. "You're not saying that just because you think I want that job, are you?" I asked. He finally looked me in the eye and simply told me that he didn't want to die in New York. "He has a point," Mildred told me. She was his doctor, a boisterous gray-haired woman who had stayed beside Nick ever since the first diag nosis. "New York City is no place to die." "People die here all the time," was my half hearted reply.
And Nick was dying.
"Yes, but would they choose to, if they could? Nick seems to have been thinking about his death. It's the last statement he can make about himself."
"Don't ask me to move away," I begged him. "Don't ask me to leave you now." *3 O
"Nick was born and raised here," I told Mil dred. "Neither of us has ever been to the Midwest. We'd be lost there. I know X would." "It could very well be the best thing for Nick, you know. Getting him out of the city. I won't pretend to think it would be easy for you, but for his sake, you should consider the idea seriously." "I don't think he knows what he's asking. I don't think he realizes that he won't be happy there." "You're presuming he won't be happy. I think he will." She paused. "I don't know anything about your job offer," she said quietly. "Does it have to be— permanent?" I shook my head. Mildred looked at me, weighing her words. could maybe move back here then, after." I nodded.
"You
We moved in December.
The house Nick insisted we rent was a grand brick monster that sat along one of the older avenues in Kankakee. A giant maple tree stood on the lawn, and an ancient cast iron fence followed the sidewalk along the street. The parlor had a great high ceiling and a bay win dow, where Nick placed his chair to watch to town go by while I was at work during the day. He contacted the local group whose volunteers worked with his disease and soon had several friends who visited on a regular basis. It was like him to make friends quickly, and I was secretly thankful for them; they helped take the edge off my loneliness as well. Kankakee was a shock to me; I missed the energy and movement of New York that I had lived with for years. But Nick loved the small town. He started going out on his own, short walks to the li brary mostly, and his appetite improved. Be tween the first visit to his new doctor in Chicago and the second, Nick g a i n e d seven pounds. Mildred called after we'd lived there a couple of months. "You wouldn't believe the change in him," I told her. "He seems so much better." "What did I tell you?" Mildred scolded. "The city c o u l d make a n y o n e sick. I'm not surprised." "Mildred, there's something I've wanted to ask you. Where are you from, I mean, before you came to New York?" She laughed loudly. "Iowa, thought maybe New Jersey?"
of course!
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One evening I came home and found Nick waiting eagerly for me. He'd gone to the library that afternoon, he said, and had heard a talk on the tallgrass prairies that had once covered much of Illinois. I'd never know him to be much of a nature enthusiast, but he rattled on for hours about the different grasses and flowers that had once composed the landscape before the settlers had broken the land nd started rais ing crops and livestock. The naturalist who had given the lecture had drawn Nick a map showing where to find some of the nature pre
serves that still in them, and Nick summer, when the I'd drive him out
had prairie species growing made me promise that in the flowers were in full bloom, to see them.
When I asked him what made him so taken with the subject, he said it was the prairie fires. Every few years the prairie would burn, the fires set by Indians--who called the blazes "Red Buffalo"— or started by lightning. Pio neers who saw the fires before the land was broken and plowed told of great walls of flame that rose thirty feet or more and were driven by the wind as quickly as forty miles an hour. While the fires were devastating to homesteads and small farms, they were part of the prai rie's cycle of life. The roots of prairie plants go so deep, Nick told me, that they would stay alive while weeds and trees, which grew quickly and robbed water and nutrients from the prairie species, died in the fire. The spring following the fire, the prairie would begin fresh, wholly new, warmed by the sunlight on the scorched soil and fed by the burnt remains of the previous seasons' growths. "I still don't get it," I said. He told me that the prairie was a metaphor for him, the weeds were his disease, and all we needed to eradicate the plague was a great, wind-driven fire--a stampeding herd of Red Buffalo. I tried, but I couldn't follow his argument. His enthusiasm for prairies did die down, al though from time to time he would remind me of my promise to take him to the preserve. In M arch Nick went to an art store, where he bought charcoals and canvas and started doing drawings of the flowers from photographs in books. I couldn't recall that he'd ever drawn anything in his life, but I had to admit that for a novice, the sketches he did were very nice. He gained twelve more pounds. The first weekend in May he talked me into taking him to one of the preserves, even though it was still too early for the grasses to be at full growth. After a forty-five minute drive we pulled down a gravel lane and stopped next to a sign designating a prairie preserve, the land owned by the state. It was a brilliant, vivid day; the pale blue sky extended in every direction— beyond any thing I could have imagined in New York, be yond, it seemed, my childhood perceptions of what a never-ending universe would be like. On the left side of the road a field covered with rows of green, ankle-high corn stretched off toward a farm house and a cluster of red barns, over a mile away. The preserve itself, over twenty-five acres according to Nick, was no thing more than a rolling field covered with green, yellow and brown grasses, none more than knee-high, with a few small flowers that looked mostly like dandelions and lots of dead stalks left from the year before. I hadn't expected much, and wasn't disappointed. Nick got out of the car and, having nothing else to do, I got out as well. In spite of its dullness, Nick seemed mesmerized by the land spread out before him. He walked into the ditch along the road, stepped across the muddy
bottom and went on up past the sign. I leaned against the car and watched him as he wandered out into the grass and finally stopped at the top of a tiny knoll in the field. He turned, slowly, a full circle, looking out toward the horizon, miles away in every direction. When he faced me I waved to him. He didn't wave back. After a few minutes he started walking back to the car. When he reached the sign he stopped and smiled at me, then knelt down and scooped up some dirt in his hand. He held it out to ward me and told me to look at it; it was prai rie soil. It would protect us from the fire, he said; it would p r e s e r v e our souls. He looked at the clods in his palm for a moment or two, then, before I knew what he was doing, he ate them. "He's eating dirt nowl" I wailed on the phone to Mildred. "And if that's not enough, I had to pull eight ticks off of him. Eight!" "Humor him," she told me. He got suddenly worse after that day, and by the end of July weighed less than he ever had before we moved. He spent almost all of his time in bed, his sketches of prairie flowers covering the walls. To my knowledge, he'd never a ctu a l l y seen any of those flowers blooming. I was cleaning him up one day and off-handedly joked that it was the dirt he had eaten that had made him worse. He looked angry, and told me never to talk like that. The prairie might hear me, he said. By the second week in August, I was driving him to Chicago twice a week to see the doctor, and volunteers from the local group were sitting with him while I worked during the day. He was less and less Nick to me, and more and more something that had to be constantly watched and cared for, like a new puppy or an old grand parent. I was numb by then, I guess. I couldn't recall ever falling in love with him, living in New York with him, or even moving to Kankakee. It seemed I'd always been there, living in that house and taking care of him. I calmly dealt with each delirium, each attack as it came; when he was quiet I sat in his chair at the bay window and waited for him to need me again. I never thought about the time before Nick got sick. I never thought about after, either, which the doctor told me would come very soon. One morning I found Nick awake and coherent. He asked me if the flowers were in bloom yet, and dumbly, I didn't know what he was talking about. The prairie, he said. I sighed and said yes, probably, the flowers on the prairie were in bloom. "I want to see them.
sky, all blue. But the corn in the field was already taller than my head, and I could no longer see the farmhouse or the barns beyond. The preserve was nothing like it was a couple months earlier, either. It was thick with growth; thin brown stalks with tufted tops and wider, bluish-green grasses that looked to be over seven feet tall. T h e r e were smaller thick-stemmed plants with flowers of pink and red, but overall the field was clogged with great stalks of sunflowers, taller than any man, brilliant clusters that glowed as deep a yellow as the sky did blue. The whole field seemed as if it were covered with forest, the stalks like miniature trees, and flowers that exploded with solar radiance. Hundreds of soft yellow butterflies danced above the blooms, as if the flowers were tossing their petals into the air as part of some sort of joyous summer time celebration. There was a steady, elec trical insect hum and the occasional breath of wind; all else was silence. Nick was trembling, and I held his hand. He looked at the flowers for a long, long time, then turned to me, whispered his thanks and added that he loved me. Then, to my great surprise, he opened the door and got out. I was helpless to stop him. I sat behind the wheel and watched as he slipped his robe off, then his pyj a m a s . Naked, he crept s l owly across the gravel and carefully, painfully, crossed the ditch. He walked up to the sign, turned and gave me a last look, a last smile, then p u s h e d his way into the g r a s s e s and disappeared. I don't know how long I sat there waiting, waiting, before I realized what had happened, I jumpe d from the car and d a s h e d into the There was choking growth, screaming his name. no answe r, only the eerie whine of the insects, I could see clearly where he'd walked; the grasses were trampled and the flowers were bent . I f o l l o w e d his trail, s n a p p i n g and break ing the stalks as I flailed about, flinging the flowers aside as j. cried out his name, Then, abr u p t l y , his trail over an d over. stopped. There was no sign of him. I knelt, spinning around and parting the stems, but there was no trail, no crushed stalks, no footprints on the hard dry soil. I stood again and realized I was on the little knoll he had stood on that day only a few short weeks before, when I had waved and he hadn't waved back. It all came to me then, finally, and I sank to the ground, s u r r o u n d e d by b r i g h t y e l l o w f l o w e r s that towered above me, and cried for what I had lost and for what I had not yet found. When I looked up again, I saw several soft yellow butterflies burst from the center of one of the flowers and fly into the sun.
Please."
The doctor had told me not to move him unless it was absolutely necessary. I thought briefly about calling Mildred, but then realized I already knew what she would tell me to do. I helped Nick into clean pyjamas and a robe, then picked him up and carried him to the car. The weather was exactly like it was the first time we drove out there, bright, clear, all
I searched every day for a week but could find no trace of him. I told the people in Kankakee that I had taken him to Chicago, where he had finally died and was cremated; I told his fami ly and friends in New York when I returned there for the funeral that I had had him cre mated in Kankakee. I bought an urn at a funer al home, then went to the preserve and filled it with prairie soil and flower petals. No one ever knew the difference.
32
I drove back to the prairie the next spring. I was still several miles away when I saw a cloud of smoke; the Red Buffalo had come back to the prairie. There were several small fires in different parts of the field, burning slowly, sending off thick gray smoke. Some fires burned unatten ded, others were watched by state park rangers and fire fighters wearing tall black rubber boots. Every few minutes someone would take a single stride forward, following a line of flames as it inched along. Some waved tarps to direct the fires, others stomped on smoldering brush to keep the flames from rekindling. Two fire fighters stood at their truck and made certain that the fire didn't spread into the neighboring farm land. One of the men wearing a ranger's uniform saw me watching and came over to introduce myself. "This is the most important time of all for the prairie," he told me. "Without the fire, the dead brush chokes it out. The fire purifies the land. What comes up this summer will be pure prairie, the way nature meant this land to be. It's quite stunning; you'll have to come see it." I assured him that I would.
•THE TRAUMA OF LOOSE FISH* Continued fron Page 49 it lapped at Seth's feet. Seth saw Tall jaun tily steering and looking ahead, pretending not to care; he craned his neck as far as he could until Tall disappeared. The muffled roar slow ly diminished. When the rain began again, Seth ran shivering into the water, crying. He was knee-deep in the lake when he again heard the soft churning of the outboard; it crescendo'd as Tail's boat came into view. Tall wore a slicker; when he saw his new friend shivering in the water, whimpering, he felt pity and pride. "I knew you'd come around." As the boat slipped si lently into the shade he held out his hand to Seth, who stopped quaking. The quicksilver eyes had deadened to the color of the sky. "Oh my God," said the younger boy. blooped all around.
Raindrops
"What. What is it now?" Seth's right hand opened slightly, like a gunfighter's , and he c r o u c h e d down until the seat of his pants touched water. His fingertips hovered just above the rain-beveled surface. "What the fuck?"
"But I'll let you on a secret that not many people know. In about a month you'll likely find a few clusters of tiny white orchids. They're very rare, and only come up right after the land's been burned. And since we only burn it every five years or so, if you miss them this year, you'll have a long wait before you can see them again." I watched the flames cross the knoll, burning the dead stalks of the flowers that had been so vivid the summer before. The smoke rolled into the sky, the ground charred and blackened, the fire softly crackled. The final stage in the life cycle of the prairie had occurred. I'm sitting on the knoll now, waiting for the prairie to return. The naturalist was right; I am surrounded in all directions with hundreds of tiny white orchids, and everywhere green shoots mark the return of the great grasses and flowers, their roots still alive, deep, deep below the burnt surface of the earth. Two weeks after Nick's funeral, Mildred told me that I was no longer healthy; the same disease that had chosen him had come for me as well. I have come back to Kankakee, to sit in his room surrounded by his sketches, to watch at his window as the world goes by. Now I have come here, to sit on this knoll, to wait for the summer sun to come, to wait for the great gras ses of the prairie to grow up around me and surround me, to wait for the prairie to take me deep, deep below the surface of the earth, to a place where the roots go so deep that even the fiery Red Buffalo cannot kill them. We will be safe there; the prairie soil will protect us. And when we grow again/ it will be into a world purified, a world without weeds, a world of sun and wind and soft yellow butterflies. Nick has left me a map, and I will follow it to him.
?> 3
The boy thrust his hand into the water and withdrew it clutching a sunfish the thickness of a sirloin steak. A solid piece of muscle, it wriggled violently, and Seth fought to hold on, to adjust his grip, to throw it into the boat, to wrench some measure of muscle from a dry, bony day. The sunfish smashed through Seth's resolve, flopped into the water and zoomed off. In the space between Seth's thumb and forefinger, dots of blood appeared, as if from a rose prick. "Shit, it bit me!" Seth yelled. "Give it here," Tall snapped as Seth slogged to the boat, whimpering, offering the aching palm. He gave a c u r s o r y e x a m i n a t i o n . "Nah, the s pines got you. To l d ya. Y o u ' r e a crazy little mothersucker, ya know that?" Tail's boat ripped through another shower which was making its way north toward the island; at twilight, as the boat slid into the dock, Tall saw the girl of whom Seth had spoken; he tied up and headed in her direction, calling, "You dropped something!" Seth immediately saw the rain-ruined picture book lying open on the grass, the drawings of exotic fish hideously bubbled and distorted, eaten away; trying to protect his swollen hand as he climbed out of the boat, he fell onto the dock and lay on his back, sobbing, until a lightning bolt cracked and his mother called his name.
We'll spend most all of this evening a cookin' 'em up for earnin' and freezin'. Heck there's enough in this c : mornings pick to give us homemade ketchup, stewed tomatoes, pickled beets kraut, and fres -frozen vittles fer a couple of months alone.
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It sure is hot work a tendin' garden here on top this hill. That ole sun can bake ya in a flat minute out here. Sure; the Ozark climate is one of the best there is fer growin' things. We been havin' plenty of rain and sunlight to nuture our plants this season; so this crop is really no surprise. I tease Mountain Boy all the time about us out there a waterin' the crops with our sweat on these hotter days.
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I just had a fantastic ideal I!
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Since all the crop is already gathered in; let's all go down to the swimmin' hole fer some skinnydippin'.
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Why; that's a major part of every country boys growin' up I Ya'll just got to try it.
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Heck; the last time we counted, there was over 50 well-known popular skinnydippin' spots in the four county area of Northwest Arkansas alone. Why; I bet there ain't an adult male in the Ozarks what ain't never been down to the skinnydippin' hole.
IV
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Let's see; with as many people as we got here, there's lots of good places we could go to. How about the Wreck Hole? It's just south of Fayetteville outside West Fork, Arkansas off State Road 170. It's been a bastion of skin nydippin' for over 100 years in this area. Wreck Hole got its name from a huge train wreck that occurred here in the 1930's --leaving rail cars deposited all over the area. A lot of local families use the area for summer swimmin' and fishin'. But just down-stream a few yards is the local nude sun and swim spot. This area is 'specially popular with the night time crowd and the nearby Univ. of Arkansas students.
v| £^ I t?Terry Deliinonf j GRAPHICS BY TERRY, TOO!
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Ya'll ain't never been skinnydippin'? I
Then, of course; there's Flat Rock. It's lo cated on the East Fork of the White River on the edge of Madison County. Flat Rock is, by far, the most popular skinnydippin' sight in Arkansas. Here,the rapids of the East Fork cascade into a ; Arkansas. Here, the rapids of the East Fork cascade into a large open basin surrounded by extremely large flat rocks instead of gravel shore line. The clear, brisk water makes a perfect pool for an entire day of natural sun. Trout, bass, and catfish are even plentiful here; so many are found nude sunbathing and fishing at the same time. In fact; every July the National Nature Day for the U.S. is celebrated here with nude cook-outs, camping, canoe rides and folk music.
ell, I'll be I Look a' here, Mountain Boy. If it ain't all our RFD friends back up here to Rocky Top fer a visit I
It's so good to see ya'll againl Come on up here on the porch and sit a spell whilst Mountain Boy and I dust off some of the dirt from our work in the garden. Yea; we been a workin' some every day with our vegetables. Harvest really shows it too. Thera buckets Mountain Boy is a totin' i n c M c is just from today's pickin'. We got fresh green beans, big ole beets, hamburger size onions, lettuce, mouth-waterin' turnips, summer squash, nice bell peppers, cabbage, cauliflower, ami a full half bucket of ripe tomatoes today.
However, if yer taste runs more like Mountain Boys and mine, ya'll might prefer more privacy away from large crowds. That bein' the case; ya'll would really like
5
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Ten Mile Rock. It’s the easiest spot to find in the Ozarks; yet doesn't lend itself to large crowds. All ya have to do is follow US 71 south of West Fork, Arkansas about two miles. You'll find a very large rock there sitting between the highway and the river. Park near the rock and follow the footpath on its north side down to the waters edge. That rock is exactly 10 miles south of Fayetteville - — thus the name it's held so proudly all these years. Occasionally, families come here to fish; but usually it's a peaceful private haven. Short skinnydips are often shared here by carpenters, brick layers, and laborers after a hot days work on their way home. There's a large rock for sunbathing and good swimmin' up a small inlet of the river. Shoot fire; that's only three spots off a list that's as long as yer arm. I could go on all day and probably never cover 'em all. When I first came to these hills, I didn't have the foggiest idea where any of these spots was. But it sure didn't take long fer the locals to point 'em out fer me. That was goin' at it the hard way I know. Nowadays ya'll got a much better outlet oi in formation available. Grab ya a piece of paper and jot this down. Ya writes to the Naturalist Society; P.0. Box 132, Oshkosh, WI 54902. They'll send you all kinds of sunnin' information about the Ozarks. We been nationally registered around these parts just for them that wants to experience a touch of real ole country relaxin'. After all; when it celebrated its 150th birthday as a state, Arkansas adopted the slogan "Arkansas is a Natural". Now don't that beat all I What?
Oh, don't ya'll git yourselves all in a dither. That loud noise you're a hearin' is just our peacock cuttin' loose with his matin' call. Sakes alive; that's right! We ain't never in troduced ya'll to any of our livestock; have we? Well' gather yerselves up and let's take a stroll down through the breeder pens. Here at Rocky Top, we've been a buildin' up a small zoo all our own --- sorta speak. These pens house peacocks, quail, pheasants, guineas, turkeys, ringnecked doves, tufted ducks, run ning ducks, rabbits, and our own personal breed of chicken that we call the Hillbilly Hen. They're all our pride and joy right now; but we're only gettin' started. Mountain Boy has a real tender, special way with animals. We treat 'em just like they was kinfolk and we been gettin' great results. See; we been a workin' with the local Humane Society at prividin' a new home for some of their abandoned animals --- 'specially birds. It helps them with animals they couldn't other wise handle; and it sure gives us an enter tainin' variety here at the farm. Don't git me wrong; none of these animals is fer sale. They're all here permanent; to live out their lives in peace. In the future there might be young to sell out; but fer now we're still a growin'. Sure enough; yet this summer, we hope to add geese, fantail doves, mandrin ducks, some silver fox pups, and maybe even pygmy ponies. Ya'll will have to visit more often so you can see each new addition as it comes along. Take care now; play safe; and don't let the coals die in the campfire.
EDITOR' S NOTE: We are as proud as we can be to let ya'll know that our very own Rocky Top Hillbilly has been elected Golden Poet of 1989 by the World of Poetry Press. WOW!
5 5
I was also pleased to see the author's respect for Edward Carpenter, and his vision of the Uranian people, a man which he says was way ahead of his time, as indeed he was. Fernbach distinguishes homosexuality from gay ness. Homosexuality is noted as having been accepted within certain boundaries by many societies throughout history, but the author shows that this acceptance has been in rather unstable ways, has by no means threatened the gender system, and has usually involved some form of oppression. It is clear that we cannot regress to some Golden Age. Gay "lifestyle" of the present day is presented as something not completely chosen, but in many ways involves adaptations to oppression. Our general exclu sion from child care is an example of that oppression.
Aivr-on Publication!., button, 236 p d . R p v ve w e d
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I came upon this book while compiling a recom mended reading list for local gays interested in the Radical Faeries. (For a copy of the suggested reading list for Radical Faeries, send SASE to: Dallas Faerie Circle, P.0. Box 191211, Dallas, TX 75219.) The list grew quite long, but his book, along with Mark Thompson's Gay Spirit, would stand out as essential. The Spiral Path offers wonderful insight into the formation of cultures. The author shows that even in primal societies this has included the adoption of warfare as a result of avail able land being taken up by expanding popula tions. Fernbach goes on to say that this de velopment of warfare has been the primary rea son for the institutionalization of the gender system, a sexual division of labor, i.e., war riors and homemakers. The general roles of "proper man" and "proper woman" that the gender system lays out for us are discussed, including the attunement to violence and the masculinization process for males. Those of us who are gay are of course seen as having resisted this process. Fernbach notes that even those of the "butch shift" whose fetishes involve the desire to make it with a "real man" have retained more feminine qualities than most heterosexual men. Also, the author allows for the "soft heterosexual," makes the point that lines are not always easi ly drawn, and that indoctrination into the gender system is by no means automatic. To quote: "For all men, the norm of masculinity means a degree of self-oppression...." Speaking for myself, I don't think I will ever fully internalize an understanding of what is meant by the terms "feminine" and "masculine" beyond anatomy." I have never seen the quali ties of nurturance or violence (covert as well as overt) being the exclusive domain of either sex. Fernbach lessens the importance of this enigma with the gender system concept, simply a pattern of organizing society into which we are expected to be molded from birth--a pattern which is now out of date, the erosion of which we seen in the present time, and which is due for a b o l i t i o n in the i n t e r e s t of h u m a n survival.
The author recognizes gayness as not innate behavior, and also the plasticity and adapta bility of human sexuality. He notes that it is entirely possible for the majority of humans to choose same sex partners rather than a minority (an encouraging thought!). The sexual division of labor, not the desire to procreate, is shown to be the real reason for the predominance of heterosexuality. At any rate, the relationship of equals, not of oppressors and oppressed, is seen as the ideal. The author also touches on the desirability of communal living and child care, as well as genetically planned and non-uterine reproduc tion. I do, however, question whether most women would view pregnancy as a form of oppres sion, and whether a laboratory could ever be a satisfactory substitute for the womb. The author does recognize the possibility of misuse of genetic engineering, as well as of artifi cial intelligence, by a still intact class and gender system. As a socialist, Fernbach has quite a lot to say about gay people in relation to Marxist, so cialist, or communist systems of government, and covers the advantages and also the histor ical failures of these philosophies in great detail. He notes how these systems, coverging with capitalist systems in the interest of imperialist consumerism, have failed to dis mantle the gender system, even while claiming to be pro-feminist. Fernbach analyzes major world problems from a British socialist perspective, and clearly looks forward to better days ahead. The author discusses in some detail the twin problems of nuclear weapons and nuclear power, which he shows to be the most likely choices for con flict resolution and energy product ion by the present class system in its linear production/ c o n s u m e r i s m mode. M e a n w h i l e , h u m a n i t y is threatened with a setback in our evolution from which we may not recover, and with pollution on a g r a n d e r scale than we have e very known. Nearly a decade after the book's publication, these p r o b l e m s have u n f o r t u n a t e l y only worsened. Will super computers have the capacity of feel ing? And what about that which produces and controls them at the present time, a scientific thought mode reared in a class society? Fern bach tackles these issues, as well as such things as the destitution of large sections of humanity and the extinction of species. €>
Solutions?
ciple of social relations, we must put love."
I will quote:
n [T]he transition to communism, the establish ment of a new harmony based on the abolition of gender and societal conflict, is made necessary by the crisis of the present system. And the new relationship with our environment that makes a communist society possible is scientif ic technology." "Ultimately, scientific technology is radically incompatible with the relations of violent conflict, based on the gender system, that structure the world of class society." "But we can only work out a way of averting these perils [nuclear, ecological, etc. as discussed above] by understanding the particu lar forms assumed by the class system, imperi alism and the East-West conflict, and conse quently the dynamic that lies behind them." "[T]o most people, even those who are them selves m e m b e r s of these o p p r e s s e d gro u p s [blacks, hippies, women, gays] not accounted for in the traditional Marxist model, the idea that any such combination can fill the role of proletariat seems extremely far-fetched. I believe it stems ultimately from the false assumption that radical change is dependent on a pure and uncorrupted subject, and from under standing the dire straits in which our whole society finds itself today, giving even those who are very much corrupted and privileged in the present social system an interest in find ing an alternative that will enable us all to survive." The major problems facing the world today as seen by widely different people are noted by Fernbach as being perceived by these people from three main perspectives: socialist, eco logical, and feminist. Fernbach calls fro an integration of these perspectives into a radi cal movement. What about the gay contribution to this movement? "We, for our part, refuse to accept that we are permanently set apart as a minority. This is a static view of the situation; viewed dynamical ly, we are the thin end of a wedge." "U]ust as the concept of gay or homosexual, as a deviant minority, only came into being at a certain point in historical development, so we can already anticipate the time when the di chotomy between gay and straight will give way to something else." "Gayness is the wedge that splits open the gender system, in which feminine women and masculine men fit together in the sexual divi sion of labor: a double wedge in fact, as the rejection of heterosexuality and all it implies proceeds in parallel among both women and men." "[A]s more and more people follow our lead and the gender system crumbles, we shall have to redefine ourselves, no longer as a deviant minority but as the new majority, able to re late among ourselves both w i t M n and across the biological division of sex, and having only Pity for the stubborn minor y who still cling for a while to the traditioi 1 faith." "In place of violence as the organizing
After covering the illusions of camp and gen der-fuck, Fernbach calls for a "higher camp." "Ho longer accepting society's definition of us as perverted, we have come to understand that it is society that is perverted and needs our help. The abolition of gender is not just a requirement of gay liberation, but of human liberation in general." "The ultimate reality of the consciousness that guides us is precisely a non-reality, not in the sense that the stuff of consciousness, the vibration, the field of force, does not exist (or there would be nothing to be non-conscious of), but in the sense that any pattern it is given captures merely a fleeting moment of the infinite flux, before melting away in an ironic parody of itself." What else can be said?
TH ER E
Read the book!
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fc > y Jacques.
Lusceyran
Parabola Revi ewed
Books to y C1 er e
If someone comes into the bookstore and says, "I'm looking for a good book to read--do you have any recommendations?" this is the book (along with Education of Little T ree) that I'll always recommend. It's been out-of-print for about 20 years and I've personally been looking for a copy for 13 years. Now that Parabola has re-published it all I can say is "it was worth the wait!" What an incredible marvelous book! Once you've read it, your copy will instantly become a lending copy because you're gonna want everyone to read it. The writing is intensely beautiful. Briefly stated, it is the autobiography of a French man born in 1924 who because blind thru an accident at age 8. The remarkable thing is that he never took it negatively. In this review all I really want to do is quote vast sections of the book because of its' great beauty. I'll restrain myself to this one quote from the end of the book: "...the two truths, intimately known and reaching beyond all boundaries. The first of these is that joy does not come from outside, for whatever happens to us it is within. The second truth is that light does not come to us from without. Light is in us, even if we have no eyes." Please read this book--you will glowing in your hands. Love Clere.
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G e o r ge R o d e r i c k
It's ironic (or perverse?) that it was a gay therapist who told me to read Intimate Connec tions by David D. Burns, M.D. (New American Library, P.0. Box 999, Bergenfield, NJ 07621. C a t . No. 148452, $4.95). The cover tells us he is also the author of the best-selling Feeling Good, and in the opening pages he is introduced as the President of the Behavioral Sciences Research Foundation and Director of the Institute for Cognitive and Behavioral Therapies at the Presbyterian Uni versity of Pennsylvania Medical Center in Phil adelphia. Watch out, the man is dangerous! In the bookstore I thought I couldn't go wrong at $4.95. Indeed, I learned a lot. I learned how in 1985 (the copyright date) a man with such credentials can be so homophobic. Like many other traits, homophobia can be either by action or by omission. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I believe he falls in the second group. For him, homosexual people don't exist, at least don't have sexual/romantic connection problems worth discussing. The only reference to a potential homosexual was a patient who got cured rather easily. The book's subtitle, "The clinically proven program for making close friends and finding a loving partner," is misleading in its incom pleteness. There are four missing words: For young, affluent heterosexuals. Let's examine each one of these key words. YOUNG (but not too m u c h ) . Older people and teenagers either don't have connection prob lems, or the author doesn't care to discuss them. Of the cases mentioning age, eight are women and eighteen, men. The women's ages range from 19 to 36, median 29. The men, from 22 t o 4 8 , m e d i a n 3 1 . Draw your own conclusions. AFFLUFNT. His instruction to look attractively is to go "to a fashionable men's clothing store ... and select some expensive slacks and a matching silk shirt. Then ... buy some slinky Italian shoes, with a belt and socks of just the right color, along with Hollywood-type wrap-around dark glasses." Dressing to impress is like having a blank book with a beautiful cover. On the basis of cover looks alone, I wouldn't have bought the book in question. As for where to meet inte r e s t i n g people, the author recommends you go on a cruise. Which is good advice, if you can afford it. HETEROSEXUALS. In all the cases mentioned, the individuals were looking for a partner of the opposite sex. On page 239 we learn about Mark, a married man, seeking treatment for his life long homosexual fixation on young boys. After some time on a deceptively simple treatment, on his forty-fifth birthday he was cured. And that's all we learn about the subject.
T h e b o o k has s o m e g o o d p o i n t s , an d s o m e "pearls." Some observations on improving self esteem are good, also those about overcoming impotence and erection anxiety. The author has an extensive praise of flirting. I'll spare you my ideas about it, but I'll quote this passage, "[T]he main purpose of flirting is to have fun.... Many people feel inhibited about flirting in spite of how much fun ... it can be." If you like flirting, you'll have a ball with that chapter. Among the pearls, there's one on page 28, "The second problem that plagues lonely people is ... [t]hey often seem to dislike people of the opposite sex." And on page 136, "Let's face it. Very few people think for themselves." I'll let you think for yourself. the book, and read it.
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I waited until this book came out in paperback before I read it. I just didn't want to spend nearly $20 for it when I knew I could wait a while. I'm glad I waited. Not so much because I saved $15 (eventhough that is a consideration), but by waiting I was not caught up in the Edmund White 'celeb' thing. He came to urination's capitol for a hardcover book signing but I didn't attend. White has left me somewhat cold with his curious Nocturnes and Elena. But A Boy's Own Story was delightful so I ventured on and read this work. First impressions often ring true and my first impression of this work is that the autobiographical tale is about a gay (or queer) Holden Caufield from Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. White chronicles the gay evolution of the kid from his first sisterly intimate relationship with the clearly lesbian Maria through trick after trick after trick after trick after trick (you get the picture!). It's not boring really! Just so fucking real that I had no problem laying the book down often and, picking it up later, I still knew where I/We were. I would certainly recommend this as a very good read. White is truly a masterful writer. But again, I am sure glad I saved $15.
RFD prints contact letters free of charge. We also provide a free forwarding service for readers who prefer not to publish their address. Donations, however, are greatly appreciated. We ask that your letters be brief (under 200 words) and positive in stating your preferences. Saying NO to a particular trait or characteristic way unnecessarily offend a brother. RFD assumes no responsibility for claims made in the letters, and we urge correspondents to exercise caution, especially with any financial dealings. For responses from prisoners we advise contacting Joint Venture, P.0. Box 26-8484, Chicago, IL 60626, before replying.
Dear
De ar RFD, I am a 3 7
year
old
craftsman
who t h r i v e s i n a c o u n t r y a t mosphere and l i v e s i n a s m a l l t own i n s o u t h e a s t Ne w H a mp shire. S u r r o u n d e d by my a n i mals and g a r d e n s , I describe my s e l f a s a R e n a i s s a n c e man who i s r e s p o n s i b l e , s e n s i t i v e , masculine, i n d e p e n d e n t and easy g o in g . I e n jo y most outdoor a c t i v i t i e s : g a r d e n i n g , hiking, canping, biking, boat ing, f a r m i n g t o n a me a f e w . Inside: reading, cooking, woodcarving, c o n v e r s a t i o n an d c u d d l i n g l e a v e me s a t i s f i e d . I h a v e b r o wn h a i r , b l u e e y e s , b e a r d and we i g h 160 l b s . I'm also darned good looking. A lthough the h i l l s o f New Hampshire are b e a u t i f u l , I y e a r n t o l i v e n e a r t h e s e a on a f a r m w i t h a man who s h a r e s my l o v e of the outdoors. S o m e o n e who i s a r u g g e d o u t door ty p e , a l i t t l e rough a r o u n d t h e e d g e s , s o m e o n e who is c o m f o r t a b l e in l e v i s and has a g r e a t laugh, someone q u i t e m a s c u l i n e , s e n s i t i v e and l o v i n g , someone I can become on e w i t h i n t h e w o o d s , i n t h e f i e l d s a n d on t h e s e a . I hope t o m a k e new f r i e n d s a n d p o s sibly f i n d o n e s p e c i a l l o v e r . P l e a s e w r i t e and i n c l u d e a photo i f p o s s i b l e . Thanks. Kerry Bevers tock HC 63 Box 4A S o u t h A c w o r t h , NH 0 3 6 0 7
RFDers,
I am a m a s c u l i n e , down-toe a r t h man i n s e a r c h o f a s o u l nate. Camping, h i k i n g , f i s h i n g a n d c a n o e i n g a r e among my favorite activ ities. But what I r e a l l y e n j o y the most is r o c k mu s i c . I t ' s been a big p a r t o f my l i f e a n d I w o u l d v e r y muc h l i k e t o m e e t a f e l l o w r o c k e r who i s into c o n c e r t s and l i s t e n i n g i n t e n t l y to g o o d a l b u m s . A m o n g my f a v o r i t e s a r e U2 , t h e S t o n e s , D e f L e p p a r d , ZZ Top a n d L y n y r d Skynyrd. I l i k e to b u y r e c o r d s a n d CDs o f m u s i c f r o m t h e 6 0 s to c u r r e n t r e l e a s e s . I'm n o t s u r e why i t i s b u t l i s t e n i n g t o g o o d r o c k t a k e s a wa y the b l u e s and s o o t h e s the soul. And i t ' d b e g r e a t to s h a r e it with someone. I own my own home a n d s ome l a n d b y a river. Wh e n n o t c a m p i n g a n d all, I c u t a n d s p l i t wo o d t o keep both i n s h a p e a n d wa r m d u rin g the w in t e r . To d e scribe myself, 1 am 3 7 , 5 ' 8 " , 1 4 0 w i t h b l a c k h a i r a n d br own eyes. I ' m an honest, s i n c e r e p e r s o n with a good s e n s e of hu mor a n d wo u l d l i k e a c a r i n g , loyal relationship with a masculine i n d i v i d u a l who p o s s e s s e s a s o l i d mind and b o d y , aged 21- 40. Hope I ' v e w r i t t e n e n o u g h to g a i n y o ur i n t e r e s t . K e e p on r o c k i n ' I
Mi ke P . O. Box 6 5 4 P u t n a m, CT 0 6 2 6 0
5< 3
De a r
Friends:
A long-standing interest of m i n e h a s b e e n to e x p l o r e t h e erotic energy in our s e l v e s a n d wa y s t o e n h a n c e a n d p r o l o n g orgasm. We c e l e b r a t e o u r bodies i n ma n y ways and t h e or g as m is the most p o w e r f u l fo r c e . I'd like to s h a r e t e c h n i q u e s o f s e l f - 8 t t r m l a t t on and e r o t i c i s m . Wou l d b e most, interested in h e a r i n g a b ou t training in T o o i s t / T a n t r i c / R e i c h i a n a p p r o a c h e s to m a s s a g e w i t h erotic e n e r g y a n d e n h a n c i n g and p r o l o n g i n g orgasm. 1 <m a GWM , 3 2 , 6 ' 1 " , 1 6 0 9 , d i r t y b l o n d ha i r / b l u e e y e s with a w e l l - b u i l t body, h a i r y c h e s t and b i g b a l l s looking f o r o t h e r s who a r e t r i m and fit. L e t ' s s har e the language o f s e l f - s t i m u l a t i o n , touc h and the c e l e b r a t i o n of the body. Write soon! Pa u l C h a n d l e r P . O. Box 4 3 9 8 A r l i n g t o n , VA 2 2 2 0 4
H i 7 : , My name i s B i l l . I am a r o m a n t i c r e n a i s s a n c e man who Is s e e k i n g new f r i e n d s and intelligent conversation. I l i k e m e l l o w good t i me s but can w hirl with the r i g h t w h i r l wind. At 4 0 , I h a v e n u t b r o w n h a i r , a z u r e e y e s , an d a b e a r d t h a t w i s h e s to b e n i b b l e d w i t h k is s e s . I am c o m f o r t a b l e s i p p i n g Dorn P e r i g n o n i n e l e gant s urrou ndin g s in a s u i t and t i e , or c o n v e r s i n g o v e r p i n k c h a b l i s wi th f r i e n d s at home o r a t a me n s g a t h e r i n g i n a blue v e lv e t gown w it h pearls. I f you e q u a l l y know y o u r s e l f an d know how t o mak e and e n j o y l i f e ' s m a g i c , s t o p h e r e a n d p u t on y o u r r u b y slippers. I f you are prefer ably but n o t e x c l u s i v e l y , sable c h ested , sumptuously hung lik e King Kong, look l i k e , act l i k e Cary Gran t, ar e over s ix f e e t tall, are b e tween t h i r t y and f i f t y and l i v e a n y w h e r e f r o m NC t o DC d r o p me a p o r t f o l i o a n d I w i l l a n s w e r w i t h s a me . Topics for c o n v e r s a t i o n A: a l l a b o u t y o u . B : me ? I like rhythm an d b l u e s , e u r o p e an h i s t o r y , and silver screen movies. Com p o s e d l y a wa iti ng your c a l l i n g cards, letters of introduc t i o n , a n d sultry simmer m i s sives to be r e a d by b e d s i d e fa lr y lig h t i n my s e a s i d e salon. Sincerely c o u l d be yours, Merry M e a t i n g s ,
type p e rs o n a lity . Among o t h e r s , my i n t e r e s t s a r e g a r dening, a r t , movies, cooking, s wi m m i n g , fishing, flea-mar keting.... I f you can h o n e s t l y a n s w e r ( Y E S ) t o mo s t o f t h e b e l o w p l e a s e w r i t e and s e n d a re c e n t photo. Gay/white/male/ b a la n ce d/ m as cu l ine man/recent HI V t e s t n e g a t i v e / s o b e r and drug free/non-smoker/comfortably gay/not c u rr e n tly in a relationship/bright/monogamous spiritually conscious/have a job or vocation/self-supporting and self-motivated/nea t t o r e a s o n a b l y t i d y / s e x u a l l y no roles/honest/between twentyfive and f i f t y - f i v e / l i k e c a t s and n a t u r e . Bil l P . O. Box 5 3 0 Virgin ia Beach,
Dear B i l l Armstrong 6 1 3 - 1 3s t V i r g i n i a Beach,
Hi
VA 2 3 4 5 1
Guys,
My n a me
is B i l l . I am f o r t y old, g a y , w h it e and male. I h a v e b e e n sober a n d d r u g f r e e f o r e i g h t y e a r s and a non-smoker f or t h r e e y e a r s . I am a n a r t i s t , d e s i g n e r a n d v e r y t a l e n t e d and c r e a t i v e man. I am a v e r a g e to g o o d l o o k i n g , n e a t , i n t e l l i g e n t an d witty. I am s i x f e e t tall, two h u n d r e d p o u n d s w i t h s a l t e d brown h a i r a n d a f u l l g r e y b e a r d ( whe n s p o r t e d ) a n d g r e y g r e e n eyes. I have bee n out of a s i g n i f i c a n t - o t h e r type r e l a t i o n s h i p for almost six y e a r s , and ha ve wor ke d v e r y h a r d t o g r o w p a s t my own c o dependency and f a n t a s y - r i d d e n bullshit. My l a s t H I V t e s t was n e g a t i v e . I am s e e k i n g friendships and h o p e f u l l y a mo n o g a mo u s healthy relation s h i p with a n o t h e r t r u s t w o r t h y a n d c a r i n g man who w a n t s t o s h a r e i n l i f e a n d who i s w i l l i n g t o s t r u g g l e t o wa r d s i n t i macy and i s n ' t a d e p e n d e n t
years
VA 2 3 4 5 1
Friends,
I am c u r r e n t l y l o o k i n g f o r a r o o n r m t e ( o r p e r h a p s t wo) a n d have d e c i d e d ( a f t e r e x t e n s i v e v i s i t s by Z h o r a a n d B i l l a n d P i n e C o n e ) t h a t 1 wo u l d p r e f e r l i v i n g with a fe llo w f a e r i e . I f you a r e p l a n n i n g to r e l o cate to t h e R a l e i g h / D u r h a m / Chapel H i l l a r e a , p l e a s e w r i t e a n d we can d i s c u s s o u r n e e d s , e x p e c t a t i o n s and f i n a n c e s .
Wayne L i n d s e y WELL HALL 2 2 5 1 Rums on Road R a l e i g h , NC 2 7 6 1 0 - 1 0 3 8 Dear
Kevin
and C a r s o n ,
I a p p r e c i a t e d y o ur e n e r g y and p r e s e n c e at Wi l l ow Hol l ow. I was sorry that I d i d n ' t g e t t o s a y g o o d - b y to y o u b e f o r e yo u l e f t e a r l y on Mo n d a y . I f yo u wo u l d l i k e to be i n c l u d e d in the ga th erin g d ir e c to ry , p l e a s e d r o p me a l i n e a n d i n c l u d e your address. Hope to s e e you a g a i n . Wayne L i n d s e y WELL HALL 2 2 5 1 Rums on Road R a l e i g h , NC 2 7 6 1 0 - 1 0 3 8
6 O
C o n t a c t i n g aga i n - - a n d f o r a purpose other than m e r e l y making c o n t a c t . I wo u l d l i k e t o s u g g e s t t o my g a y b r o t h e r s s o m e t h i n g t h a t t h e y c a n to with them selves for a second c a r e e r - - i n my c a s e it 's a t h i r d - - w h e n t h e y g e t o l d e r or a r e r e t i r e d o r b o r e d a n d want a n e w lease on l i f e : a p p l y f o r a graduate assistantship in s ome s u b j e c t s u c h a s E n g l i s h , history, o r psychology at a u n i v e r s i t y in y o ur a r e a a n d , i f you had d e c e n t g r a d e s in c o l l e g e no m a t t e r how many y e a r s ago it was, you w i l l most l i k e l y be awarded t h i s graduate a s s is ta n t s h ip . If you apply a t a s c h o o l t h a t i s i n t h e s t a t e u n i v e r s i t y system within th e s t a t e w h e r e you l i v e , y o u may s t a n d a b e t t e r chance of r e c e i v i n g the a s s i s t a n t s h ip than f r o m a p r i v a t e university; a n d i f y o u have lived in t h a t s t a t e f o r at l e a s t 12 months, your t u i t i o n w ill be m i n i m a l . In some cases tuition is rem itted entirely. In any c a s e f i n a n c i a l l y y o u w i l l c ome o u t a h e a d and w i l l be d o i n g s o m e t h i n g ex tr e m ely worthwhile fo r yo u r s e l f - - y o u r l i f e w i l l b e i n me a surably en r i c h e d - - and for o t h e r s , b e c a u s e e v e n t u a l l y you will share this knowledge. T h i s i s what I d i d , a n d I h a v e never been ha pp ier . My g r a d u a t e a s s i s t a n t s h i p has been renewed for a second year. When I g e t t h e d e g r e e - - i n t h i s c a s e , MA - - I h o p e to g e t a j o b t e a c h i n g on t h e c o l l e g e l e v e l s om ep la ce - -w he r e ve r the S p i r i t directs. I c ame b a c k t o N o r t h C arolina to r e t i r e and it l o o k e d as i f l i f e was o v e r f o r me . Now I f i n d that it is just beginning, and I t h i n k r e t i rernent is f o r the b i r d s . I will never r e t i r e again. T h e r e is p l e n t y of life in t h i s o l d boy y e t , and I i n t e n d to l i v e i t . Fuck r e t i r e m e n t . You s i m p l y h a v e t o f i n d s o m e t h i n g y o u w a n t t o d o , a n d do it. Or ma y b e s o m e o n e . I have not r e t i r e d in t h at d e p a r t m e n t e i t h e r , a n d i f a n y o n e wa n t s to f i n d out p e r s o n a l l y , l e t him write this gay-and-proud-of-it 62-year-old crewcutted, blue eyed, uncut, t r i m and h e a l t h y m a l e a n d we c a n t a l k a b o u t that too. F o r s ome i n e x p l i c a b l e and p r o b a b l y p e r v e r s e reason I p r e f e r overw eights, but w ill answer a l l . Love you. Tom H o r n e r 8 0 3 E. Fourth S t r e e t G r e e n v i l l e , NC 2 7 8 5 8
I am l o o k i n g f o r QNK s p e c i a l p e r s o n to s h a r e my s e m i - s e c l u d e d m o u n t a i n home and r u r a l c o u n t r y l i f e s t y l e w i t h me. A companion, lover, b u d d y and partner. E v e r y day. Every night. I l i v e a l o n e h e r e in t h i s r e mo t e w i l d e r n e s s a r e a i n s o u t h e a s t Te n n e s s e e in a mod er n s t y l e d , three bedroom log house. I am an a r t i s t , c o n s e r v a t i o n i s t and n a t u r a l i s t ; a t r u e o u t d o o r sm>an. Now t h at my c a r e e r i s e s t a b l i s h e d and I ' m q u i t e s e t t l e d i n my l i f e s t y l e , I am s e e k i n g t h a t qqs. p e r s o n to s h a r e my h a p p i n e s s a n d a one-to-one re la ti o nship . I am 35 , ( a c c o r d i n g t o my l a t e s t p h y s i c a l e v a l u a t i o n I ' m 27) . I am 5 ’ 7" t a l l a n d w e i g h 140 lbs. R e a l i s t i c a l l y speaking I ' m n o t , i n y o u r t e r ms , a h u n k or g o r g e o u s . . . m e r e l y c u t e . I l o v e b e i n g f r i e n d l y and h a p p y , and my b l u e e y e s r e f l e c t t h a t fa c t. I a m a n d must b e s t r a i g h t a c t i n g , du e to h a v i n g grown up i n an " u n t o l e r a t i n g , " somewhat "red-neck" rural m o u nt ai n area where I might not e x a c t l y f i t f o l k s ' de scription o f men and how t h e y s h o u l d l i v e and a c t . (My j o b with it s h ig h p u b l i c v i s i b i l i t y also warrants being "straight a ct in g ." ) Although I h a t e to d i s c l u d e a n y o n e , I m u s t i n s i s t on a f e w t h i n g s . You a l s o s h o u l d be s t r a i g h t acting, (a n o n - s m o k e r i s p r e ferred). Ag e s h o u l d be 25- 40, b e c a u s e my a c t i v e lifestyle p u r s u i t s i n c l u d e h i k i n g , c a mp ing, h u n t i n g , f i s h i n g , b a c k packing, ra p p el lin g, climbing, 4- w h e e l i n g , e t c . You mu s t be c ommi t t a b l e , h e a l t h y , A I D S free, monogamous, e t h i c a l , m o r a l , and d r u g f r e e . Inter ested? C o n t a c t RFD. KWM c / o R F D /59
De ar RFD R e a d e r s :
We o f f e r b e d a n d b r e a k f a s t to gay t r a v e l e r s t h r o u g h m i d d l e Tennessee in o u r l o g home t u c k e d a wa y i n a w o o d e d h o l l o w. We're near 1 - 2 4 as it c r o s s e s M o n t e a g l e m o u n t a i n and the campus o f t he U n i v e r s i t y ° f the South. Write Boxwood C o t t a g e ( o t t . J im G i p s o n ) RFD §1 S e w a n e e , TN 3 7 3 7 5 Phone: ( 6 1 5 ) 5 4 8 - 5 9 1 2
m e n t s s u c h as t h e I r i s h w i r e s t r u n g h a r p and th e hammer dulcimer. I also re s to re coin o p e r a t e d p l a y e r p i a n o s and fairground organs. To a d d a n o t h e r i r o n to the f i r e , I'm Hello,
fixing up an old Victorian
I am M i c h a e l . I enjoy g i v i n g and g e t t i n g l o n g , h e a l i n g , sensual massages. I enjoy kissing, cuddling, laughing, and p l a y i n g w i t h a h a n d s o m e , c a r i n g nxm. I a l s o e n j o y both o r a l and a n a l p l e a s u r e ( u s u a l ly top ) . I l i v e a t a n d am r e s t o r i n g an o l d p l a n t a t i o n h o u s e on 74 p r i v a t e a c r e s . I am s e e k i n g sincere f r i e n d s , h e l p e r s , or a l o v e r . I am affectionate, healthy, nicelooking, clean-shaven, a r t i c u late, s a n e , m asculine, cre a t i v e , i n t e l l i g e n t , and h o n e s t . I am 5- 11, 149 l b s , 34 y e a r s . I h a v e brown hair and g r e e n eyes. 1 enjoy nature, swim ming, gardens, old houses, m e t a p h y s i c s , c a n o e i n g , and natural healing. I a m : an A ri e s, a father, a c h ir o p r a c tor , a m a s s e u r , a n u d i s t , a s p i r i t u a l l y o rie n te d man! I am i n t e r e s t e d i n new t h o u g h t , personal responsibility, and using s e x t o r e a c h / c r e a t e my goals. I am w e l l e d u c a t e d and a l o n g term r e l a t i o n s h i p woul d r e q u i r e t h at we be i n t e l l e c t u a l l y and s p i r i t u a l l y in tune and s h a r e ope n c o n t v u n i c a t i o n . I l i k e d i f f e r e n t t y p e s o f men but esp. love redheads. 1 M U S T r e l a t e t o a man who i s c a r i n g and l o v e s to t o u c h and be t o u c h e d . LOVE and l i g h t and l a u g h t e r , Michael Alan R t . 3 , Box 81 N a t c h e z , MS 39120
Brothers , I f y o u w a l k t h e woods o f c e n tral Indiana, in t h e Wab as h V a l l e y , a n d yo u h e a r t h e h a u n ting a irs of C eltic pa st, w h i c h d r i f t f o r t h f r o m my h a r p o r w h i s t l e , f o l l o w i t , a n d yo u will f i n d a man o f m u s c u l a r b u i l d , d a r k brown h a i r and grey eyes. An A r i e s t h r o u g h & t h r o u g h , F r e n c h , I r i s h & Am. Indian d e s c e n t . T h a t ' s me.
Brian, 33, 5 '11", 195 lbs.
My
great loves are m usic, a n tiq u es, h isto ry , French lan guage, c a n o ein g , camping u n s p o i l e d o u t d o o r and l e a n or m u scular guys with long h a ir and b e a r d s . I am a wood w o r k er by t r a d e . I'v e done a manner o f c a b i n e t r y and h i s torical restoration. Right now I ' m s t a r t i n g my own b u s i ness making musical instru
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house, gaslights and a l l . Sounds lik e a lot for one person? Well, it is . I wo u l d like to m e e t s o m e o n e w i th similar interest, 22-40, to s h a r e a p a r t n e r s h i p in l i f e . I am a P a g a n who l o v e s S a t y r s & C e n t a u r s , magic of times p a s t and the p r o m i s e of the future. I ' ni c o n t r a GQ a n d p r e f e r the s ame . I look f o r wa r d t o h e a r i n g f r o m o t h e r g a y ar ti s t s - - m u s i c i a n s - -and c r a f t s m e n - -w i l l f a i t h f u l l y answer a l l . Can a l s o trade photos. Yours with l o v e - Bri an Thornton 5 0 8 N. 6 t h L a f a y e t t e , IN 4 7 9 0 1
C
w
k o &
l:
W a n t e d , d e c e n t , h o n e s t , clean cut y o u n g man t o a s s i s t w i t h di sc oun t vending b i z . L i v e in a m us t , with l o t s o f c ampi n g , travel, and e n j o y m e n t , good income and excellent com panionship. No e x p e r i e n c e necessary. Ke n Wi c k Rt. 5 B a t a v i a , MI
49036
As a r e a d e r o f ELD I w o n d e r i f there are other readers out t h e r e who wo u l d b e i n t e r e s t e d i n c o n m u n I c a t i n g w i t h me to see i f p e r h a p s we h a v e t h e bases for developing real friendship. I am a m i d - w e s tern academic, i n my m i d - f i f t i e s , who c a r e s g r e a t l y a b o u t war m a n d l o v i n g r e l a t i o n s h i p s , about world a f f a i r s , liberal politics, r e l i g i o u s f a i t h and social ju stice, and about history, i d e a s and g a r d e n i n g . I a l s o have a s e n s e o f humor , and I f i n d I c an o n l y r e l a t e t o o t h e r s who h a v e o n e a s w ell. There i s so muc h to s h a r e and so l i t t l e t i m e : do write.
A Happy Missourian c/o RFD/59
Dear RFD Readers, Attractive, intelligent, and h e a l t h y CVV p a g a n m a l e . Age 2 3 , c u r l y b r o wn h a i r a n d h a z e l eyes. Me d i u m b u i l d . Looking f o r c o n t a c t s i n SW M i s s o u r i o r surrounding states. My i n t e r ests i n c l u d e wi c c a / n e o s h a m a n ism, a n t h r o p o l o g y , h o r s e s , SciFi, and a d v e n t u r e o f a l l kinds. Am s i n c e r e , honest and relationship oriented. I love g a t h e r i n g s an d m a k i n g f r i e n d s , gardening, s c u l p t u r e and magickal toolmaking. I am s e e k ing "someone s p e c i a l " to s h a r e , g r o w an d e x p l o r e w i t h . S o me o n e s t a b l e a n d s e c u r e yet. playful, between (23-37). L i g h t s m o k e r / d r i n k e r OK. All races welcome to respond. Wi l l be r e l o c a t i n g to P a c i f i c Northwest ( Washi ngt on State) e a r l y next summer. Fellow pagans from that area are e s p e c ia lly encouraged to write. B r i g h t b l e s s i n g s and w rit e soon.
Cor in M. C o s t e l l o P. O. Box 6 0 4 3 S p r i n g f i e l d , MO 6 5 8 0 1
Hor s e l o v e r s , 1 am a p o s i t i v e , passionate S c o r p i o , w i t h an e x c i t i n g an d f u l f i l l i n g l i f e , who i s r e l a t i o n s h i p o r i e n t e d and l o o k i n g f o r s o m e o n e to c ome l i v e on my p a r k l i k e 120 a c r e Arab h o r s e farm. C ollege educated, t e a c h e r , a u t h o r and l e c t u r e r . I am y o u n g 5 0 , 5 ' 1 1 " , 1 6 0 # , b r o wn h a i r , b l u e e y e s , s n m o t h , cut. L o o k i n g f o r a man o f a n y a g e to r e l o c a t e t o my f a r m who really l i k e s a n imaIs and p e o p l e a n d wo u l d e n j o y l i v i n g in a b e a u t i f u l , m o u n t a i n o u s , i s o l a t e d s e t t i n g w i t h a beau tiful h o me . P r e f e r h a i r y and uncut, but c r e a t i v e , active sexual a t t i t u d e mo r e i m p o r tant. I am basically b o t t o m , but would l i k e to t r y o t h e r roles. Have a v e r y a c t i v e l i b i d o an d i m a g i n a t i o n . Your g o a l s a n d i n t e r e s t s w i l l b e as i m p o r t a n t t o me as my’ own. I w o n ' t a s k you to c h a n g e . If yo u a r e k i n k y t h a t i s OK. My other interests are astrology, read ing, old ca rs, porno movies, al l kinds of animals, good c o n v e r s a t i o n , and w o r k i n g toward the closeness that c o me s w i t h a g r o w i n g r e l a t i o n ship. If in teres te d send p h o t o and a l e t t e r t e l l i n g a b i t about y o u r s e l f . WS f r o m AR c / o RFD/ 59
Dear RFD Readers, S i n c e my l a s t s e a r c h for a l i k e - m i n d e d r o o mma t e t o o k me 6 months, 1 thought this time I ' d go to th e p l a c e w h e r e l i k e - m i n d e d f o l k s m i g h t be reading. I have a lo v e ly , w aterside, 2-story, rented s t o n e h o u s e to s h a r e . I t has an a u t h e n t i c c o u n t r y f e e l to i t , b e i n g about 100 yards f rom t he n e a r e s t r o a d , out o f s i g h t o f a l l o t h e r c i v i l i z a t i o n , an d s itu a te d between a towering c l i f f and a p i e r , w h e re one can f i s h or l a u n c h a c a n o e . Yet it is w i t h i n the c i t y of A u s t i n , with l e s s than a t e n m i n u t e d r i v e t o do wnt own ( o n c e yo u wa l k to y o u r c a r ) . The e x c i t e m e n t and h i g h c u l t u r e p e r - c a p i ta o f A u s t i n m e e t s a quiet, m editative retrea t. Thus i t c o u l d be p e r f e c t f o r s o m e o n e l i k e me who i s t i e d to a c i t y j o b o r to s c h o o l , y e t who n e e d s p e a c e & q u i e t , b i r d s a n d t r e e s , without a n h o u r ' s c ommut e. Q u i t e a con\f o r t a b l e p l a c e f o r your h a l f the r e n t : $300, all b ills paid. Me n p r e f e r r e d who a r e i n v o l v e d i n s ome s e l f - i m p r o v e m e n t pursuit s u c h as c o l l e g e , a c t i v i s m , o r the a r t s . P l e a s e w r i t e s o we c a n e x c h a n g e p h o n e #s & d i s cuss the p o s s i b i l i t i e s . I would a l s o like to make t h e a c q u a i n t a n c e o f RFD f r i e n d s , p e n p a l s , & o u t d o o r l o v e r s in the c e n t r a l Texas a r e a . I'm 29 , intelligent, funioving, huniorous, amorous, and e c o l o g i c a l l y aware. Need a pal to p l a n e x t e n d e d b a c k p a c k i n g & canoeing t r i p s . A l s o to e n j o y l o c a l t h e a t e r , c o n c e r t s , and sightseeing. (I also need a b o y f r i e n d , b u t we d o n ' t h a v e to g e t i n t o t h a t y e t . . . ) Go well, Bob T. P . O. Box 4 3 9 1 8 A u s t i n , TX 7 8 7 4 5
Contact letters are, for the most part, in zip code order,
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Dear
F e l l o w RFD R e a d e r :
I am i n t e r e s t e d i n e s t a b l i s h ing d i a l o g u e and e x p l o r i n g s u p p o r t in any and a l l o f t h e following areas: Ur b a n l i v i n g with a c o u n t r y c o n s c i o u s n e s s - I was r a i s e d in I r e l a n d and still t h i n k o f t h e y e a r as a f low o f s ea so ns even though I l i v e a n d wo r k i n L o s A n g e l e s . I don't experience c o n flic t, just isolation. C o n t e mp o r a r y Celtic c o n s c i o u s n e s s - - 1 ' m not a pseudo Druid, b u t do f e e l that the s t r e n g t h s of t r a d i tional C eltic so ciety lend t h e m s e l v e s to a b a l a n c e l i f e . J u n g i a n p s y c h o l o g y - - t h e man's own w r i t i n g s , n o t s ome o f t h e more po p u la r a p p l i c a t i o n s of s ome o f h i s p e r i p h e r a l ideas. Traditional religiou s c e l e b r a t i o n - - I 'm a l a p s e d C a t h o l i c and l a c k the inclination to d e n y my s e x u a l i t y t o a c c o mmo d a t e t h e c h u r c h w h i l e at the s ame t i m e e x p e r i e n c e D i g n i t y as b e i n g t o o s e l f - c o n s c i o u s i n their a c tiv itie s. I enjoy t r a d i t i o n a l m o n a s t i c c ommuni ty in t h e i r v i t a l i t y , b ut c h o o s e n o t to t a k e t h a t p a t h . Tradi tional mus ic; Arabic (Yemeni?) society; zen; art; interna tional travel; conversation; home c o o k i n g ; e t c . I'm a h e a l t h y 4 2 , g a i n f u l l y employed a n d i n t e r e s t e d i n g r o w i n g s ome more. All c o r r e s p o n d e n c e will be a n s w e r e d . Namaste.
Brian c/o RFD/59
Greetings in F a i r y l a n d to a l l Sisters and Brothers from Rambo Woma n. I have just moved to t h e Bay A r e a , and wa n t e d t o l e t y o u know t h a t I have s t a r t e d a s e r v i c e that many o f y o u r u r a l g u y s w o u l d appreciate. It is a gay m e n ' s a u d i o / v i d e o / g i f t c l u b that is f o r g u y s who d o n ' t h a v e l o c a l a c c e s s to gay r e l a t e d i t e m s . H a v i n g j u s t mo v e d f r o m a r u r a l a r e a , and n o t b e i n g a b l e to get gay f i l m s , I d e c i d e d that we " r u r a l " types needed to have a v i d e o s e r v i c e o f our own, t h a t c a r r i e s t h e n o n - h a r d core f i l m s . Also for years I h a v e w a n t e d t o g e t h o l d o f Gay Meh n' s Mus i c but c o u l d n ' t f i n d i t , e v e n in l a r g e c i t i e s . So, I a l s o carry a f u l l s e l e c t i o n o f t a p e s / C D s f o r Gay M e h n . Gifts will be a d d e d , as f i nances allow. If i n t e r e s t e d , w rite to R a n d y ' s Rainbow Wo r l d , 7 5 0 La P l a y a , S u i t e 6 6 , San F r a n c i s c o , CA 9 4 1 2 1 for FREE inform ation, or call (415) 586-2742. Also, I am s t i l l l oo ki ng f o r that s p e c i a l husband, companion, part time w i f e , and b e s t f r i e n d . I am 39, a n g l o , 5 ' 10" , b r n / b l u , h u s k y , e d u c a t e d , H I V - n e g , an d one h e l l o f a n i c e g u y . I wo u l d l i k e t o m e e t a m o u n t a i n nxin, who i s m a s c u l i n e ( mo s t o f the t i m e ) , with little body h a i r , and y o u n g e r than m y s e l f , who I c a n r u n o f f t o t h e m a g i c a l m o u n t a i n s o f New M e x i c o with. I d o n ' t s m ok e, or u s e d r u g s , a n d am b a s i c a l l y C h r i s t i a n i n my s p i r i t u a l i t y , w i t h s o me n e w a g e / n a t i v e A m e r i c a n additions. L e t me h e a r f r o m y o u , a n d let's c u d d l e u p a n d p l a y on t h o s e c o l d h i g h m o u n t a i n n i g h t s , w h e r e my w a r m h e a r t and h o t b o d y c a n make you f e e l your back in y o u r m o t h e r ' s womb . Ra n d y , now o f San F r a n c i s c o
I am a 3 0 y e a r o l d g a y w h i t e m a l e , 5 ' 3 " , 134 p o u n d s , b l u e eyes, brown hair streaked grey. I w o u l d l i k e to m e e t o t h e r gay men, bet ween 2 5 - 4 0 years old, m asculine topmen, for friend s, and p o s s i b l e lover. I l i v e in t h e S i e r r a f o o t h i l l s b e t w e e n two o l d g o l d m ining towns. I liv e with f a m i l y on 5 a c r e h o m e s t e a d . My h o b b i e s a r e h i k i n g , c o o k i n g , g a r d e n i n g (my f a v o r i t e ) . I s p e c i a l i z e in g r o w i n g r o s e s , herbs. I am a s p i r i t u a l p e r s o n , and I d o n ' t do a n y k 1 of c h e m i c a l s , a l c o h o l , d r u g s , caffeine, etc. I love n a t u r e , and th e o u t d o o r s . I am a C a n c e r , and I l i k e a s t r o l o g y
a n d t h e "New A g e . " I would like to h e a r f r o m o t h e r gay me n who l i v e i n t h e c o u n t r y , and e n j o y c o u n t r y l i v i n g . Brian Jones 6 7 0 6 F r i c o t C i t y Ro ad S t a r R t . #2 San A n d r e a s , CA 9 5 2 4 9
Hi
Friends:
A f t e r w o r k i n g in F l o r i d a , the C a r i b b e a n , E n g l a n d , Canada and Nevada, I've r e t ir e d to a q u i e t c o u n t r y s p o t on t h e e d g e o f a s m a l l t o wn w h e r e I l o o k on t o f o r e s t e d m o u n t a i n s a n d once agai n e nj o y the c h a l l e n g e of ga r d e n in g. Wi t h e x c e l l e n t h e a lth , evenings of read ing, watching the s ti m u l a t i n g pub lic broadcast programs in f r o n t of a log f i r e , I'd like to s h a r e this with a q u i e t , i n t e l l i g e n t mind of m a t u r i t y and the enjoyment of the c l o s e n e s s o f a n o t h e r body and sex without the continual urgency natural t o young bucks. I•m 6 6 , 5 '6", J6 0 # with a g o o d s e n s e o f humor a n d a modest income. A non-smoker o r d r u g u s e r , I e n j o y an o c c a sional social drink. There could s t i l l be a f a v o r a b l e r e l a t i o n s h i p i f t he o t h e r guy p r e f e r r e d h i s own h o m e , o f which t h e r e a r e a number of m od estly p r i c e d ones in t h e immedi ate a r e a . Rod o f O r e g o n c / o RFD/ 5 9
Dear
Faeries,
I have Faerie, much.
n e v e r met a R a d i c a l b u t wo u l d l i k e t o v e r y I wo u l d l i k e to l e a r n about a s k a n c e d i r e c t a c t i o n . Ar e t h e r e any R a d i c a l F a e r i e s in Or e g on? Any F a e r i e g a t h e r ings? I ' m n o t sure how f a r I c o u l d go a t a F a e r i e g a t h e r i n g r i g h t now, s i n c e i t i s ne w to me , b u t w o u l d l i k e to f i n d out. I ' m k i n d o f a s h y r o ma n t ic idea l i s t . I like ritual and shama nic a c t i v i t i e s . I have dream q u e s t e d . I never had m u s i c l e s s o n s b u t l i k e to p i c k and g r i n . I am 5 9 y e a r s old. I was a p r o f e s s i o n a l f o r e s t e r but q u i t almost twe n t y y e a r s a g o to g o i n t o h e a l t h foods. I w e n t b r o k e a n d am now a s c h o o l custodian, and lik e it p r e t t y w e ll. I love the m ou nt ai ns , t h e woods, t h e r i v e r s a n d l a k e s , an d t h e sea; the n a t u r a l p l a n e t E a r t h . I am a t h l e t i c . I l i k e s wi mmi n g , c o m p e t i t i v e r u n n i n g , and the triathlon. I also like art 6 3
and p o e t r y , e s p e c i a l l y old f a s h i o n e d f ormas. I am a n o n smoker, n e v e r go i n t o b a r s , sometimes d r i n k a bit of wine, a n d am a v e g e t a r i a n . I am also s oni e wh a t p o litica lly a c t i v e in c i v i l r i g h t s , N a t i v e American r i g h t s , a n d e n v i r o n mental issues. I w i l l t r y to answer a l l l e t t e r s . I do n o t h a v e a l o v e r a n d w o u l d n ' t mi n d h a v i n g o n e , b u t my ma i n i n t e r e s t r i g h t no w i s t o m e e t a n y l o c a l R a d i c a l F a e r i e s and to l e a r n o f any g a t h e r i n g s c l o s e e n o u g h f o r me t o a t t e n d . You d o n ' t n e e d to b e a t h l e t i c or a n y o t h e r p a r t i c u l a r way e x cept a F a er ie. Please don't b o t h e r with a p h o t o . Ag e n o t a problem, e i t h e r . P e a c e and love. Don Di mo c k 543 E. C l a y S t r e e t , Mo n mo u t h , OR 9 7 3 6 1
#14
B e l l i n g h a m Men - A r e t h e r e a n y F a i r i e s in F a i r h a v e n who a r e i n t o y o g a , d a n cing, singing, gardening, h i k i n g and b i k i n g ? I ' m new h e r e and s t i l l h a v e n ' t flown i nt o any o f the f l o c k , yet. I'm 33, A ries a n d r e a d y to m e e t ne w f o l k . RAC 2 7 1 7 W'. Map l ewood B e l l i n g h a m , WA 9 8 2 2 5 Dear
Friends,
We'd l i k e to b e g i n m a k i n g c o n t a c t wi th f a e r i e b r o t h e r s in New Z e a l a n d a n d A u s t r a l i a , as we wo u l d l i k e t o mak e a v i s i t in a c o u p l e o f y e a r s , and s e e s o me p o s s i b i l i t i e s for living s o m e w h e r e war m a n d d e l i g h t f u l w h e n we f i n i s h w h a t we a r e needing to do h e r e in the h e a r t l a n d s of the n o r t h . We a r e v e r y i n t e r e s t e d in h e a l i n g and c o m m u n i t y ; I h a ve b e e n a t h e r a p i s t and c o mmu n i t y w o r k er, John a p r o f e s s i o n a l l i b r a r i a n c ome s h a m a n . We l i k e to s i n g and d a n c e , cook t o g e t h e r , go f o r l o n g w a l k s . I w r i t e p o e t r y a n d am w a n t i n g to w r i t e m o r e a n d do s o c i a l wo r k less. J o h n is e x p l o r i n g t he uses of sound, c h a n t i n g and music for h e a l i n g . We 'r e both o p e n to a d v e n t u r e . W e ' r e in an o p e n , c o m m i t t e d r e l a t i o n s hip. S p i r i t u a l i t y and e c s t a s y a r e d e a r to u s . Please write to b e g i n t h i s long-term ex ploration. Yours with l o v e , J a me s F u n m a k e r / J o h n S m i t h T H 3 , 2 7 0 R o s l y n Road W i n n i p e g , MB C a n a d a R3L 0113
My D e a r s ,
I found th ese c o n tact le t t e r s t n my o t h e r pu rse. R eally , they were m e r e l y alaxtlL f o r g o t t e n . LATE TO THE PAS TE- UP:
Hello, My name i s G e n e a n d I ' m i n t e r ested in h e a r i n g a l l about life in c o l l e c t i v e s . Am a l s o interested in l e a r n i n g m or e ab o u t f a e r i e g a t h e r i n g s , home s t e a d i n g , e a r t h m a g i c & natur al h e a l i n g . I l o o k f o r w a r d to my f i r s t ga th erin g soon. A n y o n e i n t e r e s t e d tn s h a r i n g the t r i p 7 I ' m a l s o i n t e r e s t e d In m a k i n g new f r i e n d s . Am e s p e c i a l l y i n t e r e s t e d in m e e t ing one v e r y s p e c i a l dude f o r a life o f mut u a l r e s p e c t , l o v e , n u r t u r i n g & building a home f o r two. I love country boys, especially th ose with l i t t l e o r no b o d y h a i r . My d r e a m i s t o s o m e d a y f i n d my l i t t l e cabin in t h e h i l l s & s h a r e it wi t h that one s p e c i a l guy. B u t f o r n o w am s t u c k
close
to
the
city.
Could
possibly relocate later, or h e l p the r i g h t boy r e l o c a t e h ere. I'm SI, m a s c u lin e , tall, honest, a f f e c t i o n a t e &. very re a l. L o v e t o k i s s &. cuddle. I n t o h o m e l i f e , h o me c o o k i n g , c a m p i n g A. much m o r e . Can entertain weekends if y o u ' r e in t h e a r e a . Hope to hear from you soon. In friendship A love, Ge n e c /o RFD/S9/02115
Dear RFD R e a d e r s , A balance of c i t y (Atlanta, G A ) , c o u n t r y ( b e a c h and mou n tains), spontaneity, organiza tion, r o m an c e and a d v e n t u r e (lov er of l i f e ) best d e s c r ib e s me. I am o n e who e n j o y s t h e t h e a t e r and c u l t u r a l a s p e c t s o f l i f e an d knows how t o b l e n d them t o g e t h e r mother nature w i t h h i k i n g , c a m p i n g , s wi mmi n g and . . . ( much m o r e ) . I'm a m a s c u l i n e 41 y e a r o l d G/ W/ M w i t h b r o wn h a i r an d b l u e e y e s an d s t a n d 5 ' l l " i n a h u s k y 1 9 0 lb. frame. I t is i m p o r t a n t to s a y I do nc.1 smoke or do d r u g s but an occasional bourbon doesn't hurt. My f r i e n d s t e l l me I a s k t o o muc h f r o m a r e l a t i o n s h i p b u t my r e s p o n s e is sim p ly , "I h a v e a l o t to give." I p r e f e r G/ W h e a l t h y m a t u r e m e n 2 5 t o 4 0 who k n o w t h e m s e l v e s and have a p o s i t i v e attitude. Herb c / o RFD/ S' ]
Indian Art USA 15c
4 - H MAN WANTED H e a l t h y , H a i r y , H o r n y a n d Hung I am l o o k i n g f o r t h a t s p e c i a l p e r s o n to s h a r e a monogamous l i f e - l o n g c o mmi t m e n t w i t h . Would like s o m e o n e t h a t i s s t r o n g and m a s c u l i n e to h e l p around the house, yet is g e n t l e and c u d d l y as a t e d d y b e a r in b e d . P r e f e r GWM i n 30's or 4 0 ’ s who i s h o n e s t , HIV n e g . and has a h u s k y build. The mor e b ody h a i r , the b e t t e r . Dark h a i r , d a r k e y e s a n d b e a r d a r e even b e t t e r yet. Mus t b e n e a t a n d c l e a n , n o n - s m o k e r and d o e s n ' t use drugs. I am GWM, 3 5 y e a r s o l d , l i g h t b r o wn h a i r , t T i n n e d b e a r d , g r e e n e y e s , husky b u i l d ( 210 l b s . ) , a v e r a g e body h a i r , HIV n e g . and a n e a t f r e a k . Have a good job and c o m f o r t a b l e h o me on a p p r o x i m a t e l y 5 acres i n r u r a l s e t t i n g i n We s t Virginia. P l e a s e w r i t e and send p h o t o g r a p h , i f p o s s i b l e . Would like to meet you a n d s e e i f we a r e c o m p a t i b l e . Darrel l c / o RF D/ 59
f> a
GWM 3 2 y r s . old, seeking friends. Can h a n d l e a n y o n e f r o m p u n k s to h i p p i e s ( wonrnin encouraged). Mus t b e p e a c e l o v i n g a n d d o w n to e a r t h . Enjoy n a tu re, animals, food ( t o o m u c h ) , m o v i e s o l d t o n e w, e c l e c t i c music tast es (except p o p ) , and j u s t h a n g i n g o u t . I d o s m o k e , b u t am c o u r t e o u s about it. H o p e t o h e a r f r o m y'all out t h e r e . Peace to all. C l a u d e f r o m C o l u n . b u s , OH c / o R F D / 59
C a n ad a
2
T h i s 3 3 y e a r o l d Minnesotan hopes to be in S a s k a t o o n , Saskatchewan in D e c e m b e r or January. I want to a t t e n d an e x h i b i t i o n of Ev e rg on 's ph o t o g r a p h y a t t h e Me n d e l A r t Ga l lery. My t r i p may s t a r t in W inn ep eg or Edm onton. My i t i n e r a r y i s n o t f i n a l i z e d as I am i n v e s t i g a t i n g d i f f e r e n t travel options ( a i r l i n e s and railroads). I wou l d l i k e t o m e e t C a n a d i a n me n w h i l e on my j o u r n e y as I want to e x p e r i ence a nearby, yet un fandliar c u l t u r e more f u l l y than I c o u l d e x p e r i e n c e i t s o l e l y on m own. I f you woul d l i k e to meet a 5 ' 8 " , 140 l b s . , g r e e n e y e d , b r o wn h a i r e d , m o u s t a c h e d man f r o m M i n n e s o t a , please w r i t e to m e . Me n f r o m o t h e r a r e a s i n t e r e s t e d in c o r r e s p o n d e n c e a r e we l c o me to w r i t e to me a l s o . I am i n t e r e s t e d i n film, books, arch iva l conser vati on , personal growth, c o l lecting postcards, walking, and h o u s i n g d e s i g n u t i l i z i n g p ro d u cts with low t o x i c i t y . T h o s e a r e a f e w o f my i n t e r e s t s , e n o u g h f o r an i n t r o d u c tion. Onward t o w a r d m o r e exciting adventures. I awai t your r e p l y ! Pa u l L o i d a P . O . Box 3 0 0 0 0 8 M i n n e a p o l i s , MN 5 5 4 0 3
"Wtitti
Hello, I am d r a wn t o a l i f e p r a c t i c e of m i n d f u l n e s s a f t e r the Budd hist vipassana tr a d itio n . I would l i k e to c o r r e s p o n d and me e t w i t h o t h e r s i n t h i s coun try who are e x p l o r i n g a c o n t e m p o r a r y a p p l i c a t i o n o f dh amma--mindful consumption, mind ful l i v e l i h o o d , mindful r e l a tionships, etc. I am a 4 2 y e a r o l d F i l i p i n o , 5 18 - 1 / 2 " , 155 l b s . I am l o o k i n g f o r what a f r i e n d c a l l s " t o u c h a b l e saints." Or l a n d o 7632 Har bour I s l e I n d i a n a p o l i s , IN 4 6 2 4 0
Two a r t - c r a f t s m e n living in the O zarks a r e looking for sales o u tlets in our n e a r m etropolitan area s. Our crafts are b e a u t i f u l , unique, i n t e r e s t i n g a n d wo u l d e n h a n c e the d e c o r o f any home, from c o u n t r y to c o n t e m p o r a r y . Wi t h t h e v a r i e t y o f c r a f t s we rr<ake, t h e r e would be s o m e t h i n g f o r everyone's taste. Our g r a p e vine wreaths measure from 8 inches to 25 i n c h e s , r o u n d o r heart-shaped with a r r a n g e m e n t s of d r i e d n a t i v e m a t e r i a l s , c o l l e c t e d from the B u ffa lo National R i v e r a r e a , a e s t h e t i c a l l y (and s e c u r e l y ) p l a c e d on t h e w r e a t h s . The s ame t y p e o f a r r a n g e m e n t s a r e p l a c e d on w e a t h e r e d b a r n - b o a r d s or r a r e , century old american chest nut shakes. We a l s o wo r k w i t h t h e Ozark m ou n t a i n q u a r t z crys tals, placing copper mi n g t r e e s on top the m u l t i c o l o r e d crystal c l u s te r s . Some o f o u r b a r n - b o a r d p l a q u e s a l s o have c r y s t a l c l u s t e r s as a b a s e f o r the d r i e d a r r a n g e m e n t s . All t h e s e c r a f t s can be s e c u r e l y p a c k a g e d and s h i p p e d t h r o u g h p a r c e l p o s t or UPS. W e'll gladly sell to i n d i v i d u a l s or ot w h o l e s a l e r a t e s to r e t a i l stores. I n q u i r i e s about t h e s e handmade c r a f t s can be s e n t to:
Dear RFD Brothers: We h a v e l i v e d h e r e in th e Colorado River valley 200 m i l e s w e s t o f D e n v e r f o r 15 years, l i v i n g l e a n and d e r i v i n g i n c o me f r o m b e e k e e p i n g and f e e d i n g o u r s e l v e s well from a s mal l o r c h a r d and b i g g a r d e n . The a i r is c l e a n , scenery spectacular, outdoor activi ties lim itless, and c o s t o f l i v i n g a s l ow a s y o u w a n t t o make it. Now a n e l d e r l y n e i g h b o r has d e c i d e d to s e l l h e r a d j a c e n t p l a c e a n d we t h o u g h t how p l e a s a n t it coul d be to h a v e some n e l l o w g a y / lesbian country neighbors. The p l a c e is 5 a c r e s w ith about 1 / 2 in o r g a n i c o r c h a r d , m o s t l y s we e t c h e r r i e s in p r i m e production, but with some a p ples, a p ric o ts, p ea rs, p e a c h e s and pl u m s. House is an o l d e r 2 b e d r o o m , u n s p e c t a c u l a r but a d e q u a t e with s e p a r a t e 2 c a r g a r a g e and 2 d e crepit storage sheds. She is a s k i n g $ 7 5 , 0 0 0 but is n e g o t i able. I f a n y o n e o u t t h e r e in R F D l a n d i s i n t e r e s t e d , we w o u l d be g l a d to p r o v i d e d e tailed information, color p h o t o s , and answer q u e s t i o n s about the a r e a .
S i n g l e male, s e e k i n g t h e c o m p a n i o n s h i p o f a n i c e man ( o r two). I am 5 ' 9 " 1 6 0 - - d o n ' t d rin k or sm o k e. L i k e to (serve). I cook--bake--clean-scrub--&. pol i sh--wash . Very w e l l e x p e r i e n c e d i n all p h a s e s of p l e a s i n g ( Him). I drive a tractor--operate a garden t i l l e r - - l i k e o u t s i d e wor k v e r y m uc h- -ke ep ing the yard n i c e - - a good s i z e g a r d e n , and l i k e f l o w e r s and c a r i n g f o r them. No s h o r t me n p l e a s e - - A . p l e a s e be a ( a d u l t ) . I ' v e met too many ( o d d o n e s ) . I t r y to be honest, c l e a n , and l i k e to be busy. B e i n g v e r y p a s s i v e when t he ti me c o me s , ai m to p l e a s e (Him). No d r u n k s . Ron P e a c o c k 1734 N . F . Hol se y P o r t l a n d , OR 9 7 2 3 2
C h e s t e r A Donald 5 3 1 1 - 3 0 9 Road P a r a c h u t e , CO 8 1 6 3 5
Dear
RFD’ e r s .
H ello again from b e a u t i f u l , sunny, high e ner gy Tucson! I am a w h o l i s t i c h e a l t h p r a c t i t i o n e r u t i l i z i n g many d i f f e r ent na t ur al h e a l i n g t e c h n i q u e s s u c h as t h e r a p e u t i c sensual m a s s a g e , a r o m a t h e r a p y , and nutrition. 1 l i v e in a v e r y positive, sp iritu a l, high e n e r g y , ne w a g e l i f e s t y l e . I am uncut, s l e n d e r , late 30's, h e a l t h y , e n j o y a good s e n s e of humor, hiking, mushrooms, w r i t i n g , t r a v e l , and t o u c h i n g . I am l o o k i n g f o r f r i e n d s a n d a p o s s i b l e r o o mma t e t o s h a r e my home in T u c s o n , and m aybe more. I f you a r e a s t r o n g , adventurous, loving, indepen d e n t , wo u l d l i k e to v i s i t or l i v e in A r i z o n a , p l e a s e w r i t e . En close photo. Wa r ml y , Ma r c c / o R F D / 59
A r n e A h l s t e d t , B u d d y May HCR- 6 4 , B ox 4 7 2 - B F l i p p i n , AR 7 2 6 3 4 n s L o c o m o b ile
e5
D e a r RFD, I am v e r y m u c h k e e n o n e x c h a n g i n g l e t t e r s , p h o t o s and so o n , and h a v i n g a f a i r l y d e e p and s i n c e r e friendship w i t h g a y men f r o m e v e n the furthest places this magazine can r e a c h . 1 wo u l d a p p r e c i a t e y o u r h e l p in g e t t i n g to know all t h e s e p e o p l e out there v e r y muc h. My name i s A n d r e , I'm 20, dark-haired, white s k i n n e d and have a g o r g e o u s t a n , 5 '5 " , 1 3 8 l b s . , eyes: h a z e l to b r o w n . / like l i s t e n i n g to j u s t a b o u t a n y s o r t of music (e x ce p t heavy metal rock), g o i n g to t h e b e a c h , r e a d i n g b o o k s , h a v i n g some fun, etc. I'm looking for penpals from anywhere out there for friend sh ip. Letters in E n g l i s h , p lea se. I 'l l r e p l y to a l l t h e l e t t e r s . So get s c r ib b l i n g t o : Andre C. P o s t a l 7 9 4 8 S a l v a d o r , Bahia 40000 Brasil
GWM, 3 5 , a n d B l a c k & W h i t e A u s t r a l i a n Shepar d, 8, s e e k i n g to a d o p t spunky, cuddly, Coyote 2 2 -2 8 . P r e f e r Coyote r e l o c a t i o n to C e n t r a l O r e g o n high d e s e r t, our 90 y e a r house, tiny oasis, population 30, beautiful trees, clean air-water, great to g a r d e n , quiet, birds, two c a t s i n t h e y a r d , c l o s e to w i l d & s c e n i c rivers with r a f t i n g - s w i m m i n g fishing, wilderness, Cascade mountain ra nge, 4 m iles from N atu re 's Conservancy p r e s e r v e . Hot s u m m e r s , c o l d w i n t e r s . 2,600 feet. Australian Shep a r d i s i n c h a r g e a n d y o u mu s t t a k e h i s o r d e r s and he l i k e s long slobbering licks and french kissing. Gray cat is 2 nd in c or r mand, whe n you want a l i t t l e pu ssy she l i k e s her t u mm y r u b b e d . I'm about 5'10", b r o wn hair/eyes/moustache. I t ' s i mportant but s e x I s n ' t t h e 01 t h i n g i n a r e l a t lo n sh ip for m e, I lik e friendship, p la y fu ln e ss , hon e sty , dancing also. For s e x I t h i n k the i m p o r t a n t t h i n g is v a r i e t y and a v o i d i n g a r o u tine. I t ' s e n e r g y to b e v e r y cautious with t h e s e d a y s . I like music e s p e c i a l l y Grat efu l Dead an d l i k e to e s c a p e f o r s hows when p o s s i b l e . I like my f r i e n d s s t r a i g h t & g a y . We s u r e would li k e to f i n d a special k i n d o f g u y wh o i s spunky, cuddly, intelligent, fun, sane, etc. to j o i n t h e team. I a c t u a l l y have a l e g i t "p r o f e s s i o n a l " j o b a n d c o mmu t e 35 m i l e s to t h e b i g c i t y ( p o p ulation 2 ,3 0 0 ). I'll call if you g i v e a n u m b e r . Photo is okay i f you wan t . Write:
l am a h e a l t h c o n s c i o u s ( f o o d and e x e r c i s e ) , in s h a p e ( 5 ' 9 1 / 2 " , 1 5 0 0 , 30 " w a i s t ) , 50 y e a r o l d , d o wn t o e a r t h h i s t o r y t e a c h e r who l o v e s r u r a l outdoor l i f e . I'm p r e s e n t ly l i v i n g i n a p a s s i v e s o l a r home that I c o n s t r u c t e d , s i t u a t e d on f i v e a c r e s on t h e 1 1 l i n o i s -W i s c o n s i n s t a t e line. P l a n t o b u i l d a s i m i l a r h o me in 1 9 9 2 f o r r e t i r e m e n t on 45 a c r e s in s o u t h - c e n t r a l T e n n e s see. The p r o p e r t y i s s e c l u d e d a n d wo o d e d w i t h Oak a n d S o u t h ern Pine with 900 f e e t f r o n t a g e on a n i c e r i v e r . Besides camping, h i k in g , c a n o ein g, I e n j o y many d i v e r s e a c t i v i t i e s s u c h as g o o d f i l m , mo d e l r a i l roading. I do no t c a r e f o r s moke , a l c o h o l or d r u g s . I am home o r i e n t e d an d l i k e a n i m a l s , p a r t i c u l a r l y my C h o c o lat e Labrador R e t r i e v e r . I am s e e k i n g someone y o u n g e r than myself (25-45), but open to o t h e r s ) wh o i s w i l l i n g a n d a b l e to r e l o c a t e to s h a r e t h e a b o v e as a c o m p a n i o n a n d / o r lover. Important a t t r i b u t e s w o u ld be h o n e s t y , loyalty, caring, the s e l f - e s t e e m to t a k e c a r e o f t h e i r b o d y a n d to s t i m u l a t e the mind. Wou l d b e h a p p y to e x p l o r e f u r t h e r t h e p o s s i b i l i t i e s w i t h a n y o n e who wo u l d c a r e to c o n t a c t me . Bill P . O . Box 1 0 3 G r e y s l a k e , IL 6 0 0 3 0 (414) 862-2221
WANTED = MEN
who are tired of wandering and want a place to settle down, who can enjoy a hard day’s work who want a pleasant companion to get it on with, who can enjoy solitude and companionship each in its own turn, who like to help others, who can enjoy living a simple life with good food and good, trustworthy friends, who know how to enjoy sex in all its diversity, who are willing to love, work and enjov the simple life, who are tired of anger and wish to live in peace, who are willing to invest their lives in making the world a better place to live in and make their own happiness while doing it, who have a respect for the Great Spirit and the Earth as Mother. The M onastery o f -the M
e a l
i n
s
S
p
i r i t .
is dedicated to these principles as a viable way of life. The
B r o t h e r h o o d
operates The Tor
School Gent 1e
Hands
and grows the medicinal herbs we use.
John Box 6 4 7 M a d r a s , OK 9 7 7 4 1
W e
are building.
For further information, write: Crazy Owl, Abbott T h e Monastery of the Mealing Spirit 2304 Flat Shoals Road Atlanta, Ga 30316
Sha l om: Young kibbutznik studying m u s i c composition and c o n d u c t ing in J e r u s a l e m would e n j o y corresponding (in E nglish, F r e n c h or Hebre w) wi th p e o p l e from all over. On my k i b b u t z ( c o l l e c t i v e f a r m ) , I work in a g r i c u l t u r e and wi t h c h i l d r e n . I'm i n t e r e s t e d in e t hn omu s i c ology, language, dance, ri tua l &. s p i r i t u a l i t y , gardening, h i k i n g and a d v e n t u r i n g in t he out-of-doors. I t a i Dewar P . O. Box 1 0 4 9 J eru sa lem 91009 ISRAEL
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Southeastern Arts, Media and Education Project, Inc. P.O .Box 54719 —
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Atlanta, Georgia 30308 (404)584-2104
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(m i n i-qu i11 s) Each an original ite* designed and sewn by Sr. Missionary DeLight for Barter, Trade or Sale (Skirts begin at $45: Coverlets $150 and up) Coverlet Styles: Victorian Fans, Sunburst Rainbow. Oeco Logs contact: Sr. Missionary DeLight Short Mt. Sanctuary Rt. i ,Box 84-A Liberty, TN 37095
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w o d e s i g n s - " R F D " ana one large pansy, black on lavender OR " R F D " and six (count them) Dansies in a multicolored design on white. 1 cotton. S . M. L_ , XL &. 3XL d ?1O each plus *2 postage &hanoling (1st class). Write: RFD , RO B o x € >8 „ | _ i be r t y , XN 3 7 0 9 5 .
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A S p i r i t u a l Network f o r Changing Man o f a l l a g e s , c u l t u r a s , and a e r u a l o r i e n t a t i o n s s t r i v i n g to c r e a t e e C e le b r a to r y and H ealin g Space f o r M ales through Mutual Support and Sh arin g - P la y and R i tu a l which i s n o n - s e x l s t , l l f e - a f f i m l n g , and E a r th -c e n te r e d . P u b lish e s B ro th e rso n a A J o u r n a l f o r B r o th e r s o f the E a r t h . S u b s crip tio n s T iss u e s a y e a r - *1 6 - S in g le Is s u e s - $57 5 5 7 F o r ao re In fo rm atio n on Network and P u b l ic a ti o n c o n t a c t E a rth k in a t abova a d d r e s s .. .Come B r o t h e r s .. .ConeI
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Mail all correspondence (advertising, subscriptions, business, submis sions, or letters) to RF D , P . O. Box 6 8 , I— 1 ber t v , T N 3 * 7 0 * 3 5 . Contributors and editors can be reached through this address also. We welcome advertising - especially from gav-owned enterprises. Please write for our add rate card. Sample copies of the most recent issue are KJ . 2 5 (post paid). Back issues are 3 - 50 if less than one year old. Back issuea older than one year are J P 2 . O O each, iwe are out of issues 8 l~d. 6-10, 2d, 30, 32, 36, dO, 50-54) Please add postage of ^ 1 . O O for five issues and for each additional five thereof
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RFD itself is not copyrighted. However, the each accredited contri bution (written material, photo, artwork) remains the property of those contributors, and nothing of theirs mav be re-published in any form without their permission. All non-credted material may be repub lished freely. Mention of the source would be appreciated. Due dates for submissions to recieve full consideration ate:
► MI N T E R SPR I M G
S U M M E R
1989/90 Issue #60 1990 Issue #61 1990 Issue #62
Oct ob er 15, 1989 J a n u a r y 15, 1*3*30 A p ril 15, 1*3*30
RFD is published quarterly and is delivered around the Solstice ana the Eguinox. Second class mail takes up to three to four weeks. If vou don’t recieve your copy within a month of the publishing date, please check with us. The number of vour last issue is on the mailing lable. Second class mail will not be forwarded, so you must let us know if you move. We print the names of all contributors, but not their addresses '(except for contact letters). Contributors can be reached through RFD. We do not give out the addresses of subscribers, however RFD will forward mail to them.
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W R I T T E N — Please share your knowledge and vision through RFD. This is a r e a d e r 1_» xr i t t e n journal, so it is your forum. If possible, send in your contribution typed and doublespaced. RFD prefers to wield the editorial pencil lightly, so please send vour submission to us as close to the the wav you would have them appear as possible. We do correct spelling and punctuation, unless vou note otherwise.
Artwork: We always need more graphics ana photos than we have 1 If vou are an artist or a photographer (vou don't have to be professional. - just talented) Send us a portfolio. RMOTOS — If you have a choice, black and whites reproduce better than color, however, if vou have a gem of a color photo, sena it to us anyway. If vou would like special treatment of vour work or \-j want it returned, please be specific. No negatives, please.
D R A W I N O S — It is hard for us to get a good Q u a l i t y repro duction fron color drawings and light pencil drawings. Light blue is invisible to the camera, however, red photographs black, (try using red colored pencil instead of graphite sometime 1 Again. 1 f vou request special handling, be specific.
We will report to you as soon as possible if vour submission is se1ec ted for publication, but we sometimes hold material over for future issues, and it mav be some time before actual publication, please bear with us. A self addressed, seif stamped envelope will insure m e re turn of vour originals. RFD WILL SEND CONTRIBUTORS ^ ONE COPY OF THE ISSUE IN WHICH Th EIR WORK APPEARS AS PAYMENT. Second copy upon request.
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