RFD Issue 78 Summer 1994 by RFD Magazine Gay

Summer's here! and while this issue o f RFD has been compiled a foretaste o f summer fun has been enjoyed, deliciously, as a swish o f faerie revelers tackled the rwists and rums o f North Short Mountain Rixul and descended the driveway fo r our annual Beltane bash. Before the gathering it was fo il steam ahead to get projects completed, the garden planted and the place ready fo r our Jfiends, aided by those who came earlier fo r our work week and some hot sunny days. Hot sunny days t hut fooled us into believing spring had turned to summer early. O f course. Using so close to the trees anil the changes o f the seasons, there is a lor o f looking into the clouds with a knowing eye, watching the birds migrate, (the bright red taningers and night singing whip-poor-wills had already arrived), and speculating around the weather, not all o f it accurate. For the week o f the gathering itself our early summer turned colder than we hiul experienced fo r a month on a couple o f nights. Those o f as more familiar with the incongruities o f the Tennessee weather nodded wisely and spoke o f this "Blackberry Winter", having seen the blackberry blossom the day before Max day when the skies fum ed gray. Those o f us less familiar with the urea hoped there were no more bashes to bloom bringing on another surprise late winter (having already hail "red bud winter” in March and later ”dogwood winter"). First rule o f any faerie gathering is ”don't judge a day by the weather", mother nature truly beautifol in all her guises. On the May eve fire last year's pole became flames, the dancing and drumming a pagan frenzy, last year's dreams and disappointments disappearing with the smoke, and the next day celebration o f the coming o f the sun, the fertility o f the coming year, was fo il o f color, spectacle, magic and fu n Around the may pole, cur that morning, bedecked with streams o f ribbons and old drag sacrificed fo r the event, we danced and weaved in and out, closer and closer to the center until all bound together around the pole. The May pole still stands on the knotl a symbol o f the unity o f spirits married at that moment. Whenever we gather it is a chance to reconnect with the larger community that we are part o f A creative, healing, intuitive, spiritual, caring tribe. One new member o f that tribe arrived unexpectedly on the last day o f the gathering. We named him "Pretty Boy" and he was a big hit with several revelers. O f course, it's our first new goat kid this spring, and a week later he has a play mate, Popcorn gave birth to another little billy. We were hoping fo r a little nanny among our offspring to increase our milk yields, but these little fellows will be around fo r the summer.

Our Twentieth Anniversary> Retro continues unabated and brings the magazine to its current residency at the mountain. Next issue we would like to do a special feature: i f you have a story to tell involving RFD over the last 20 years, especially i f you met and, maybe are still together with a friend or partner you have met through the contacts please write and tell us about it. Time fo r some hype: The Anniversary T-shirts are almost out and won't be re-printed so i f you want one o f these potential collectors items don't hesitate....tore bags are still available, too. This issue features your very?own faerie guide to * New York's Stonewall 25, as well as the photography o f Jan Lynch, more news from Ida, our neighboring community, a second Letter from China, an article entitled Stop Prison Rape, as well as our regular dose o f irregular fiction, quilting, poetry, culinary' skills and all . _ , Meanwhile xou may notice the absence o f our regular Spirituality column. We are looking for a new editor to take this on. lo read and select submissions around this subject, and to contribute your own writing. I f you are interested please write us. Manx Thanks to Tkin Leatherman who has been editing the column since Fall '92. Also here, a quick reminder that RFD is a reader written journal and alwaxs welcomes submissions o f articles, letters, artwork, issues fo r open discussion, fantasies, photos, etc. Communication is important, so let your voice free and your pen flow, fyyEnjoy the summer and celebrate Pride wherever you find yourself on the twenty-fifth anniversary’ of Stonewall h o r Love from us all....

Jan Lynch 1994

B etw een the Lines

Resurrect Fierce Disobedience ojolumo 0(0( aio.4 Qssuo 78 RFD is a reader-written journal for gay men which focuses on country living and encourages alternative life-styles. Articles often explore the building of a sense of community, radical faerie consciousness, caring for the environment, as well as sharing gay m en ’s experiences. Editorial responsibility is shared between the Department editors and the Managing E ditors. The business and general production is centered at Short Mt. Sanctuary in rural middle Tennessee. Features are often prepared in various places by different groups. RFD (ISSN # 0149-709X) is published quarterly for S18 per year by Short Mt. Collective, Rt 1, Box 84A, Liberty, TN 37095. Second class postage is paid at Liberty, TN and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to RFD, PO Box 68, Liberty, TN 37095. ISSN # 0149-709X USPS #073-010-00 Non-profit tax exem pt status under #23-7199134 as a function o f Gay Community Social Services Seattle, Washington.

Member: CLMP (Council of Literary Magazines & Presses) IGLA (Int’l Gay & Lesbian Assoc.) INDEXED by AltemaUve Press Index PO Box 33109 Baltimore. MD 21218

DEPARTMENT KITCHEN Q l’KEN Buddy May, CiA A NAR t'Al.KNDAR Moonhawk, GA POETRY Steven Riel, MA

EDITORS BOOK REVIEWS Garland Terry, OR B B B PEN PAL James Creagh, TN EICTION JanNathan Long, TN GARDENING Greengenes, TN

Outside Covers:

Jombi Womp Womp I n s id e F ro n t C o v e r: Scot D. Ryerson

Inside Back Jan Lynch

Cover:

A Subscription to RFD saves you money and really helps us. SUBSCRIBE TODAY!

contents A R T IC L E S A M ) ESSAYS Training Americans To Rape Living on the Body of the Mountain A Country Journal Entry Letter From China Our Day at the Parade Snow Henge And They Named Her IDA Stonewall 25 Faerie Guide Gentleman's Choice Back To Iowa

14 16 17 23 25 26 27 39 58 67

BOOK R EV IEW S

B R O TH E R S BEHIND BARS

CO N T A C T LETTER S

C U L IN A R Y Bakers Buns Kitchen Queen

19 18

Peter Baker Buddy May

FA IR IE A RC H IV ES

Goatboy

FEATURE Recalling Former Decades: RED Retrospective M

STV, A. Vera Gabby Haze, Tom Seidner

F IC T IO N Sex Talk With Vivian Going To Florida A Friend In Need

43 45 48

K. Thaddeus Paulson Daniel Raphael James Medley

Stephen Donaldson jannathan falling long Robin, Sylvan Yang Dejun Evan Lacon Tom Stama MaxZine Weinstein NY Faerie Circle Steven Berg John Nally

G A T H E R IN G S

LETTERS

LUNAR CA LEN DA R

Moonhawk

NEW S

Robin

PH O T O G R A PH Y 21 Shades of Gray The Photography of Jan Lynch

Jan Lynch, E-d White

PO E T R Y

contributors Antler Peter Baker Randy Brieger Buddy May Frank Burger Jesse Chambell S. Christopher Day Yang Dejun Jim IX'Witt Dan Doran Stephen Donaldson Sam Eaith Keith Gemerek Goatboy Hyperion Gabby Haze J.R. Kangas John Kozachenko Philip Watson Kuepper David Kwasigroh Evan I aeon Joe I -awrence Lembo jannathan falling long Jan Lynch James Medley Christopher Moes Moonhawk John Nalley NY Faerie Circle K. Thaddeus Paulson Robert Farl Penn,Jr. Gary Plouff Kenneth Pobo Stevie Postman Daniel Raphael Robin Tom Seidner Mark Skinner Tom Stama STV Sylvan Vaughn A. Vera MaxZine Weinstein lid White

10 21 56 18 55-57 64 3,50.63 23 55 62 14 57 42 64 60 34,35 56 25 55 14 25 61 16 1,43 48 57 21 67 39 43 57 45 57 9 45 6,17 36-38 47 26 28-31 17 60,61 31-33,50,55 27 51

28, 50 55-57 Correction to .177

R E M E M B E R IN G

KM) regret* that photograph* of Joe Bale*ten which appeared in #77 were from a private photo session and are not for sale ax are the others in the senes by Steven BaraU.

E I )ear Readers!

In response to James Willow haven's letter in t i l l it is vital to note that he spent over a month here |at Wolf C’reek| "in quiet meditation, in warm communion and in gentle harmony with nature" and then stormed out in anger when “the nxxxl changed." James' response toother people’s behavior is key here, more important than the behavior to which he was responding, lagging RFD's readership on to bash one another and to bash Wolf Creek and San Francisco fairies does not seem productive. I hope that a peaceful and loving dialogue will occur.

Mr. Willowhaven references an article reprinted from RFD# 12. an article written over sixteen years ago. Careful reading of the article reveals that the "cake and wine, tequila and dope" were discussed as part of “being in other space" and were introduced at a party, not during spirituality discussion, RED editorial production, heart circle, or even the Mayday ritual. The article did not criticize the party's menu, it only catalogued it. The article was about a burgeoning diplomacy between the San Francisco circle and the Wolf Creek/RFD staff circle which ultimately led to the collective purchase of Magdalene-Creekland Pwdlebrook by a group of faeries named NOMI NILS, many of whose members reside in San Francisco. NOMF.NIJS maintains the land as a gathering space, and the content and "nxxxl" of a particular gathering is defined by the gathering's organizers and participants. Would that 1 was there to speak about the airborne Jack Daniels bottle. Defined as a safe space, the Sanctuary d(x?s not countenance physical violence. In situations involving physical violence residents and gathering-goers are empowered to intervene to calm a situation and, if necessary, to insist that a fractious individual leave the land. Action consensed upon at the time something is a problem is clearer semiotically than dialogue in print two years later. Is it possible that the bottle was accidentally crowded from the balcony (2 years ago there was no railing) or thrown nowhere in particular as an imperious gesture of excess? Rather than leaving, it may have been better to stay at the gathering and create loving and peaceful energy strong enough to eclipse the offending mood. The balcony of Garden House is a grand place to hold court, a place to lounge and smoke cigarettes and feel superior to the peasants below, an imperial place to keep score of hand-holding and tent sharing in envy. It used to bother me, but I eventually appreciated the arena it provides for hyperbole. Now I bow and say “your majesty" when I pass it. In James' RFD article (also in till) he encourages closet homos to out themselves.

Is he trying to “out" Wolf ('reek or San Good Morning! F rancisco fairies, to force us to confess criminal activity? I don’t believe that is his Reading James Willowhaven's letter purpose in opening dialogue, and I would not in RFD's Spring issue, I felt that perhaps encourage people to tell stories specific to the another perspective might help us all achieve Sanctuary in support of substance use. more peace with the use of drugs, alcohol I encourage James Willowhaven to and sugar at faerie gatherings. Since I am not visit Wolf Creek and to join me in negotiating familiar with the events he describes, 1 have the semiotic minefield up*>n which 1 have no context from which to address the abusive tiptoed for a year. The dialogue includes language, or the throwing of bottles or any presentation and interpretation of gestures other specifics about the gatherings he and responses to gestures w-ith gestures describes. But it does seem to me that we whose meaning varies with the interpreter. should draw a more distinct line between What do people mean when they blow smoke people's behavior while using drugs, and in my face? When people offer me sweets drug use in general. are they looking at my figure with envy or I respect James Willowhaven's de mockingly because they think I'm fat? What not to smoke pot, drink alcohol, eat sugar, inhibitions are they trying to usurp? Don't etc. Nobody suggests that he should, they realize that I'm already unfettered? whether at a faerie gathering or elsewhere. There’s nothing in my mind preventing me By the same token however, we must also from spreading my legs or saying what I respect the right of other people to make these mean. The items discussed resemble the decisions for themselves. If someone treats substance in Beverly Cleary’s books called me poorly, the issue is rudeness. I do not “ever-so-much-and-more-so." They amplify blame the joint that they have just smoked. things, (in my experience) inefficiently; using We should recognize that we are all them chronically (over time) is like using an responsible for our own actions. Plenty of open refrigerator to cool a room. Caveat people can use drugs and alcohol, even in emptor. 1 don’t complain much when they great quantities, and maintain self-control. amplify intellect (my primary fetish), wit, a Yes, for some people, there IS no such thing loving attitude, a person's recognition of their as a little bit of pot, just one drink or just one own physical beauty, or an interest in me. trip. Yes, some people HAVE lost sight of IXi we each have a laundry list of appetites? their own limits, but I cannot decide for Calling a gathering with no stimulants others where their limits should be. Each of would miss the point. The people I have us must learn this for ourselves, and we found annoying “dosed" are nearly as should all respect the personal limits that annoying sober. Ken Kesey talked of the others have established. Hence, I do not Merry Pranksters going “beyond acid,” and offer pot to my lover, or ask my friends who this is to me their central theme. do not drink to have a glass of wine. They Transcendence beats suppression. Get high have already made it clear that they are not on my armpits (I was very stimulated by interested. In return, they do not ask me to Goatboy’s last week.) Intoxicate me with abstain. your skin. When I’m with Evox I don't miss Yes, substance abuse is a dangerous coffee. phenomenon in the queer community, but we I owe my Volkswagen and my cannot assume that because some people wardrobe of silk dresses (Maison Salvage) enjoy drinking, smoking dope, etc., that this to a personal economy which scoffs at constitutes abuse. We all have different buying things I can get free. standards of abuse. Absolutes are dangerous Creating a society in the wild often things, threatening the freedom of us all. presents semiotic minefields. As we live new Mind-altering substances are part of ways, if they really work for us, the nearly every culture all over the planet. If mainstream society will pay attention and they are not for you, that's fine, but please treat us as a model for behavior, as they don't try to make that decision for others. If already do for fashion tips. we are uncomfortable with other people using these substances in our presence, we must Affectionately, instead look inward for the solution. Our gatherings should be sacred, healing places Garnet for all. If I do not understand the healing that Wolf Creek, Oregon others need, I must also realize that they may not understand the healing that I need. Wouldn't we all be better served by leaving the judgments behind? Chris Barefoot Charlottesville, Virginia

Dear Faeries everywhere: The James M. Willowhaven letter about San Francisco faeries and substances caught my eye and made my heart jump. For two years I lived in a mobile home just outside the gate of our Wolf Creek property. I saw the place grow from a large empty farm to its present state. When Steve O'Neill installed all kinds of special technical stuff, to add to what Mica Kindman and others had First laid out, and when our fabulous Oskrr began his metamorphosis of Teresa from a cold bare cabin to the fancy shrine it became, with the help of Todd and others, there began to be a completely new look to the place. During the time of that progression, we lost First Assunta, then Steve O'Neill, and at last I moved and Oskrr died, right on the land he loved among the faeries he loved. Meanwhile a number of others had moved in. some had also moved out, there were comings and goings. What was constant in all this? There was love. There was also a lot of merrymaking, and there were some wild parties. There were some guests who got drunk and stayed drunk. We avoided drug problems by a very close call once or twice. During part of that time, the local officials were conducting a "war on drugs" using helicopters and who knows what else. We survived, they found nothing illegal. Well, you may ask, isn't that perfection? Okay, I'm at home in San Francisco, but, like possibly a few other faeries, I don't go to Wolf Creek, I don't go to San Francisco faerie circles, and it saddens me to say that the reason is that I do not feel any positive community spirit at either. There are various bonding rituals in which I will not take part. One is smoking. Another is drinking. And a third is putting up with really unsanitary conditions around both food and kissing. It may be oldfashioned of me, but I value my health. At age 72 it is one of the few things I enjoy at very little cost. In my thirties I did a lot of kissing and other stuff with my mouth, and lost most of my gums. In my sixties I got into drinking a lot of sweetened coffee and lost a few teeth. Nobody told me these things might happen, but they did. And now I do not see Fit to go to a lot of trouble to camp out, in order to put myself in situations where I neither feel comfortable nor safe. Wolf creek has tried to make the place available to people with AIDS. It has not done much to make the place safe for people in good health. A few faeries bring their own food and beverages. By living next door, I managed to do the same. Yet there were a number of times when rituals and practices — though always voluntary -- by my own decisions excluded me. 'The way around that, I found, was to exclude myself from faerie happenings. I greatly enjoy and value the company of many faeries at other times and places. I have taken part in ever so many discussions of how Wolf Creek should be arranged to accommodate all needs and desires. It does seem to be accommodating the needs of some. Just not me. The list of departures is matched by

the list of new arrivals. In that way. Wolf Creek will probably, now that it is built and the debt is paid off, continue a long time. 1 value the experience of being there, about half the time, from 1990 to 1992. 1 had hoped to keep going that way indefinitely. A crisis with my landlord combined with my owm sad realization that it was not right for me. and I left. I do not recall making any farewell speech or evaluation until now. You may see that I am of tw o conflicting opinions about faeries and Wolf Creek. There was a dream we had, perhaps not practical, but we had it. Of a faerie space where bliss could reign and all could share. In fairness 1 do not know of any collective or other group effort that has ever been able to produce that dream. But there is always the possibility that the dream may come true, somewhere, some day. Will it be in Wolf Creek? Or will it be in another location, yet to be found, with other faeries yet to materialize? Or may it be just that, a dream to dream? There are many problems in the world we cannot solve, but this one is ours. We can solve it. We need to solve it.

I just bought my First issue of RFD (Spring ’94) and I’m blown away. It's just what I've been looking for. I read with interest the debate on "assimilation vs. confrontation." One of the strengths of any culture is its ability to retain its stories. I think of our Native American brothers and sisters who know their past and its culture only through its mythology. I think of the beautiful return to Goddess worship and its many different forms of the pagan religion. Imagine the loss to those of us who feel tied to the earth if the stories of the Goddess had been completely wiped out! And then I think of the Christian faith, foundering as it is in the minds of many. The stories and symbolic meanings behind its rituals are almost forgotten. And only those who truly participate "in remembrance" of Jesus feel the creative power all religions are supposed to provide. All groups of people build around themselves a history and a culture, a framework of symbolism that describes and explains the basic truths all members of the group experience. This framework is passed on to new members of the group through our stories and our mythologies. We pass these stories on in many ways, not the least of which is the way we live our lives. The passage of Queer Culture through our stories and symbols is even more important Our brothers and sisters often pass through their lives never knowing just how rich their history is, or even that they are tied to a history outside that of their genealogies. We remember Stonewall as the

beginning of the fight for gay equality. But do we remember that it was First and foremost a bottle for our most basic right, that of gathering and celebrating and, yes. loving ourselves by loving each other? Do we remember that Stonewall was not about pride at all but rather about dignity? And if we forget just w hat significance pink triangles have, what use are they as a symbol? The issue of assimilation is the same thing. Those who call for less radical behavior forget the most important thing in life: expression of our stories, our symbols, our meaning. Certainly there is more to wearing a dress than just shocking Dan Rather or Pat Robertson. 'There is meaning there that we should all be celebrating, simply because it is an expression of what it means to be gay. This is more important than any "cause." Those who publicly celebrate their flamboyance should be revered as our betters, for having the guts to do publicly what every queer person does in their soul when they come out. They are proclaiming that we are not bound by the rules of masculinity and femininity which the straight world has imposed. They are proclaiming that our lives mean something more than simply "being a man" or ’’being a woman." They are proclaiming many other truths of what it means to be queer, many other stories and symbols that we can Find by celebrating with them. Our stories and symbols are too important to be abandoned just so we can Fit in. Our meanings are too vital to who we are to trade them in for respectability from those who have vowed to never respect us. Those who think they have no need for our queer myth will continue to be embarrassed by flamboyance. But those of us w'ho understand will join in the dance. We’ll revel in a continuation of that need expressed through resistance twenty-five years ago at Stonewall: the need to celebrate and love and embrace our dignity on our own terms. Your new reader, Robert Stemmier Ballwin, Missouri Editor; I regularly send letters-to-the-editor to newspapers around the country on gay issues. Many, however, will not print a letter from a person who lives outside their circulation area unless the letter is responding to something published in their newspa|>er. I would like to have people in all parts of the country send me any gay related articles or letters that appear in their local paper. That would enable me to get a "foot in the door” in those newspapers to promote education and understanding of gay issues. Several people in other parts of the country already send me clippings of anti-gay letters that appear in their newspaper for me to respond to, since they are unable to have their name in print attached to a pro-gay letter in their local newspaper. It works out very well.I would even like to hear from those

(Continued on page 10)

CONSCIOUS NEWS MONEY CAN BUY IT, BABY Transvestism is now being recognized by one of the leading banks in Scotland, the Royal Bank of Scotland. According to a short item in the Chicago Sun Times on February 25 of this year, the Scottish bank has begun issuing 2 separate high-security check guarantee cards to its cross dressing clients, one with the client dressed as a woman and the other with the client dressed as a man. A spokesman for the bank said, "If any cross-dressing customers are confident enough to go shopping dressed as a woman, it's possible for them to have a second card, so that they can avoid embarrassment or difficulties when paying by check. It's at their local bank manager’s discretion and subject to the usual safeguards.” The spokesman could not say how many of the cards had been issued. What about those of us who recognize a very broad spectrum of genders beyond the traditional two? Could a person have 5 or 6 different cards?

MIRACLE HEALING POWERS OF NEW TV REVEALED Please remain seated and make no effort to have any control of your own life. Remain transfixed before your video screen. Everything you need to be happy and healthy and alive is being taken care of for you by benevolent forces in far away places. The new "bio" TV has been introduced by Samsung Electronics of Korea, and will be hitting the US. market at a cost slightly higher than conventional televisions this year. This particular arm of Big Brother claims that its new technology benefits human beings by improving the blood circulation and boosting the immune systems of those idling before its screen. In experiments which seem to validate the nightmare visions of all those freaky sciencefiction films from the 50's and 60's, tests carried out at Seoul National University, Colorado State University, and the University of California prove the odd potency of these new television sets. Onions were observed to grow twice as fast, chrysanthemums bloomed 1.5 times as long, and roses and carnations remained ffesh 1.4 times as long sitting in front of the "bio" TV as they did sitting in front of a normal TV. Dogs and cats were rendered more docile by the new sets. You can become a Stepford Wife without having to give up your own life! Imagine the exciting possibilities of a life spent lobotomized without going through all that messy surgery. Run, don’t walk to your nearest electronics dealer.

BIG BROTHER IN THE NEW AGE MAGGIE THATCHER TO ADDRESS ADORING CROWDS! If your new BioTelevision hasn't taken care of your emotional and physical well being well enough, you may now drag your ass over to the computer screen and put on the highly spiritual new interactive computer program called Digital Love. Supposedly based on ancient oriental spiritual techniques, this program includes: a demonstration of yoga postures that can be done while sitting in front of the computer (don't EVER leave the computer screen for even a minute!); a color therapy sequence based on the Chakra interpretation of the human energy system with colorful, pulsating patterns and "calming" music (don't go look outside at any real colors and the natural pulse of the earth!); on-screen reproductions of mandalas with exhortations to chant sacred mantras. You may then return to your television set and turn on the 24 hour shopping channel feeling relieved of the stress of your las engagement with the TV. It’s all being worked out for you and your total happiness.

If you are going to be in London this autumn, a massive festival in the spirit of free energy anarchism is being planned for October 21 through 30. Anarchy in the U.K.! or Ten Days That Shook The World, will b e , according to the organizers, "the biggest ever anarchist festival", involving "all currents of anarchist thought, practice, culture, history, and lifestyle." They also promise "anarchist film and video, anarchist bands day and night, comedy, poetry, raves, dancing and the best ten days of social life you're ever going to experience". For more information, including the provisional program, send 2.50 to Anarchy In The U.K. '94 PO BOX 96 Bristol BS99 1BW U.K.

NUCLEAR POWER TASTES GOOD TOO The Power Reactor and Nuclear Fuel Development Corporation of Japan has begun encouraging children to drink soda laced with plutonium. Understandably, the Japanese public has a deep suspicion of anything having to do with nuclear energy, and the ruling-industnal complex is resorting to terrifying tactics to push through its breeder reactor program of power generation in Japan, which must import almost all of its energy needs in order to remain an industrial giant. They have created a new video with Mr. Pluto as its main character who congratulates children for drinking plutonium-laced drinks. Plutonium is a highly radioactive poison in humans because it is absorbed by the bone marrow . The inhalation of even one-ten-thousandth of a gram can induce lung cancer. Look for the American corporate leaders to rise to this new challenge from the Japanese economy by developing its own version of Mr. Pluto who encourages children to drink toxic runoff, saving their corporations billions in environmental protection costs. What's good for business is good for the country!

.SAVE THE RAIN FOREST! SAVE THE BONBONS!

II \

In case the need for oxygen on the planet isn't enough reason to make an effort to save the tropical rain forests, here's another reason to contemplate: with the destruction of the Amazon basin, wild types of the cocoa plant are rapidly disappearing and going extinct. The genes contained in the wild plants may well be necessary for ongoing crossfertilization of the domestic varieties to keep them free of disease. Chocolate may become a thing of the past Boycott all corporations and governments to keep this from happening.

/ \ 7/

* --------- - T " If you are interested in boycotting more selectively, the recent Council on Economic Priorities list of the worst environmental offenders is available and includes these names: General Electric, DuPont, Exxon, Commonwealth Edison, International Paper, Louisiana Pacific, MAXXAM, Rockwell, Texaco, and Texas Utilities.

NIXON DEAD, BUT LEADERS STILL MAKING IT PERFECTLY CLEAR

Governmental clarity has been restored by the advent of the new' Democratic administration in Washington. In response to a reporter's query as to whether there had been a "clear statement of (the administration's) policy on settlements in the occupied territories”, the State Department's deputy spokeswoman, Christine Shelly, said the following, as quoted in the March 14 Washington Post: "Well, I think our position on settlements is, is well known. It certainly comes up from time to time in the context of, you know, testimony and other things. We do--the briefers--also, from time to time, get those questions as well. As to—you know, nothing has changed on that in terms of our position and, you know, I think it’s— you know, I can refer you to. you know, to probably previous statements by officials on that." But I don't have anything-you know, I mean, you know, o u r-I think-I don't have-you know. I-w e-u su ally we try to have, you know, a little bit of something on that. I’m not sure that it's going to be, you know, specifically what you're looking for. You know, generally speaking, our position on the settlements is that it's the Palestinians and Israelis have agreed that the f\nal status negotiations will cover these issues and, you know, that's—that's also our view."

, v r < ) GATHERING GANOW1 1 camp-out for gay m e« l i e Ene i" * f e" S V « t W a l W 'S )( F

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neart>vbe|ins J j J ^ ^ n g o Ustmg.

D ILL DOUGH ON T H E RISE I he annual Primal Knead/Lam mas tide Gathering at Amber Fox Sanctuary is being ^ 2"nd IO August lst- A midsummer celebration in rural splendor and faerie ul0USness’ comPlete with outdoor baked homemade dickie rolls! For mformation contact the Canadian Faeries or 7 6 6 'PaVld 613/231-6914 or Jules 613/237-

DESTINY LODGE FAERY SANCTUARY GATHERINGS The lodge in, Vermont will play host for "Walt Whitman's 175th Birthday" gathering May 26th-3 lst, and the Strawberry Feste ' Post Stonewall-25" gathering June 28th thaiugh July 5th. Contact them for details.

MIDSUMMER'S NIGHT DREAM DANCE A mini-gathering the night of the July full moon Friday, the 22nd: the night of madness. View the play by Shakespeare; dance around the Fire and the Christmas rose to insure its blooming in winter; enjoy an evening of relaxed madness; bring a tlute, tin whistle or drum and a bag for your clothes if you want. On a private 12 acre retreat just outside the beltway in Maryland. Sponsored by the local Washington gay gardening, nudist and cultural clubs. For details, Write: Lambda Soleil, PO Box 9635, Washington. DC 20016. B R IT ISH CO LU M BIA RADICAL I A E R IE S The BC Radical Faeries will be hosting our second country gathering on the same 35 acres as last years, near Chrisatina Lake, B.C. (two hours north of Spokane WA) on the weekend of July 21 to 25, 1994. There should be a lot fewer mosquitoes participating in the gathering at that time. All faeries are welcome on the land for the previous and following days to create and live in sacred space (i.e. prep, clean-up and R&R). For directions to the site send us a note with your return address to Box 215, Christina Lake, L3C, Canada VOH 1EO, or call Tiger Lily at 604/447-9414. Other events in the area, the following weekend (July 30August 1) is the 14th annual Fruit Float down the Slocan River for info on that call 604/354-GAYS. KAYAKING I would like to put out the message that any water babies planning to Kayak the Salish Sea (inside waters of Vancouver Island) are welcome to contact me about how and where to do such if they are unsure, local conditions, etc. Our open "regatta" is on Shark Spit, Marina Island, weekend of the August Full Moon.

W A SH IN G TO N W ICC A N S The Church of Wicca, the Order of the Golden Fairies— Sons and Daughters of the New Moon Call 627-5417 for information about the meeting second and fourth Fridays of the month at the Magical Garden, 2407 6th Ave, Tacoma, WA 8:00 PM. This is an open meeting of gay, lesbian, bisexual and their friends. Awaken the spirit of ritual, unleash your true pagan spirituality. Please join us for a spiritually uplifting evening fellowship, guided meditations, psychic healing. W H O LE EARTH SPIRITU A LITY SUM M ER CAM P.

K A W A SIIA W A Y SANCTUARY Summer Gathering

Sponsored by the Whole Earth Community, NY Faeries, F’eace Drummers and Full of NY & NJ, camping, workshops, swimming, boating, Earth Magick, folk music, crafts. July 8th thru 10th, by Lake Tiorati, NY. $40, meals $2-$3. Contact for registration form The Whole Earth, 142 Washington St, Binghamton, NY 13901, or call (607) 723 9867.

Join your faerie tribe for 10 days of ritual, play, heart circles, communal sharing, growth, and transformation; a time to celebrate our collective spirit and flesh; a time to continue our discovery of who we are from Friday August 5 through Sunday August 14.

M ID W EST M EN 'S FESTIV A L Since 1981, a regional gathering where men of varying cultural and ethnic backgrounds, sexual orientations, and spiritual beliefs gather to share in building community and individual growth. This years festival runs from July 19 to 24. Contact: Stein 816/9316521 or Clarity 816/931 -1266 for more information.

The gatherers reached consensus to welcome women (womyn, wimmin) and minors for the entire gathering; a chemically-free environment will be encouraged. They also reached consensus to take personal responsibility for maintaining a respectful and safe gathering environment in the absence of rules and/or prohibitions. Kawashaway Sanctuary is a 17 acre parcel of rustic woodland—20 miles from the nearest village— nestled in the Superior National Forest. Contact Willow for info under the Kawashaway listing.

J a tn jC o d * *

Atlanta Faerie C ircle 404/(22-4112

EASTERN LEATHER FAERIES Seeking eastern leather faeries who would be interested in creating a Black Leather Wings type gathering on the East Coast sometime in Summer 1994. Contact Stuart Norman. 1616 Walnut St.. Greensboro. NC 27405.

New Hampshire)Verm ont (southern) Austin Area fa e r ie s C'asa tie Estahan. 12514-b Esplanade St. Austin. TX 78727 512/837-15% Faene Fone-event and message tape 512/370-4708

Ron 603/478-54.37 NAC Faerie C ircle POB 1251 Canal St Sta NY NY 10013 Gay Switchboard 212/777-1800

Black Leather W ings PO Box 210556 San Francisco CA 94121

N o m en u s POB 312 Wolf Creek OR 97497 503/8662678 415/626-3369 (San Francisco)

*Y,W. UV.HO Blue Heron Farm Rt 1 Box 1244 Dekalb NY 13630

same as tele-taene number

Blue Ridge F airie C ircle PO Box 17512. Asheville. NC 28816

MIDWEST MEN’S CENTER

704/287 0833

A Carnal Camaval will he celebrated by

British C olum bia Radical Faeries 923 E. 10th Ave.. Vancouver BC CANADA V5T 2B3 604/874-7470

Midwest Men's Center o f Chicago. Labor Day weekend September 2nd through 5th, 1994 It will be a festive, laid back, clothing optional weekend in the woods, offering workshops and playshops on "Safe. Safer Sex and Safety First." The gathering will be held in SW Michigan near Benton Harbor. Tenting and indoor cabin space available. Volunteers and workshop leaders welcome. Contact Earl 312/348-3254 before July 15, if you would like to lead a workshop or playshop. Contact Midwest Men's Center for an invitation.

N ortheastern F aeries (including Blue Heron Farm) POB 1251 Canal St Sta NY NY 10013

Northwestern Faeries 1510 19th Ave Seattle W A 98122

Oklahoma Radical Faeries c/o RAW/ARZ 626 S. Chautauqua #2 Norman. OK 73069 405/366-7743

Michael or Lar C entral New Aork Radical Faeries 142 Washington Street. Binghamton. NY 13901 (607)723 9867 C h icago F aerie C ircle 2524 N. Lincoln Ave., #461 Chicago IL 60614 312/561-8909

O ntario Faeries/ Fees du Quebec Amber Fox Sanctuary Box 65 McDonald's Comers Ontario CANADA K0G 1M0 613/278-2744

Pantheos

PO Box 9543, Santa Fe. NM 87504

“ Fes dish" Computer Bulletin Board 415/861-4221 Faerie Bear Share Joe & Mike Totten-Reid 1712 Calle Poniente Santa Barbara CA 93101 805/569-1615

505/982-6827 Philadelphia Faeries c/o Earth 2221 Spring Garden St #3R Philadelphia PA 19130 215/864-9922

F ro n tiers Socials, discussions and outdoor events

Portland OR Fey Dirt -New s and Information Line in area 503/235-0826

for Gay and Bi men 14 W. Mifflin St Suite 103 Madison WI 53703 608/251-7424

Rheinland Faeries/G erm anv Geert 0228/443218

G anow ungo S an ctu ary. \ \ . N.Y. Jav Stratton 121 Union St. Westfield NY 14787

Rural Gay Men's Group support network for Canadian countrymen PO Box 1404 Port Hardy B.C. CANADA VON 2P0

Gay Organic G ardeners John Starnes 1684 Willow St Denver CO 80220

Sacred Faeries 165 Regent St Salt Lake City

UT 8 4 111

801/531-6846

GAY 4-G ay Consciousness and S p ir itu a lity Heidelberg Faene Circle Blucherstrasse I W-6900 Heidelberg Gennanv 49/6221-860535 Holy Faery Database (networking tool for faeries) c/o Harry Ugol/ Michael Dreyer 1434 Alemany Blvd S.F. CA 94112 415/469-0625 H ouse o f the Dawn 112 W. Way POB 637 Yamell AZ 85362

AUSTIN FAERIES Regular C ircles meet the 3rd Tuesday of the month 7:00pm. 227 Congress Ave. at the Grassroots Peace Building at the southeast com er o f 3rd and Congress Ave.

602/427-3112 Kawashaway Sanctuary 3612 Chicago Ave So Minneapolis MN 55407 612/823-6996 E-maii address: molde008@gold.tc.umn.edu Kory don PO Box 653

Louisiana not-so-Radical Faeries plan a gathering for mid-October, '94. With promised use■of land, buildings, and facility facilities at a location a planning committee k near Alexandria, ‘ committee is forming to prepare and host the event. A group of La. faeries who call themselves L’Affaire have set October 14th16th for a week-end of self-exploration, consciousness raising, faerie spirituality, and fun. Send inform ationSASE to L’Affaire listing for mnn»

Phoenix AZ 85001

San F rancisco Tel-a-Fatry 415/626-3369 Events and message tape for the Bay Area faenes Santa C ruz Fairy Line 408/335-5861 Events and message tape for the Santa Cruz area Seattle Fairy Phone 206/783-2011 event tape for Seattle area Short M ountain Sanctuary Route 1 Box 84-A Liberty TN 37095 615/563-4397 (messages)

Southern C a liforn ia

Star Circle- Faene Dish Rag Los Angeles CA 90026

V erm ont- Destiny Lodge PO Box 88 Northfield VT 05663 802/485-6668

E 'A ffa ire The Beau Monde POB 3036 Pineville LA 71361 Men Nurturing Men ,.7 M„iu,.st Men s Center POB -5 ? '

POB 26807

West G erm an Faeries Gereckin Oetkm •Wchovener St. 57

who are willing to send letters to newspapers. I can supply photocopies of other excellently-worded letters that have appeared in other parts of the country. Since the same issues keep coming up time and again, this is ready-made ammunition to fire back with. My address is: William Stosine, Route 6, Iowa City, Iowa 52240. C lippings should be identified as to newspaper and date, and sent to me as soon as possible. Sincerely, William Stosine Iowa City, Iowa

thank you so much for running my ad. All my life I thought I would never find true love. Now 1 have and it hurts cause I am here. Nevertheless thank all you at RFD. Sincerely and respectfully, Chuckie Roche, Jr. Michigan City, Indiana IN SEARCH OF... Je rry Chelland of San Diego where are you? You wrote me in RFD winter of '92. I lost your address! Spirit brother please write John Loren zen, 2371 4A Camino Capitan, Sante Fe, NM 87505.

Dear New f riends at RI D, I was so delighted to find your magazine. The down-to-earth style makes me feel welcome. Like a long lost brother. I found your issues number 76 on the last day of my visit to New Orleans and Mardi Gras. It must have been fate because it was on my last day and I was only wasting time till I had to go to the airport. In a little shop I found the last copy they had. My big complaint is that 1 hadn't heard of your magazine before. Congratulations for your 20 years. I hope I can get to know you for the next 20. Although I don't live in the country but rather in the most densely populated county in Florida, I do feel a strong kinship to mother earth. I have relatives who own farms or live in rural locations, and I own a house that I daily garden around. Besides lovely flowers I have oranges, tomatoes and herbs. A goldfish pond and 2 dogs for wildlife under 3 trees I planted, a taberaria, a camphor and a golden rain tree. I like to go camping often and could stop your way on my way to Lothlorien in Indiana. Here 1 work part-time on a paper of progressive politics called "The Tampa Bay Peace Paper." I will forward for your information a few copies. I hope you enjoy it. Not only do I want to start a subscription but I promise that I will be a contributor.

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS Blue Collar Queers! Working class and poor gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgendered and transsexual people! What is "Gay Community" and how do you fit in? An anthology is accepting submissions that explores the relationship between class background and queemess. Using life experience work, poetry, short stories, theoretical essays and cultural commentary; this anthology will challenge the sometimes narrow definition of gay and lesbian community by asserting voices whose experience of class combined with race, gender, age and ethnicity does not always mirror the expected image.

Steven Wells: last known address 6 1 1-D Lemonasky Rd., Tonasket, WA 98855. Contact: David Schuler, PO Box 1776, Guerneville, CA 95441,707/869-1884.

Write for guidelines to:

E dgar M artin, where are you? Hoping to find you and renew our friendship. Please call me this summer at 415/710-8984. or at 707/869-3837.

Susan Raffo Anthology PO Box 8939 Minneapolis, MN 55408

Sam uel Ix*bon (River) has lived in Boulder, Santa Fe, now possibly in San Francisco. Denny Geiger 518 Errett Circle, Santa Cruz, CA 95060.

Deadline is October 1st.

The cards are b e a u tifu lly printed as varnished d u o to n es by PhelpsS chaefer L ith o g rap h ies on prem ium grade stock, and com e as close as possible to r e p r e s e n t i n g the original p h o to g rap h s. They are blank inside and are suitable for all occasions or as collectors' ite m s . If unavailable in your area, they may be ordered directly fro m : S te v e n B a ra tz P h o to g r a p h y , 2660 T h ir d S t., 4205, San F ra n c is c o , CA 9 4 107. Sales reps and w h o lesale in q u iries are w elcom e. In d iv id u a ls may send SASE for a b ro c h u re /o rd e r form , or fu rth er in fo rm atio n .

David 1.. Chestnut Madeira Beach. Florida Dear RFD, Hello, I'm writing to ask about your next issue of RFD. The last issue I received was issue 476. Please don't take me off your mailing list. I'm on death row and I find your magazine very beautiful and interesting. On that last issue on page 20, the lunar calendar was only gtxxl until March. I love those calendars. Then page 40 was jam packed with all those sexy shaved cocks. What a treat for us freaky girls like myself. Please don't take me off your mailing list, you can't imagine how boring life is on death row, and without RFD I will die for sure! Please keep them coming. If I received money I would gladly pay bet just cause I don't receive pay since I'm not allowed a prison job being on death row is no reason to cut me off... Any and all understanding would be greatly appreciated. Because of your magazine I found a man I fell in love with. I

thi8 and that,

Q u a lity

P h o to

N ote

C a rd s

Steven Baratz (featured in R F I) 4 7 7) has published a new line o f greetin g cards of B&W photographs of male nudes and "nude landscapes." These 20 images cross the lines of fine art and erotica, and cover a wide range of subjects and se n sib ility . They m aintain an honesty and sim plicity about the beauty of m en's bodies w ith o u t b ein g sp e cific ally sexual.

SUGGESTIONS AND GUIDELINES TO RESPONDING TO PEN PAL ADDS. The purpose of the pen pal listing is to offer the community at-large the opportunity to relieve the pain and loneliness that most inmates endure. RFD assumes no responsibility for clams made in these Brothers Behind Bars listings, and we urge all respondents to exercise caution, especially with any financial dealings. Inmates can submit their ‘ads' as short as possible to RFD, PO Box 68, Liberty, TN 37095. The coordinator reserves the right to edit ads according to his judgment.

FSP

LAZARUS ALEMANY 086101 S-1-S-13 Desperately seeking a friend. Good-looking S 27 5'8 165 bk br tan skin, romantic type, passionate, deep understanding, open minded and out spoken, race/religion/sex no problem, seeking f a serious miixfed only, will answer all. lets try build an eternal friendship

Notes: Inmates are listed in Zip Code order within the same Zip Code. All inmates are supposed to be gay unless specified otherwise. Bi=bisexual, W=white, B=black, NA=native American, A=Asian, H=hispanic, PR=Puerto Rican / age in years/ height/ weight in pounds/ color of hair/ color of eyes: ab=auburn, bd=blond, bk=black, br=brown, bu=blue, gn=green, hz=hazel, rd=red, gy=gray, drbr=dark brown.

MICHAEL PAUL LaMADLINE 038696 V -2-S-16 W 40 5'8 150 br bu average build, looking f a someone around the same age for a long term relationship, need to reestablish myself and would like to find someone who is sincere, fun. loving and can be a friend too. will answer all who are sincere (SASE) DONALD HONEST, someone and more

NOTICE: For the sake of saving printed space, inmates’ addresses are given ONCE per facility.

1600 WALTERS MILL RD SOMERSET PA 15510 JEFFR EY WALKER BJ5553 W 5'11 180 br bl Mel Gibson look alike .doing time for a crime I didn't commit, have no one to express myself, and inner feelings to know the difference between feeling and just thinking, I live by a code of loyalty, looking for one to share my code of loyalty and share my feelings and desires with in correspondence, friendship and possibly relationship, will answer all.

GSP HC01 REIDSVILLE 30499-0001

DONNALD MANNING Ef-137603 B 30 5'10 188 athletic build and handsome, intelligent and affectionate, seeking a strong friendship possibly a monogamous relationship, race and age is unimportant, will answer all who write. A RTHUR SC O TT 7328 L-1 # 14/1 B 33 5'11 190b very well built, slightly bow legged, dark complexion, seeking correspondence with anyone in hopes of creating an on going dialogue that will enhance each individual's lives style, it's often said that good friends and good news are almost alike, they both come too far and in between, write soon

DAW SON 693285 SIN C ER E seeks that special 35+ for friendship, correspondence ? photo appreciated

SAMUEL DUNFEE 075517 V-1-S-1 W 147 5'7 bd bu I enjoy sports, martial arts, music, cooking, reading, writing, I'm honest, fun loving, open-minded, no head games, seeking sincere, honest and open-minded people that would like to be friends etc..

POB 637 NEW YORK NY 10113-F637 MIKE HUDSON W Pisces, body builder, artist, writer, will enjoy conventional letters from bikers with interesting inner aspirations, photo gets mine

POB 747 STARKE FL 32091

LEON ROSE EF-264721 E-3 W 34 6'4 185 br bu I don't have anyone on the outside. I love to run and I do workout. I would love to find me a man to write to anywhere aged from 40-60yo., and I would love a picture. Please no games. TOMMY TUCKER EH-159018 E-3 W 44 br br 5'11 198 At this time I don't have anyone on the outside and I just lost my lover of nineteen years. I'd like to find someone to write and you can be anywhere from 40-60yo.. Please no games. I would like a picture. I like to run and I workout.

UCI POB 221 32083

PINA FIDEL 093005 L-3-N-8 Spanish, speak both Spanish and English, feel very lonely, gay f a 20 years, I wish to find the same kind of friends, will answer all.

► t

RAILFORD FL

RICKY ANGLIN C-107085 I-30 23 5'8 170 medium build, Italian male, incarcerated and looking f a friends or whatever, very masculine^ interested in poetry, sharing thoughts and possibly fantasies, will answer all who write. RICHARD W IER A-082615 D-21 30 0104 29 6' 180 half Italian-Sicilian half Indian-Apache I’m real lonely and could definitely use some pen pals. STEVE RAY BUNCH 709856 BLD 64-111-2 K-2 W attractive, young, muse build, well hung, golden tan, seeks financially secure, supportive, submissive gays, TVs, Ts, she-he males, bottoms, young a old. black or white for warm caring enjoyable fun, friendship and poss much more, looks, weight, height all unimportant, if your lonely at night or day you can always write lonely me, rem. a pic is worth a 1000 w ad s, will answer all, hope to be free soon

TIM O TH Y W AYNE HAMPTON 063704-S-2-N-2 W 35 5'1 1 220 br bu seeks carespondence with women a men, age a weight unimportant, no games, sincere, like sports, pets, good sense of humor PATRICK LONE 107217U -1-S-13 DO W N AND DESPERATE B 25 5*10 185 Looking f a friendship with sincere individual. I like sports, music, waking-out, and communicating, seeking older nature-male a female, all letters get a reply WILLY MARSHALL 056855 V-1-N-5 37 150 6‘3 associated, attractive, a a n g e canplected, educated intelligent, caring, honaing, involved in many activities, will reply to all.

PATRICK M cMANAMON 570671 24 Irish 6 210 ex dancer seeking out correspondence for friendships and possible long term relationship, will answer all photos are a plus and will get photo m'return CARL E MELTON 083710 V-2-S-3 3 3 (5 -1 5 -6 0 )1 8 5 5 '9 l/2 br br dark complexion I have a boyish or should I say youthful features I’m sensitive, caring, compassionate, and a fun loving person, who considers himself to be honest I'm lonely and need an outlet to maintain my sanity I have many interests me weight lifting and some body building Anyone interested is welcome to write

KSP POB 128 42038-0128

EDDYVILLE

JOE H EISER 109619 W 22 6' 165 dk/har hz smooth, dean and in great health, seeking sincere others for correspondence, friendships and possibly more, will answer all

GARY NEELEY

93012 W 32 br-curly bu 6'2 195 Cut and well endowed I like to read and heavy into sports especially baseball, basketball football and those that take place behind closed doors I like to meet people but I'm shy till I get to know them I will answer all letters and a photo gets a photo.

MCI POB 740 43140

LONDON

OHIO

MICHAEL BYRD 103667 D-2BU14 Seeking some peace , not pity. Very talented but very confined artist. W 35 6' br bu muscular build, HIV-, would like to correspond with you, not into head or heart games, I know what it's like, age or looks unimportant, the heart holds the real beauty

M ICHAEL TAYLOR 121040 6*1 1/2 210 Iroquois Indian/French Canadian, br bu many interests and open minded, will answer all ALLEN WILLIAMS 503588 S-1-N-4 Bi W 25 bk bu 5‘5 155 seeking same for friendship and more will answer all, age/looks not important

MCI POB 692 MADISON FL

32341

A RTHUR SA UCIER 774217 W 31 br hz med build versatile, healthy, seeking honesty, realness, true friends and possibly future relationship, can relocate upon release, had enough of loneliness and games, be real please, I am

MCI 1150 S.W. ALLAPATTAH RD #213 INDIANTOWN FL 34956 DAVID COLEMAN 703694 I am seeking some sincere pen pals as I have plenty of free time to write It is a very lonely world in here and I have no family to write and the few people I thought were friends were far from that I am hoping that I will be able to make some true friends and that they are as sincere about writing as I am

POB 636 WEST LIBERTY KY 41472 NATHAN W M A R K SBERRY 4AU14/108310 Very handsome Libra Bi W 28 seeking that "Special Someone" Can you make up my mind ?, serious inquires only FRANK SHELTON 78398 2-10-u7 B Soon to be released I wish to hear from anyone that cares about people Sincere, caring affectionate, sensitive, also experienced top and bottom Enjoy outdoors, cooking and animals

LCI POB 56 LEBANON OH 45036 TE R R Y JOHNSON 22 6' 175 br br One interesting gay man looking for love, friendship, and a caring partner Please write if interested

LEONARD L TE R R Y 251528 B seeking a long lasting friendship with someone of compatibility Enjoys reading, cooking, handball and gymnastics My educational endeavors are sociology, psychology, and political science I am a people person that enjoys art and culture. I have no prejudicial barriers

POB 1368 44901

MANSFIELD

HOW ARD HODSON A 143-510 Young and seeking pen pal nice body, tall, slender, lean with a good proportion endowment, eager, good natured, clean, neat, polite and mild mannered, please write, I need a sincere friend.

POB 5500 CHILLICOTHE 45601-0990

M IK E F E S T 297 057 W 22 la m looking for pen pals to write to . I love to write and get mail. I am active in church but will write to anyone. I am a caring person and like helping people, meeting new people also. I will write to male or female. RON SPALDING 275 030 B 36 155 I love to write and enjoy music among various fun activities but I am presently incarcerated. I would very much like to correspond with someone who understands the strength of sharing love between youth and maturity.

IR POB 30 PENDLETON IN 46064 M ICHAEL E ANDERSON 850960 13/4A W 30 br br I am seeking a one on one relationship that is based on trust, respect and loyalty Ain't into games. I want love and nothing else JAM ES HARGETT 860543 2-2A W 28 5'10 160 br hz honest, caring and looking for someone without any head games, will answer all responses and your photo gets mine RAY G STEW ARD 863707 48-4J 39 5 7 120 br bu I like to travel, watch auto racing, camping, horseback riding and other interests, I am looking for someone to write to VIC TO R YAKAS 860471 8-5C 34 5'9 175 br bu looking for a friend to write, en p y reading, music, camping and traveling. Will answer all whom are sincere.

IDC IYC 727 MOON ROAD PLAINFIELD IN 46168-9400 K ENNY POW ER S 875583 W 24 bd bu 5'10 160 la m an honest, caring and sincere person who is in search of love and happiness I am looking for someone 30-60yo I hope to build the friendship into a loving relationship I don't play mind games and don't care for anyone that does. I will respond to all letters

ISP POB 41 46360-0041

MICHIGAN

JAM ES H ERIKSEN 860138 B 121 W 35 (12-20-58) 5’10 135 br medium build, lonely, seeking long term relationship No head games, lies or hassles Seeking sincere person 35-80 for sincere lifetime commitment C O R Y LEE HORN 883541 B-C-H 531 W 21 5’11 175 br hz Dominant, nice looking, nice body. I will be getting out soon and I’m looking for a serious relationship Absolutely no games, any age or race, please reply CHARLES ROBERTS 892721 B-C-H-221 36 5’10 bd bu handsome, intelligent, sincere and a very passionate lover I am seeking a gay man for a monogamous relationship He must be sincere, caring and interested in something meaningful Only family I have is my mother. I have no ties here and would like to make new friends and hopefully find that special someone to share my life with. CARL LEE W IGGINTO N 900262 B C H -123 5 '1 1 187 br br interests include swimming, music .dancing, basketball, I love passionate love making and I love pets, I also like boating, horseback riding and candle light dinners, I'm wanting a serious relationship with guys 28-65 yrs old, all letters answered, send photo please, your photo gets mine.

WCC POB 473 46391-0473

WESTVILLE

BILLY D CATES 864126 C-1 W 31 5'10 164 GDLKG HIV- BLO/BLU Seeking uninhibited grungepunks who m2: leather, rubber, shaving, tattoos, toys, safe raunch, anal, tit and testical stretching and bizarre butthole fun! I'm real open minded and bright. Tops and bottoms welcome. Lets trade pix and share some good times in life. Released 1995

IDOC MCC POB 557 WESTVILLE IN 46391-0557 MICHAEL A H EGW O OD 856108 38 5'11 205solid educated and very active in prisoners and human rights. I am of African descent. I'm interested in corresponding with a caring person. I'd prefer to correspond with a female, but I'm willing to correspond with anyone that's got the time.

WUCI POB 1111 47838

CARLISLE

EDDIE C A RPENTER D/205/L W 43 6'0 170 br br no tats, 7"x4.5", circumcised, little body hair, mustache, Fr.a/p, Gr alp, HIV-, jo, versatile, enjoy kissing and intimate cuddling, released ‘94 through appeal, 19 yrs served, no living relatives, profession- printing, painting, bricklaying, carpentry and laboring, don't smoke or do drugs, love country/west and rock music, quite, serious minded, intelligent, loyal and a good cook and housekeeper, only serious people need to reply, no head games

ROGER SONNY ZICKERFOO SE 9679 G -212L LEFT WING W 39 6'3 215 Ig/br beard bu tattoos-lots, weight lifting, hope to be out in about 3 years. I‘d bke to establish a lasting friendship and more with an understanding, honest, drug free male, you be bottom .me top. I’m in great shape, you will not be wasting your time if your gabbing your pen now.

BMC 310 WADAGA RD RT 1 POB 555 BARAGA Ml 49908 SHAW N RUSSELL 152174 38 in for caring a concealed weapon, 1-5 I'm seeking all correspondence but mainly form the outside world and no Michigan people please (personal reasons)

TMSU 2501 STATE FARM TUCKER AR 72618

JOHN E LORINO CAMPBELL 78482 I am a single white male that has no family and is very lonely. I would like to meet sincerely interested pen pals I hope to hear from you

LCC BOX 260 73051

LEXINGTON OK

L E S T E R S CLARK 206192 W 38 6'2 220 br bu Looking for fun and someone with a warm and sharing heart. Looking for someone to share thoughts and dreams with. Some one to talk to. Please write

RT 2 BOX TX 76597

4400 GATESVILLE

DARRYL BELLS 611583 B 28 5'10 150 emotional, handsome, quite, seeking support from all types or females, feminine males, transsexuals, transvestites, etc., any age or race.

POB 32-25-04 TEXAS 77348

HUNTSVILLE

RONNALD S HAFFELR 636938 W 52 5'10 180 salt and pepper hair bu/gy, well educated, easy going, in excellent physical health, HIV-, non smoker/drinker/drugs, enjoy good music, sing Prof., with a men's chorale, dancing, theater, travel, solitude, great snuggling, would like to correspond with others with like interests, will answer all serious inquiries, I have time on my hands to develop correspondence/relationships with others.

PNM NORTH POB FE 87504-1059

1059

SANTA

GINO A MASERATTI 40781 33 188 long-ab bu 100% Italian-born in Milan Italy, but was raised in Sydney Australia, body building, 7 1/2 cut, very lonely and mellow, non violent guy, total Libra, drug and disease free, rock musician, college graduate, zero family support, I love the mountains, will answer all, so please write me.

POB

100 JEAN

NV 89019

TIMOTHY A WARD W 24 5'11 160 sandy/bd br slim, smooth, very affectionate, looking for same, not into con jobs or head games, will respond to all who write.

POB 5002 CALIPATRIA 92233-5002

SEAN ADAMS D-81396 26 White lonely man, seeks that special person to help deal with my loneliness here

PETE ALVARADO E -33531 Mexican 35 Cancer 5'7 165 br-tong br , crystal freak. 7"-9". seeking a btsexual or gay male to write me. wtH be out probably next year in San Diego, please send photo-no Polaroid's, I like to play the woman part most of the time so I’d prefer a raunchy type cowboy, city guy would also do JAM ES L MARTIN J-108324 B-2-217 39 6'2 5 br bu Leo, I love art, reading, outdoor sports and travel, I'm currently unattached I'm down and lonely and I would greatly appreciate hearing from someone, will answer all letters R OBERT NORTON C -80856 A-2-249L A K A BIG BOB I've been gay for 10 years because of all the bad relationships with scandalous women They seem to have a talent for using men, so f a the last 10 years I've been a happy camper with my male friends who seem to appreciate a good relationship I must say though since I've been down my friends don't know me and I’m pretty hurt o v a it and very lonely But I'm depending on you to be my new friend 1Will answer all mail. KEVIN TYLER C -70238 suite D 2-146 5'1 1 155 bd bu seeks letters and friendships from the 'real world’, into poetry, mind expandation, writing and receiving hard core kink letters, anything goes, please write

POB 8101 CA 93409

SAN LUIS OBISPO

DENNIS N ACKERMAN H-40081 W 44 Capricorn br hz 5'6 135 hobbies.hiking, camping, jogging, nature .dancing, poetry, seeking to correspond with down to earth people, I'm down till '96.

CCISP POB 1902 -B TEHACHAPI CA 93581 MICHAEL BRIAN McMURTRY H-06849 1C #2 0 8 -u p 21 5'9 170 br-long hz/gn/br mustache, tattoos, interests include-reading, poetry, hand gliding, stars, planets: Egyptology, Bermuda triangle, walks, peace and tranquillity, I’m a non-smoka, very social, city boy and enjoy animals.

MCSP POB 95640

409000

IONE

CHARLES L C H RISTM AN E-10962 B-8-249L 50 30 months before I parole in PA state, background in horticulture, I would like to start writing to someone to share my experiences. JEFFR EY TAYLOR H-35645 A3-202 39 6'1 200 thinning dark hair, Libra, full mustache, I’m into most sports especially racquet ball and weight lifting, my music tastes range from Bach to rock, I consider my self to be sensitive and artistic, strong spiritual foundation, looking for a possible long term relationship, if you can assist me a if you need more information write me.

CMF POB 2000 95696-2000

VACAVILLE

LE ROY ARRINGTON H46053 I3-336 A handsome dark-skinned fun loving court jester trapped in a evil king's castle Needs knight in shining armor(Dragon slaying not necessary, horse optional). No walls to scale, just two fences help

WPTF 5 CHUGACH ALASKA 99611

AVE

KENAI

SH ANE PAYTON 20 5'9 158 dkbr bu seeks meaningful friendship and correspondence, athletic, karate e x p a t, into hot sex, lets share, will an s w a all.

CSP POB 4000 95696-4000

VACAVILLE

LEMUEL CA H VIS H -19143 3/138-U PR B 29 br br 5'10 light brown complexion I enjoy music, playing the a g a n and piano, gospel music, fresh water fish, wata-skiing, camping and swimming, good food .and love to cook I'm looking f a someone who enjoys much the same I’m a Queen and am looking f a someone who doesn't mind being with one and a carespondmg with one I am a very lonely p a s o n and hope to find a friend outside these walls

OSO 2605 STATE STREET SALEM OR 97310-0505 JA M ES BUZALAS 680B951 W 27 5’7 155 br bu/gr attractive and vasalile, seeks a chance f a that new start with the right man, staring from scratch, this explosive package is willing to relocate, s in cae replies only CLINTON J C ROCKER 7563052 W 22 5‘11 190-not fat dbr dbr I’m into body building and dancing, old cars and I can be very romantic I am very lonely and need a friend I will respond to anyone so please write DICKY DRENTH 6618868 W 20 bd gn 5’9 135 seeks financially secure gentleman f a friendship, affectionate replies and rock hard relationship upon release in 9 months I'm h a with anticipation to give it to me write ARON HARRISON 7961033 W young 5'6 160 lonely into body building, health beaches, cars, people, music, looking for friends to write lettas, soon to be released, needing someone to help pass my last year &1/2 JE FF S IM PSO N 6997403 18 hz bd smooth lonely muscled youngster, seeking mature o ld a gentleman for pen friend and relationship upon my release in 8 1/2 months, for immediate hot response write me

B i ptbers B e hind B ars B ulliten B o ard-

100% RIP OFF The following is a excap t from a prisona in R ailfad FI. ".I sent a check to a gay pen pal service in Memphis. The check was sent for MAGAZINES AND PEN PAL LISTING. It was a 100% hp off add. Please stop this from happening to any other lonely gays that think they will receive a listing or magazine. This is the address- REV. JO H N PR O W E TT 15 17C U O R T ST., SUITE # 4 M EM PH IS TN. 38104 L L G P The League f a Lesbian & Gay Prisoners has recently formed in Cleveland and will c o v a Ohio. The organization originating in Seattle WA is a network of people both in and out of prison who are concerned about the special problems of incarcerated lesbians and gays T h a e goal is to bridge some of the alienation which prisons create in our community Our long range goals include carespondence circles, a new sletta to facilitate communication between prisoners and nonprisonas, reentry programs etc F a m a e infam ation write-LLGP POB 620045 C LEVELA N D OH 44102-9045 NAMBLA North A m aican Man/Boy Love Association Bulletins are available free to persons imprisoned f a sex with m in a s Contact Rock Thacher. Suite 120 Box 263, 4730 E Indian School Rd ,Phoenix AZ 85018. "Helping you to understand and cope with your sexuality ”

sexually assaulted behind bars every year. This compares with a 1992 BJS estimate, based not on police reports but on a more reliable (if still under reporting) annual door-to-door victimization survey, of 135.000 female rapes a year. Once victimized, a prisoner is marked out as a continual target for sexual exploitation and is repeatedly subjected to gangrapes or else under duress trade sexual use by one or a few men in exchange for protection from the remainder. Thus the ongoing repetition of unwanted sex is very high: we estimate that 60,000 prisoners are subjected to involuntary sex every day. Very few of these rapes (only 3.2% of the ones Davis uncovered in his investigation) are ever reported to the administrators, much less prosecuted.

Today our prisons and jails have over 1.4 million people crowded into them. The courts are jammed with cases from within those walls. Many are crying “cruel and unusual punishment" . The inside of the institution is a micro-mimic of the outside world, except that there is much more intensity. Being a queer behind bars is not as easy as on the streets. Many different labels are attached to you from your first day onwards And they follow you the rest of your life in any prison or jail and in any state. There are two labels (bootie bandito, punk) which make any prisoners life a living hell. The “bootie bandito" or “child abuser" brings out a certain venom of animalistic family protection from the inmate populace. This type is the most hated and the most misunderstood. The punk or “turn out" is used like a ball amongst the power plays within the walls. l or the past 15 or so years 1 have put emphasis on bringing to your attention the plight of these two victims. Currently as Secretary of Stop Prisoner Rape 1 am much involved with educating both public and institutions about prisoner rape. Stephen Donaldson, who is President of SPR has contributed many articles to RFD. He most recently did a column for the NY Times. I have opted that draft and am presenting it here. Also, many prisoners have written asking to return to the old format of letters, poems, art in the BBB column. 1 think that a good idea what do you think? Let us know, -len, Brothers Behind Bars editor___________________

W ho (lets R aped? Incarcerated male victims of sexual assault are usually the youngest, the smallest, the nonviolent, the first-timers, and those with relatively minor charges. If a prisoner is middle-class, not streetwise, not gang-affiliated, not part of the racial or ethnic group which dominates prisoner life in his institution, lacks fighting expertise, or is held in a big-city jail, he is more likely to be a target. A large majority of the victims are heterosexuals, who are forced into the passive sexual role, though the small number of known homosexuals are, according to Wooden-Parker, three times as likely to be raped. (The assailants are almost always heterosexual in identity and preference; the widely used term “homosexual rape" is extremely misleading.) The more of these victim characteristics that apply, the more likely the prisoner will be targeted. Rape among female prisoners is by all accounts relatively infrequent, though females are far more protective of each other. The R esults The catastrophic experience of sexual violence, an unimaginably devastating loss to the typical straight male victim, is further exacerbated by the confined environment, which reinforces the sense of having lost control, even of ones own body and usually extends beyond a single incident, often becoming a daily demolition of personhood. It tends to transform those who remain psychologically untreated and do not kill themselves into capsules of pent-up rage which produces a dramatically heightened potential for violence once they return to the community. Many of them will become rapists themselves, seeking to “regain their manhood" through the same violent means by which they have been led to believe it to have been “lost." Others look for revenge on society, which sponsors the institution in which their sense of self has been cataclysmicly demolished and they might have been violently infected with HIV. Numerous studies have shown that sexual abusers are very likely to have themselves been victims of sexual abuse. Even an attempted sexual attack which has been warded off, a typical experience for a “fresh fish," can cause severe trauma and enormous increases in stress, defensiveness, and violent reactions, as well as being one of the most common sources of death and injury behind bars. In this way our penal and detention institutions unwittingly inaugurate a truly vicious cycle, turning non-violent detainees and minor offenders into much more serious dangers to the community... which is exactly the opposite of what our “correctional" institutions are supposed to do.

TRAINING AMERICANS TO RAPE THE ROLE OF OUR JAILS, PRISONS AND REFORMATORIES by Stephen Donaldson, Robert Dumond, Fay Knopp, and Louise Thompson The valiant effort to combat the horrible scourge of rape in our communities is doomed to failure, and will remain an exercise in futility, for as long as it continues to ignore our vast national network of training schools for rapists: America’s jails, prisons, and reform schools. Society and rape-prevention activists have turned a blind eye to these institutions, now holding over 1.2 million males and in the course of a year, witnessing over 9 million local jail “admissions", (pop. figures from BJS). Here, rape is a standard tradition rather than an unusual practice, considered by prisoners a legitimate way to “prove your manhood” and satisfy sexual and power needs. Most of these men and boys are returned to our communities with such attitudes, many of them having become rapists while there. The actual number of incarcerated males subjected to sexual assault is unknown, but rough estimates can be derived from extrapolating previous surveys to the exploding national prisoner population. It s'hould be noted that all researchers examining this issue believe that studies constantly underestimate the frequency of prisoner rape, so such extrapolations must be considered conservative estimates. Seeing no reason to suggest any subsequent diminution in the assault rate, we can apply the findings of the only carefully researched surveys of a jail system (by Philadelphia. D.A. Alan J. l>avis, 1968) and of a medium-security prison (by Wooden and Parker, 1982) to estimate that nationally 370,000 males are

Why N othing Has Been Done While this pattern of abuse has been documented in America since at least 1826, shortly after the first penitentiaries were built, when Louis Dwight protested to the governor of Massachusetts that “nature and humanity cry aloud for redemption from this dreadful degradation," and its widespread existence has been privately conceded by virtually everyone familiar with the conditions in confinement, until now little has been done to stop it. Prisoner victims are ignored in official rape statistics and unofficial estimates. A major reason is that rape of any male has long been a taboo subject for public discussion, surrounded by popular myths involving issues of manhood, vulnerability, humiliation, and homophobia which have obscured reality and prevented examination of the subject, in no small part by scaring virtually all victims away from ever acknowledging what was done to them, much less asking for counseling help.

victimizers in turn, this time in our streets? Not until the public, the ultimate jailer, turns its averted eyes back to those walls, which were built and are maintained at great expense by taxpayers to promote the public safety, not to facilitate rape and to promote the notion that rape is a way “to prove your manhood." Not until the institutions take realistic steps to counter this horror and really help its victims -- efforts which the public, the courts, and elected officials must demand. Not until effective proactive and preemptive measures and sympathetic responses to victims become criteria by which the professionalism of the staff will be judged, and all staff members are trained realistically to deal with prisoner rape. Not until new prisoners are given practical advice on how to avoid rape rather than a pious recitation of unrealistic and often (due to violent retaliation meted out to “snitches”) very dangerous suggestions to turn informer after the fact. Not until survivors are given better options than suicide, more violence, or more harshly punitive confinement conditions under the guise of “protective custody.” Not until prisoners, with the quiet support of administrators, organize themselves and ultimately take responsibility for ending this horror within their midst.

Traditional concepts of rape as well as now outdated concepts advanced by some feminist writers that rape is a "woman's issue” and men always the oppressive enemy, never the fellow victim, have obscured the reality that the crime of violence known as rape can be inflicted on men as well as women. Such views, now largely abandoned by rape counselors and clinicians, still influence the actions, and even more the public rhetoric, of too many rape activists, who in pamphlets, public statements, and articles still refer to victims only as women, using only female pronouns, ironically tacitly supporting the sexist myth of macho invulnerability. The men's movement has also remained silent and generally unaware of the problem. Even the men (mostly therapists and survivors) who have recently built a national “male survivor’s movement” to promote treatment for adult surv ivors of boyhood sexual abuse, and of all people who should know better, have generally ignored men raped as adults, and especially prisoners. Presumably in their eyes it is now okay to admit boyhood vulnerability, but the liability of adult men to violent penetration is still a taboo subject. This general silence on the vast extent of sexual victimization of adult males blocks the development of programs to acknowledge and help treat these survivors, and thus promotes the vicious cycle which produces further assaults on women and men. It is an irrational and self defeating taboo. Efforts to deal with rape in confinement meet additional obstacles. In the words of Vermont Correctional Commissioner John F. Gorczyk. “society reacts with a combination of fear, disgust, and denial." Common views of those who see incarceration as a solution for undesirable behavior are “don't tell me. I don't want to know” and “they get what they deserve.” Some see the threat of jail house rape as a violent deterrent to crime. Yet none of these attitudes will withstand public scrutiny. While there are some concerned “correctional professionals” who would like to deal with the problem, most usually prefer to simply ignore the systemic nature of the problem, considering it a public relations embarrassment, rather than realistically acknowledge and deal with what has literally become a life-and-death issue in the age of AIDS.

The vicious cycle, moreover, which exacts its eventual brutal . toil from the women and men who are raped in our communities will not abate until: (1) trained independent rape counselors are made available to all rape victims while they are still in custody: and (2) community rape crisis centers make determined efforts to reach out to the hundreds of thousands of former prisoners living among us who have survived rape physically, but not yet survived it emotionally. None of this will happen unless we first break the silence around sexual violence in our institutions of confinement. After 167 years of heartbreaking abuse, and decades of courageous effort by the feminist rape survivor movement to bring the undiscussable topic of sexual abuse to public light, the time has finally come when we are ready to bravely face the awful truth so long denied. The silent screams will finally be heard.

First Steps Towards Change The public and media however, are at last becoming more sensitive to questions of sexual abuse and more willing to break through old taboos surrounding the candid discussion of issues of sex and violence. The courts are reluctantly waking up and unevenly prodding wardens and sheriffs to protect their charges against what has become, with HIV widespread among prisoners, a death-dealing injury. The legal profession must now accept responsibility for responding to the cries for help from raped prisoners. Glades Prison in Florida has already adopted a staff-wide training program on prisoner rape, the first of its kind, in compliance with a federal court order from Judge James C. Paine, who found in 1990 in LaMarca v. Turner that "Rape is one of the most degrading events, short of death, that can occur in prison.” The Supreme Court on October 4, 1993 accepted a case. Farmer v. Brendan, which seeks to define more broadly when officials can be held responsible for failing to act to prevent rape in their institutions. The small national organization Stop Prisoner Rape is seeking cases suitable for class action suits and the National Prison Project of the ACLU has indicated its interest in pursuing promising cases. The first fruit of the new approach is the Prisoner Rape Education Project, a pioneering team effort by prison rape survivors and professionals. This is the first work to provide practical information and advice: to prisoners on avoidance and survival using two audio tapes, and to institutional professional via an issueoriented manual with a strong forward by Commissioner Gorczyk. One tape is available free to prisoner victims who send requests to “SPR d o ABC, 156 Rivington St.. New York. NY 10002.”

INMATE CALLS FOR SUBMISSIONS TO BEEF UP THE BROTHERS BEHIND BARS SECTION It is my objective as Len Richardson's assistant to the BBB section of RFD to facilitate self empowerment, understanding, support, advice and most importantly, to build a bridge between those incarcerated queers, like myself, and the "free" queer readership of this section. Therefore, it will be absolutely necessary for all prisoners to send their ideas, share their thoughts, poems, artwork, fiction and non-fiction works so we, together, can start achieving some of the goals I have mentioned. For those incarcerated queers OUTSIDE New York State, you may contact me directly: Maurice J. Mathie. Box 7(X). Wallkill. NY 12589-0700. You do not need my I.D. number so whatever joint you're in now. will have no idea you are writing to another prison. Those of you incarcerated INSIDE New York, send your letters, materials, etc. to: Iren Richardson c/o BBB. P.O. Box 98, Wolf Creek. Oregon 97497

What Needs To Be Done When will this outrage - a crime for w'hich no legislature and no judge has declared a penalty, which is not supposed to penalize the presumed innocent for not making bail before trial, and most tragically should not affect juveniles detained for non-criminal “status offenses” —finally meet with determined efforts to curb it and to intervene with counseling and care before its victims become

L i v i n g on t he b o dy of t he m o u n t a i n I go back to the kitchen, make tamale pies with leftovers and cook beans on the wood stove as the bread bakes. There is rice and tears. Then Hal makes pizza dough and together we make vegan pecan and apple pies. When all is ready, and I have rung second bell, only Christine. Sara. Catherine. Linda (all visitors), and I are there. So we circle, a rare moment here of Women's energy, plus me. Then slowly others enter, we recircle and then eat. After dinner. I stay with the goats. Dr. Walker doesn't come until eight thirty and begins to pump Sensei with meds (vitamin B, anti toxins. anti-histamines, bloat medicine, and eventually, anti-pain medication). He says it's unlikely she'll live. There’s almost a dozen of us gathered around Sensei and the vet, holding flashlights, ready to make errands of warm water, rags, whatever. While we stick a tube down her throat to her back stomach where the gas has built up, someone in the next stall yells out "Psyche's dead." Suddenly everyone is gone, a bon tire has started on the knoll, and Stv, Robin and 1 are putting Psyche on the cart as the vet gives Sensei more shots. Just as suddenly, everyone is back again. When the vet leaves, 1 get a taper to burn at the burial log and we take Psyche down. About eight of us gather around the two goat bodies. Stv says how he remembered first learning to milk on Paranoid; "I don't understand death." I sing the song I wrote for Psyche, about her brief breeding with a nasty ram named Viking, and the fate of her offspring:

5.20.93 While I sleep, Stev. today's milker, discovered that Paranoid is ill. He collected folks, and they witnessed her death. When I awake and go down stairs I see Sara, who gives me the news. I recall that two weeks before I had had a dream that she had died. She had been here longer than anyone else; she was the Grande Dame of the herd. I had known her two years, had even written a song for her, which I sang when 1 milked her; Is my daughter out to get me? Do they milk me just cause they hate me? Is there a plot against me? Or am I just Paranoid? ...Eight days a week, I'm Paranoid Eight days a week, is not enough to show I'm scared...

Psyche says Short Mountain is my home Psyche says I want to be left alone Psyche says my mother's Paranoid. We both must be daughters of Freud

Sara and I walk together to her grave, the old fallen Chestnut log that has opened like a vault, an open casket, and has received all our dead animals. On the way Sara talks about skinning Paranoid and using the hide. I become silently angry. We pass Stev. Sylvan and Robin, carrying the cart back through the woods. There at the log, I see Paranoid's eternal goatness. the long funny Saanen ears, pink and white. I see her neat fur, her long majestic horns and deep eyes. It is hard to imagine: the whole body, an intricate form of matter, made just to house life within it. this complex mass of ventricles, sinews, muscles, brain, nerves, heart— so delicate and perfect—all made for life. But yet not living. I thought that perhaps this is what it is like on a million other planets, where the complex possibilities for life have formed, but no life has actually come about. But then I see the still chest, the particles of dust already gathering on her unfluttering eyes, the ungoat-like pose (half on her back, with legs slightly crossed): all testimonies of her death. Brandon and Christine appear and seem irreverent (or am I just nostalgic?) and I distance myself from them as we walk back. They joke about death, but I want a few hours to take in the passing of our oldest resident. I work on an RFD article and get carried away by dinner making. But as 1 cook I discover that Psyche and Sensei are ill as well. Psyche is my favorite; she has just given birth to a little girl. Sensei is pregnant—due any day now— most likely with twins. The sourdough garlic dill bread rises, I chop broccoli and I am near tears. Hal, who is visiting for a few months nearby, kindly chops cauliflower He sees me and we hug. We need the distraction of the kitchen, but we still steal away to see how the two beasts are doing, when we can. I go into the lower bam where they are both lying in the heat, moaning. They barely drink water. They are beginning to bloat. I touch Psyche, to comfort her, and remind her secretively that she is my favorite goat, that she has to be strong. We have called Dr. Walker, the vet; he says he will be here when he can. Meanwhile, someone is always with them. Our dear neighbor Catherine shows up and we talk of the goats. Then she and Sandy go to pick Violet leaves for the salad they'll dress with a blueberry wine-turned-vinegar we made last year. There's suppose to be a Taurus party but for me the goats are overwhelming. I even feel bitter when I go to the bathhouse and see so many people dancing to music.

Psyche says she didn't like the Viking Psyche says it wasn't to her liking Psyche says they may have found the New World, But leave my butt alone. Psyche says I had two sons Psyche says it wasn't any fun Psyche says one is in the pasture The other's in the freezer. I go back with Sensei and Hal, who has stayed with her. W'e sit beside the goat who is now moaning so loudly that it sounds like a mother watching her child being slain. I can’t stand the sound. I get some pie and take a sauna with Catherine. After, she and Khir dance together so beautifully, but still I can not even bring up a smile. I go back again to the bam. and now Vera has joined Hal We are there an hour with her, occasionally petting her fur. and whispering words to her when she moans. Sylvan says he will get up and feed her her medications at two a.m.. I go to the cabin to get more clothes so I can wait up till then. When I return Hal says "I think she just died." I look at her, silent now; her neck moves a little, it has relaxed. I see that her belly has loosened too. Vera searches for a heart beat of the one? two? inside her. Nothing. We discuss opening her up to try and save her kids, but we are all exhausted, defeated. We speak to each dazed: "I guess we should get the cart and take her out tonight." A reoccurring nightmare, our herd dying and being carried away, one after another. I get another taper, tell Robin, who wakes and joins us. The sound of the cart is loud, deep, like a constant breath or a train wheel wheezing through the night. An owl screeches in the dark and something rustles by the log as we place the dead mother in it and stand there silently. We couldn't say anything this time. In one day, that decaying chestnut has swallowed three beautiful goats. I walk back with Hal as we hold each others hand, carrying the cart between us with the other hand. When we are in my room, the candles with pulsing flames make it feel as though we are under water. We blow them out. collapsed into each others bodies, and fell asleep.

Country niourna This moment's thought is that life is basically incomprehensible. Whether itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s all going along oh so happily or really dragging you through the miserable bleak streets, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s totally incomprehensible.

Robin

B u t w h y d o e s it m a tte r i f its in c o m p r e h e n s ib le , w e s t i ll c re a te ou r o w n r e a h ty . w h e th e r its to m a k e o u r l iv e s m is e r a b le o r h a p p y

S tjfv a n

I agree. 1 mean, I have no need whatsoever to comprehend anything. 1just want to be happy, and that's something that happens at a sensual level for me, not at the level of mental comprehension. / g u e s s h a p p i n e s s c a n c o m e fr o m a s e n s u a l le v e l, b u t f o r m y s e l f its

fro m th e m o re in t im a t e s id e o f s e n s u a lity , n o t j u s t $ e \ f o r th e lu s t or e n d r e s u lt o f g e t t i n g o f f w i th so m e o n e .

Again I agree, and 1 feel that that intimacy is the simplest thing to allow yourself. For some people, and maybe actually for all o f us at some time or another, the move into intimacy is like being asked to go to Egypt, deconstruct the pyramids, and haul it back to the States and reconstruct them single-handedly. Sometimes it's so easy, sometimes it's so hard. That is what is so incomprehensible. B u t y o u a n d I b o th h jrow h o w s c a r y i t c a n be a t tim e s to r e a lly lo v e so m e o n e .. f i n d m e n in o u r c u ltu re h a v e b e e n ta u g h t s in c e c h i ld h o o d n e v e r to cry o r ber v u ln e r a b le , le t a lo n e d e a l w i t h o r s h o w e m o tio n s .

1 wonder about the ways in which 1 construct invulnerabilities around myself, hardnesses, and realize that The Way is always to be in a place of unconditional love for both self and others. Anything short of that and you're on your way to Egypt. 'U n c o n d it i o n a l lo v e c a n be a g o o d g o a l to w o rf^ fo r, j u s t a s is n o n a tta c h m e n t a n d e n lig h te n m e n t, b u t can a n y o f th o se c o n c e p ts r e a lly b e o b t a in e d ? I s n 't th e r e a c h in g o f th o se g o a l s w h a t e a ch s u c c e s s iv e lif e t im e is a lt a b o u t a n y w a y

Maybe it's what each successive moment is about. There's this reassuring buddhist notion that we are always perfectly enlightened but we are always needing to remember that we are. Thus every moment is a call to recall our perfection, which is a state of love. y e s . w e are a l l b o m p e r f e c tly e n lig h te n e d , j u s t a s e v e r y lif e f o r m is b o m p e r f e c tly e n lig h te n e d , b u t th e n w e b e g in to th in f ^ a n d r e a s o n T h o u g h t b r in g s in c o n c e p ts o f d u a l i ty , g o o d a n d b a d . c lo u d in g o u r e n l i g h t e n e d s ta te

I t i.-t o n ly b y r e a c h in g once a g a i n a p l a c e o f n o n Â

th in k in g o r n o n - d u a lity in w h ic h w e c a n once a g a i n g l im p s e ou r e n lig h te n m e n t

Yes. and so intimacy comes in that space, an intimacy with die general life pulse of all creation. Object becomes unimportant as we let go into that non-thinking non-duality and our striving for intimacy melts away into the more profound intimacy with the breathing surge of the universe. Blah blah blah. T d a y b e w e s h o u l d g o b a c f^ to w r i t i n g a b o u t p r e t ty b i r d s a rid flo w ers, a l l o f th is th in k in g a b o u t d e e p c o n c ep ts m a y be m in in g m y ch a n c e s f o r e n lig h te n m e n t.

SWEET SOUR LILIKOI SAUCE 1/2 c. lilikoi (passionfruit) puree, or concentrate 1/2 c. sugar 1/2 c. white vinegar 1/2 c. water 1 T. sesame oil cornstarch water In a medium size saucepan combine lilikoi, sugar, water, and vinegar. Bring to a boil and whisk in cornstarch water mix. To thicken, add just enough so that sauce just coats the back of a spoon. Add sesame oil, whisk. Keep warm. Makes 2 cups. This sauce accompanies fish, chicken, shrimp, either grilled, sauteed, or fried crispy.

v \A A A A A A /W W W W W W W V GREEN PAPAYA SALAD WITH THAI DRESSING

cuzeevNG*--------------

INGREDIENTS FOR THE SALAD: 3 pieces fresh green papaya 3 pieces fresh tomato (not too ripe) 1/2 c. cilantro leaves

I hope all is well with all of you. We've had a glorious spring here in Atlanta. I swear, Miss Scarlett's flower garden was the prettiest in the neighborhood. It was hard work getting in the gardens, but I wanted it all done before I went to the Beltane Bash. Now that summer's here, I'm ready to go pick some spearmint out in the herb garden and make a pitcher of tea. Then find me some shade and take it easy. To make things a little easier for those cookouts and picnics, I've got a bunch of recipes from a wonderful reader in Hawaii named KaleO Uhane who lives in Honolulu. They were put out by the Hawaii Department of Agriculture. I thought that they were perfect for the summer issue.

INGREDIENTS FOR THE DRESSING: 1/2 c. peanut oil 1/2 c. rice vinegar 2 T. onion, chopped 2 T. sugar 1 t. chili powder 1/2 t. ground ginger 1 t. salt 1 t. fresh red chili finger, chopped Peel the papayas, remove the seeds, and slice into fine julienne. In a pot bring 1 q t . of water to a boil, put the tomatoes in for 10 seconds, and peel. Remove the seeds and slice in julienne. For the dressing, blend all of the ingredients in a food processor. Toss the papayas and tomatoes with the dressing, add cilantro leaves, and serve. Serves 4. PINEAPPLE STIR-FRIED RICE 2 T. sesame oil 1 finely chopped jalapeno 2 T. grated fresh ginger 2 T. finely chopped lemon grass 1 T. minced garlic 1-1/2 c. cooked and chilled brown rice 1/3 c. macadamia nuts nam pla to taste, about 3 T. 3/4 c. finely diced fresh pineapple 3/4 c. chopped mint 1/2 c. coarsely chopped cilantro Heat wok or large pan and add first 4 ingrediÂ ents. Add garlic, stir and cook for 30 seconds (do not burn) . Add brown rice and cook until warm. Add remaining ingredients. Note: Diced shrimp, scallops, or other seafood may be added with garlic. (Continued on page 20)

It is a good idea to add some form of sugar (honey, etc. ) or even use concentrated fruit juice for the liquid portion in order to provide a nice color to the crust ( all sugars caramelize ), although whole wheat flour, already being brown, needs less than white flour. Less oil than a solid fat ts the order of the day also: to one cup of flour use a 1/4 cup of oil or so. Since temperature is not a problem with these crusts, you can mix them with your hands, thoroughly incorporating all the oil evenly before adding the liquid. Crusts made with oil will not be as flaky though equally as short as those made with a solid fat such as butter. For more information on crusts see the aforementioned issue of RFD. On to the fillings proper. I find, in the case of fruit fillings, that less is more by which I mean that the less you try to flavor the fruit the more the natural flavor you will get through. 1 like my fruit pies, well, fruity! Guess it takes a fruit to appreciate the full-bodied taste of another ! For instance, in apple pie. my favorite dessert of all, I only add cinnamon, a sweetener, and a thickener. Real basic, really delicious. And so 1 find it with other fruits and berries as well. Choose one adjunctual flavor in addition to the fruit, for instance, a hint of orange with strawberries, a dash of fresh nutmeg with blueberries, a bit of almond extract with cherries. Allow the additional flavoring to support and round out the fruit rather than overwhelm it. USE YOUR NOSE! Fruit pie fillings lend themselves well to alternate sweeteners. Even if the berry or fruit is sweet to begin with, you will need some additional sweetener to give it that desserty quality as some fruits tend to become a bit bitter when baked. If you use liquid sweeteners, such as honey or maple syrup, keep in mind the flavor of that as well - you will need to consider the total outcome. Light-flavored sweeteners are the most desirable for the same reasons above - you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to overÂ whelm the flavor of the finished pie with strong flavors such as molasses or dark honeys. I have never used concentrated fruit juices for sweeteners but would imagine them lending themselves very well to pies especially if you use the same sweetener as fruit, for instance concentrated apple juice for apple pie. Hey, now that sounds good; 1 am going to try that on my next pie! Keep in mind that most alti native sweeteners have l ess sweetening power than white sugar so you will need to use more of them to achieve the same results. In a large apple pie ( the one baked in that 9 1/2" Pyrex dish ) I use 3 1/2 lb., of Granny Smiths, 2/3 cup of white sugar, and 1/4 cup of flour, plus a little water and cinnamon. The end result is not overly sweet at all. If I were to use honey. I'd go to 3/4 cup or even more. Keep in mind that use of liquid sweeteners necessitates additional thickener to offset the added liquid. Some folks like to add fat, particularly butter, to the filling as well as the crust Nothing wrong here. Added fat will give the pie a more full-bodied and softer texture. Personally, I like fruity pies to be on the light side, keeping with summer fare in general. Follow your preference here. If you use oil for this purpose, donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t add too much.

ONE THOUSAND HELLOS from the concrete jungle! It was certainly transformed in June with all the festive fairy mayhem surrounding the Gay Games, The International Gay & Lesbian Conference and the Stonewall 25 celebrations. I hope, if you weren't able to make it here for the reveries, that you baked up your own. Before I enter into the topic at hand, 3 things: Any comments, suggestions, questions? Drop me a line: P eter B aker P .O . Box 554 NYC, NY 10025 I really enjoy hearing from my readers! I have received two letters since the last column and will wait until I have enough for one issue, so do not be disappointed with the time lag! Secondly, forget thee not to send in your favorite recipes, especially those that do not use sugar and the like. When I receive enough I will put them together in a single column. Lastly, many of my readers request info more geared to natural food baking. In my columns on bread, pie crusts, and cakes, etc. you will find information that is pertinent to either side of the coin although the subject at hand may be white flour or sugar. In many instances, the chemical and mechanical interactions of various ingredients are similar. I started off in the natural foods sector but later moved more into more "mainstream" baking. Since this is where the bulk of my experience lies, it is this that I have to share. In an effort to be sensitive to the needs of my readers and learn in the process, I will endeavor to present more information in this vein and indicate where there are important differences, such as in the column on cakes. If there is a professional natural foods baker or someone who is knowledgeable on the technical aspects of baking without sugar and the like, I would be honored to present a guest-authored column. You can either write it yourself or tape your comments in which case I would be happy to write up the information in a presentable column. This is a reader-written journal! With those things having been said, I will move on to this issue's topic, namely pie fillings. As this is the season when the garden is abundant with delicious fruits and berries, it seems appropriate. Briefly alighting on the subject of pie crusts, which I discussed at length in the Fall '92 issue, one can make a very delicious crtist from whole wheat p a s tr y ( do n o t use bread flour) and oil. Sifting the flour through a fine screen to remove the coarsest particles of bran will result in a more tender crust. You can use any kind of oil except olive however cold-pressed oils such as safflower, peanut, or corn have pronounced flavors which will come through in the finished pie. Safflower is particularly strong, the slightest amount adding an underlying aftertaste that 1 personally do not like. I find canola oil, low in saturated fats (5% ) and completely lacking a strong flavor, the most desirable for baking in general.

Kitchen Queen continued from page 18 AVOCADO TOMATO SALSA (Guacamole Dip) 1 avocado, small cubes 1 tomato, small cubes 1/2 small onion, minced 2 limes, juice only 1/2 piece, chili pepper 2 o z . sake 4 oz. oil 1 T. Chinese parsley, chopped 1 T. greenonion, sliced fine 1 T. freshginger, minced Combine all ingredients and mix well.

Serves 3.

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Let us move on now to the subject of thickeners. Most thickeners, with notable exceptions such as agar and gelatin, are based on starch. Starch molecules, which are actually long chains of sugars, absorb water and swell when heated, a process called gelatinization. This is how they thicken. |Modified food starch is chemically altered so it that will gelatinize without heat on contact with water or water-bearing liquids.| I do not have much experience using agar in pies. I would imagine that one would prebake a shell and pour the cooked, agar-based filling into it, as you could for any of the*thickeners. The 4 that I will talk about here are arrowroot, flour, tapioca, and cornstarch. ARROWROOT'S simple: forget about it as this starch does not gel solid enough to permit a piece of pie to be served whole, i.e., it is too runny. Arrowroot is best for sauces and some glazes. If you intend to freeze the pie, TAPIOCA is the best. I'm talking about tapioca f l o u r here, not pearl or minute tapioca Actually, 1 have never seen it for sale, but one can grind up some pearls to produce the flour. Mix it with some liquid, at the rate of 3 tb. per 4 cups of fresh fruit or substituting 1 tb. for 2 1/2 tb. of flour, and let it stand for 15 minutes before mixing it with the other ingredients. One difficulty with tapioca is that you must not boil it. If the pie crust needs to be baked to where the filling boils, the starch in tapioca will break down. FLOUR is a good all-purpose thickener. White flour is better than whole wheat for this purpose: the latter contains the bran and the germ which reduces the amount of starch available if you substitute it for white flour on a one-to-one basis. Additionally, the bran and germ are not desirable textures in fruit pies. Pies made with flour will not take to freezing nor to very acidic fruits. If the fruits or berries are very watery, the amount of flour that you must use will cause the pie to have a pasty texture. Flour must come to a boil to completely gelatinize. CORNSTARCH is a better choice for acid fruits though tapioca flour is better. Be sure to mix it with some of the liquid in order to guarantee that it is lumpless. Cornstarch will break down if not handled correctly. Do not overcook it, nor use too much sugar in the filling. Oddly, too much cornstarch will also cause the filling to break down. If you are making the filling separately, cook it in a double boiler to 185 degrees stirring constantly. When it reaches that temperature, cover and cook 10 minutes longer, maintaining 185 degrees, without stirring. Remove from the heat and stir gently to release trapped steam. 1)0 N() I HKAT. Pour into the prebaked shell and chill. Personal!v, I tind cornstarch too picky for use in pies unless the filling is made separately where the process of gelatinization can be better controlled to insure successful results. Usage: 2 tb. cornstarch for 4 cups of fresh fruit or 1 tb. in place of 2 tb. of flour. For all of the above, prebaking the shell and cooking the filling on top of the stove, filling the shell then chilling the whole pie for several hours is a better way to go unless you want a double-crusted pie (top & bottom). HAPPY BAKING, BONVIVANTS!!!

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9 1 c. fresh pineapple, m e d . dice 1 c. fresh mango, med. dice 1 c. fresh tomatoes, med. dice 1/2 T. jalapeno pepper, minced 1 T. tamari 1 T. fish sauce 1/2 rice vinegar 1 T. fresh garlic, minced 2 t. fresh ginger, minced 1 oz. peanut oil 1 t. honey

Prepare all ingredients and mix well in a nonreactive stainless steel bowl. This salsa goes well with grilled chicken or fish and even makes an interesting side dish to curries or Mexican food.

Well, 1 guess I've run on for long enough. I hope you'll give these recipes a try and enjoy them. So long for now. Take care of yourselves and be good to each other. Aloha till next time, y'all.

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Blessed Be, I hope all of you have had as wonderful a spring as I did. It came early and stayed. As I'm writing this, I wonder what sort of summer we'll have. Here in the south, we suffered from heat and drought last year, while the midwest was washed away with flood after flood. This year, let's pray that Mother will balance things out

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July gets off to a start with the old waning moon conjuncting Mars in the pre-dawn of the 5th. The actual conjunction takes place at 5:02 AM GMT, so those of you in Great Britain and western Europe should get to see it just before sunrise. It will be a very close conjunction. By the time we on the east coast of the USA get to see it, the moon will appear just below Mars. The morning of the 7th, the moon will be in close conjunction with Mercury This will be very close to the eastern horizon and may be washed out by the rising sun. On the evening of the 11th, the new crescent moon will be below and left of Venus just after sunset. Venus will also be conjuncting the star Regulus. The evening of the 16th, at sunset the moon will be conjuncting Jupiter directly overhead. The moon will be to the left and below Jupiter. For those of you in Europe, the actual conjunction will take place at 8:12 PM GMT. The evening of the 25th the moon will be conjuncting Saturn. We will miss the actual conjunction. Saturn will rise after sunset with the moon rising shortly afterward and to the left of Saturn. Once again, those of you in Europe will get to see the actual conjunction which takes place at 10:18 PM GMT. The early morning of the 30th we will be passing through the Delta Aguarid meteor shower. The shower will be coming out of the south at a rate of 10-35 per hour and it will peak about 3:00 AM EDT. The problem is that the old moon will rise about midnight and will be traversing the southern sky at that time and will probably wash out all but the real brilliant ones.

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During the first part of August, the moon will be rising later and later. Even after the new moon of the 7th it will be setting early so that we will have a lot of moonless nights to see the Milky Way stretched out towards the south and

The best days for above-ground in September are 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14, 17, and 18. The best days for below-ground are 1, 22, 23, 24, 27, 28, and 29.

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The early morning of the 1st of September, the moon will be conjuncting Mars. It will be left and above Mars. Once again, if you live in Europe, the actual conjunction will be at 1:59 AM, GMT, which should be about moonrise. That same evening, Saturn will be opposite the sun and will rise at sundown and be visible till sunrise on the 2nd. Also, this will be our closest point to Saturn, so get out those telescopes. The evenings of the 7th, 8th, and 9th you will definitely want to do some stargazing. There will be three evening stars in the west at sunset with the new crescent of Diana's moon passing by all three while Saturn is the evening star on the eastern horizon. On the 7th the moon will be left and above Mercury. On the 8th it will be to the right of Venus and slightly below moving on up to make the actual conjunction at 10:20 PM EDT. On the 9th the moon will be above and left of Jupiter. For you in Europe, the actual conjunction takes place at 6:59 PM GMT. On the evening of the 17th the almost full moon will be sitting above and right of Saturn. If you want to see the actual conjunction, it takes place the next morning (18th) at 4:03 AM EDT. The evening of the 26th Mercury will reach its greatest elongation (26°) east of the sun. Just after sunset, you'll see it as the bright star low, near the horizon, and left of where the sun set. The morning of the 29th the moon will conjunct Mars, again. It will be above and left of Mars. That same evening, Venus will conjunct Jupiter. By sunset, Venus will be just above and left of Jupiter. Once again, if you live in Europe, the actual conjunction will be at 9:52 PM GMT. You guys have really made out this summer as far as star gazing. Makes me wish I could spend my summer in Europe with you.

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The best days for above-ground in August are 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 17, and 18. The best days for below-ground are 4, 5, 22, 23, 26, 27, 28, and 31. Well, that's about going to do it for this time. I hope you're reaping great harvests from your gardens and don't forget to get those winter gardens in by the end of August if possible. This way they'll have plenty of growth to help them produce in cold weather. So long for now. Take care of yourselves and each other and may love be the wind beneath your wings.

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Y~<\i\g c7)ejutv the world is empty, a complete vacuum. I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t bear the dread of being discriminated against and laughed at. One night I dreamed I was in a police station. Two cops wanted to examine my body and ordered me to strip off. Having realized there was not any trace on my body, having never had sex with anyone -- man or woman, I obeyed their order and stood naked before them. The cops did nothing but sit there. One sneered, "You like to be looked at, don't you?" and turned his eyes to the outside. Following his gaze I saw crowds laughing outside the door and window. When 1 woke up I was sopped with cold sweat. Because of all this suffering. I determined to leave, Last summer, my friend in San Francisco wrote me that his friends had seen some gays in Peijing. Shanghai and Quangzhou while traveling in China. I decided to go to one of these places. Peijing reminds me of blood and political oppression. Shanghai's fall from an international finance center in the early part of this century explains her conservatism. So 1 chose Quangzhou as my goal.

In Issue # 74. Summer. â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;93. we published a letter from a young gay man living in a small town in China. It eloquently described his journey toward personal acceptance and his search, against great cultural resistance, for others like himself. In this subsequent communique. De jun tells how he journeyed across the breadth of China to a large urban center in an attempt to locate other gay people.*12345

In an autocratic country , freedom of speech is not among one's civil rights. The dictator clenches the mass media tightly in his fists. What people learn is what the dictator wants them to learn. Homosexuality, for many reasons -- political, historical and cultural -- is said to be abnormal and a mental disease. There are four official publications that discuss the homosexual "problem." They mention it only when talking about AIDS or propagandizing about how degenerate are the young people of western capitalist countries. How to cure this "disease?" One "expert" gave this advice to a gay who wrote to a magazine: 1) Realize you are abnormal and determine to build normal emotional attachments with the opposite sex. 2) Avoid meeting your same-sex lover as much as possible in order to forget him thoroughly. 3) When your penis gets erect before your same-sex lover, give yourself some painful responses, such as a hard snap from a rubber band worn around your wrist or injecting yourself with an emetic. 4) Take a sedative to calm your nervous mind. 5) Marry a woman -- the best method of all.

Hardly had I ended the harvest when I found myself on a train to Quangzhou. The railway covers a distance of nearly 5.000 kilometers (3.000 milesl and crosses seven provinces before reaching Quangzhou Station. 1 decided to try my luck with a young man who'd been sitting opposite me since the night before. We had talked a lot. "Would you mind my asking you a few questions?" I inquired. Getting his agreement, I w'rote the Chinese character for homosexuality in my palm and put it before his face, asking, "Do you know it?" He smiled with a little embarrassment as soon as he caught sight of the word. "If you think it is a difficult question, of course you can ignore it." I told him. But I was certain he knew the word by the way he nodded his head. He told me he knew it from magazines and news papers, adding that his boss was a Hong Kong person and often brought back magazines from there. That was his main source of information about homosexuality. I asked whether his boss was gay. "Of course not." he answered. "Have you ever seen a gay around vou?" I asked. "No." Then 1 asked his opinion of homosexuals. "They seem not to be normal and decent people." he said. "Why do you think that? IX) you think I look like an abnormal person? I am gay." "You?" He smiled again, suspiciously. "Really?" I told him that about ten percent of the human population is homosexual and that so many well-known people, both at home and abroad, have been homosexual, including some emperors. I explained that there is a festival for homosexual people and that once every few

Being a gay with discernment. 1 certainly do not believe this nonsense; but neither can I find any gays around to discuss it with. The Chinese population is 1.2 billion. According to Dr. Kinsey's figures, about 120 million of these people should be homosexual. Even allowing a fiftypercent discount, that should be 60 million, not a small amount. Where are they? How can they quietly allow publications to say they are abnormal? My former psychologist said that I was a rarity of rarities, as if I was rarer than dinosaur fossils. My efforts at seeking out homosexuality have been unfruitful. I can't bear the matchmaker's visits to my house over and over again. Chinese matchmakers have the hottest hearts in the world; their passion in their busy business can melt icebergs, but not me. Nor can I bear the accusations of parents, family, married friends, elders, - in fact any people who feel they have the right to blame me for being unmarried beyond the marriageable age. My uncle once directed his anger at me. "Why aren't you married yet? What are you waiting for? You are already 26 years old!" I can't bear the loneliness. In the day-time I can pretend that life is happy and laugh and joke with friends. But when night comes, especially when I'm unfortunate enough to be awake at midnight. I feel

struggling to keep free of starvation and unemployment?"

years U.S. homosexuals hold games. I showed him a badge from Gay Games IV which I got from a U.S. friend. "Why is it worth celebrating?" he wondered. "Just to show we are as healthy as you are," I answered. He worked in Huizhou, a city a bit east of and similar to Quangzhou. I asked him whether it would be possible for me to take a temporary job if I couldn't find any gay people after a time. He said that jobs are difficult to find, but he would help me get a job in his city if I failed. He left me his telephone number and the name of his corporation. When we parted in Quangzhou Station, he even wished me luck in my search.

"Do you know any homosexuals among your Hong Kong or Taiwan associates?" I asked "No." "Is there anyone trying to buy or sell homosexual tapes?" "No." "Then," I asked in despair," what do you think about homosexuality?" "It is usually the diversion of rich men, those who lead an easy life." "Do I look like I'm rich? Do I look like an easy-life person?" "I don't know," he shrugged.

Quangzhou, the capital of Quangdong province, is near Hong Kong. In 1ยง40, the British fired on the Qing government there and forcibly occupied Hong Kong two years later. Today, Quangzhou is an experimental region of free-market economy. One can meet people there who come from all the various provinces. I wrote the Chinese character for homosexuality on a strip of paper and showed it to people, asking if they knew it. Some said they did not and some said they recognized it from magazines. One young man said, "One of my friends is gay." "How do you know?" 1 asked. "Whenever I visit him at his office, he is always putting his hands on my body and touching everywhere," he replied. "What do you think of him, -- his work, behavior and so forth?" "To be honest, he is a very decent person except for his being abnormal." "Why do you think he is abnormal?" "Being gay just is abnormal. Don't you believe it is not normal when two men or two women have sex?" "Do you think I'm abnormal? I'm gay too." I told him I came from remote Xingiang and was seeking homosexual people, that our government denies homosexuality exists in China and that I wish to write some facts about it. When he heard the percentage of gays in the human population, he was very surprised. "Even so," he said, "can you tell me what possible fun can there be when two men or women have sex?" His question rendered me speechless. My life had not provided me any experience on that point. I asked him to give me his friend's address, but he refused, saying, "I've broken off our friendship. I have a dislike for gays." He added that his friend had been sent to hospital for his "illness" and that he had "recovered." Another young man said he knew a gay who had been taken into police custody for having sex in a hotel. I asked for his current address. He said he didn't know it because they met each other only in public places. But he promised to tell his friend of our meeting the next time he saw him, so I left my address with him. Sometimes I am a little worried if he may have handed my address to the authorities. What would happen?

I told another man I met about the many gay and lesbian organizations in America and other countries and about the intention of my journey. "How much do you get paid for this work?" he asked, and was stunned to learn that I had no financial support. He considered me either an idiot or a madman to continue in this way. "I write for my heart and for all of China's homosexual people," 1 told him. I met a Shenzhen University student on his way to my hometown of Xingiang. He said there were gay students at the university, but that they usually come from Chinese families in Hong Kong and other Southeast Asian countries and usually rent a dormitory together. They can be spotted without any difficulty, he said, but the school turns a blind eye because they are not Chinese citizens. "Homosexual activity tends to occur among those with a high level of education and those who come from developed countries," he remarked, when I asked for his opinion. 'Are there any Chinese gays in your compound?" I pursued. "No. Chinese students have no interest in that game. And there is no impetus to be homosexual. More and more it appears to be a Western hobby of the rich and senseless." "Do you think homosexuality might ever be popular someday when the Chinese economy has developed?" "I don't think so," he said. "It still depends on Chinese tradition and culture." I sat on a stone stool on the square at the railway station one night, watching many single ladies, apparently prostitutes, plying their trade without any interference from the police. I debated whether to consult with them. A lad strolled by and spoke with one of the women before they began to leave together. "Whore and whoremaster are not cowards," I said to myself. "They must know many things ignored by the common people." I followed, but before I caught up with them they had disappeared in the crowd. In disappointment, I found a motorscooter driver sitting astride his motor. There are a great number of scooters for hire as taxis in Quangzhou. "Do you know this?" I said, drawing out the word strip for him. "I'm going to write . . . " "No!" he shouted, before I had finished, giving me an angry stare.

Peking Street, the downtown district of Quangzhou, is bustling with people. It is also haunted by smugglers. Walking along one day, I heard a low voice inquire, "Need something? Used clothing? Videocorder? Computer?" The middle-aged speaker followed me for a few steps before I dismissed him. I went ahead about ten meters and suddenly thought, "Why don't I ask him my question?" Turning, I called out, "Hi!" He thought I wanted to buy his goods. "Could you give rne a hand? But it has nothing to do with your business." "That is no matter, " he replied. "We can make friends instead of doing business." All this time he was keeping an alert eye on the policeman who patrolled the street. "It's not a good place for talk here," he said. "Let's go someplace else." As we walked, he explained that he smuggled used clothing, electronic equipment and videotapes, both violent and yellow [pom]. His goods came from Hong Kong, Taiwan and Macao. When we came to the compound of a Chinese medical hospital, I drew out the word strip and showed it to him. "Have you any videotapes concerning this?" I inquired. "No." He seemed to be at a little loss. "Don't be nervous," I said calmly and told him of my quest to find some gay people. "No one wants to be homosexual on the mainland," he said. "It is not to their advantage." "It is not that someone wants to be homosexual, but that a homosexual identity exists in one's nature," I corrected him. "It might be like that," he said. "But how do you expect people on the mainland to be naturally homosexual while they are so busy

Another day I wandered along the Pearl River carrying a small plastic bag with half-a-dozen carambola [star fruit] I had bought from a peddler. "Need something?" a man sitting on the curbstone asked. Another smuggler. "Don't you want to take something back to the interior?" He explained that he knew I was from the interior by the star fruit. It was not quite ripe and the locals would not buy it in that season. "You have very good eyesight," I said. "I'm not going to buy anything, but could you help me?" I showed him the word strip. "I'd like to help you, but I know nothing about it." I persisted. "I read in a book that the imperial palace once selected a gay boy from your province. Don't you know of it?" "Really?" He seemed surprised. "Well, it might have been like that, but only before liberation. Aged people perhaps know more about it" Not far off I saw an old man sitting reading a newspaper. "Sorry, sir." I bent over him. "May I ask you something?" "What is it?" He raised his head from the paper. I handed the word strip to him. "I'm going to write something about it."

He squinted at the stnp. As soon as he caught distinct sight ot the word, he glanced at me. "1 can't catch your words." he said and buried himself back in his newspaper. Indeed. Quangdong people speak a dialect very different from common Chinese speech, but the old man used this fact as a shield The smuggler was right. The star fruit was bitter and puckers . I threw one into the nver. then the whole bag. The water was turbid and sent forth a foul smell. Rubbish floated on the surface. I searched all of Quangzhou. I inquired of many people, male, female, elder, younger. I wandered the avenues and lanes, both day time and night. 1 found no gays at all.

Marly the next morning. 1 managed to get the address of the telephone number 1 had called. It was a guest house on the outskirts of the city. The attendant said that the inn had been chartered by a Hong Kong company as an apartment house and that the guests were absolutely all Hong Kong people, none from the mainland. I asked to see the manager, and he assured me they had no such guest. "You might have been fooled," the manager suggested. What could 1 say? 1 took a bus back to Quangzhou. My wallet would not allow me to stay any longer, so I bought a train ticket for the next morning. A few hours before departure, I realized I had not done any sight-seeing in the city. 1 went to Sun Zhongshen |l)r. Sun Yat-sen) Memorial Hall. I sat before Mr. Sun Zhongshen's copper statue for a long time. It was Sun Zhongshen who led the Chinese people in overthrowing the monarchy and sending a decadent and incompetent emperor packing eighty years ago. It was Sun Zhongshen who first advocated science and democracy in China. Nearly a century has passed since then. Today, if our dictator treated homosexuality with a scientific attitude, would I have had to go on so far a journey in search of homosexuals and be greeted with such supercilious looks'.1 As for democracy, it is as close to China as the sky is to the ground. With the train's shrill whistle. I escaped from Quangzhou. 1 could find no time to evaluate my long journey. It seemed insensible. Hour after hour passed. Then I felt something warm flow from my closed eyes. Would Chinese homosexual people have any good fortune in the next twenty or thirty years? I wondered. August 20. 1993

Quangzhou’s economy has grown greatly since China's reform and new economic openness. The expense of living there has grown at the same time. I found my inland funds did not hold up well against a market economy. After being in Quangzhou for only a week, my wallet was nearly empty. I had to think of where my next meals would come from. I thought of the young man I had met on the train. It seemed my only choice to go seek him out. I went to Huizhou by bus. The trip took five hours. It was almost evening when 1 arrived in the city. Calling the number the man had given me. I could not understand the dialect of the voice on the other end. The operator, after requesting eight yuan for charges, advised me to go directly to the corporation where the man told me he worked. With serial difficulties, I at last found the company. Two guards at the building convinced me that the man 1 sought had already left for the day. This was an ill omen. I began to wonder if the man had been playing with me.

too. I told them that there would be lots of people dressed up in costumes, especially men in drag and faerie costumes. On the ride down I explained that at this parade many men like to dress up as women. This explanation seemed to suffice, and my son was actually excited at the prospect of men in drag. He has always loved to dress up in girl’s clothing, a behavior which 1 have allowed in my house. Sure enough, within minutes a six foot tall creature of beauty strutted by wearing black tights, five-inch sparkled platform shoes and a mini-skirt to die for. She had a head dress which must have been designed by the same person who dreamed up the Empire State Building. What a riot! My kids were in heaven: wide-eyed and screaming with delight, they were taking it all in. We walked some thirty-five blocks before we got tired and decided to sit and rest. We had fun watching the parade pass by. The floats, costumes and activists made for a captivating hour. My heart was filled with love and pride that day. Parading down Fifth Avenue while thousands waved and cheered gave me and my family a sense of pride, joy and belonging. I was especially glad that the kids got to be a part of such a meaningful event. I’m sure they thought that everyone was waving just at them. For me it was important to show them that they are not the only kids with a gay dad. Throughout the day l was able to point out the hundreds of children with two mommies and two daddies. I’m sure that having an openly gay dad will present many challenges for these two young people throughout their lives. I also know in my heart that this parade and all like it will go a long way in building a sense of belonging for them...I know it has for me.

Our Day at the Parade by EVAN LAC ON

'or weeks FI had been debating

whether to go to the Gay Pride parade in New York. I had gone to the March on Washington and was left with a profound sense of safety, hope and self love. The main question for me about New York's parade was what w'as I going to do with my two children. My son Loren (age 7) and my daughter Julia (age 3.5) were scheduled to be with me for that day and I knew that I was going to spend the day with them no matter what, so my choice was take them or pass it by. My dilemma was strictly one of logistics. How; does a Dad keep two small children safe and happy in New York during an event in which 250.000 people are crowded into a 1/4 mile radius? Not to mention how do I stay sane and have enough energy to drive home 90 miles after it’s over. I needed a co-parent, someone to share the joys and difficulties of parenting with me for the entire day. I started to put the word out to all my friends. 1 knew that I needed a firm commitment from someone I trusted and my kids liked in order for me to go. My then boyfriend of one year finally agreed to co-parent the children with me, and with that we were off. The weather was spectacular and this was a relief. Many welf meaning friends said I was crazy going to the city in 100 degree heat with two kids. However. I felt secure that the weather spirits would not allow rain on our parade and in fact the day turned out to be spectacular. Now you have to understand one thing about me: I have a totally irrational fear of losing my kids in the city, never seeing them again and living the rest of my life tortured with fear and sorrow, not to mention that their mother would probably kill me. I’ve even had dreams of this exact scenario. Mind you. I’ve never actually lost either of my kids (except once in Disney World when I lost my son for about four minutes) so 1 was willing to proceed with unbounded confidence. After a tun ride down in the morning, we arrived in New York at I 1:30, parked the car and headed over to find the Center Kids contingent. Center Kids is a group of openly gay and lesbian parents with children. I knew that they had hired a trolley, and we decided to hang with them for the parade. I immediately felt safe. I just love being around gay parents, and the sense of community I instantly felt was empowering. The sun was shining. I was filled with excitement at being surrounded by my brothers and sisters, and I felt that the rest of the world just didn’t exist...as if the entire universe was made up of lesbians, gays and all those in between. For me I was ’’home." My kids were in heaven

Evan Lac on is a sacred brother with a bodywork practice in New York's Hudson Valley. He is a parent of Julia and Loren and runs empowerment groups for gay men.

SNOW HENGE

Faeries in ’60's drag, faeries in ancient hooded robes, faenes in beaded cocktail dresses, all sway to the drums and enchanted bells. One drummer faerie weaves the beat to which the crowd dances. Dancing Wolf, descendent of the Aegean Isles, keeps a magical rhythm for this whirling wheel with fire leaping at its hub and crystals as its walls. A Trio of Priestly Faeries lead this pulsating lifesaver of faene consciousness without saying a word. Gabriel. Princess Faerie of the Destinies; Leeis, Prince Guardian of the Tree Spirits; Bill. Faerie Elder of the Tantric Way. The triune leadership weaves and jumps, changing the standing faeries into an electric ring of fire. Slowly the whirl approaches a standstill. A quietness arises manifesting the existent power found in all faene circles. Dancing, chanting, invoking gods, goddesses, spirits of nature, spirits of the past, even the spint of Harvey Milk! The dancing, w-hirling circle finally comes to a stop. All face inward to the fire within the cauldron. The Pnncess Faerie of the Destinies announces our need for guidance. The lodge is up for sale. Destiny is only rented by we FaerieFolk. The owner must sell. Do we organize and spiral down and buy the land? Or is it time to move on? We all focus our energies on this issue. As the fire blazes, the walls of snow glow from within as the multitudes of candles tucked away in the walls add their enlightenment. The Prince Guardian of the Tree Spirits prepares our sacred communion, first with the tears of the apple blossom, next with the grains married to yeast. The end comes hours later. Faeries drop away in the hushed sacredness of SnowHenge, our faerie temple.

a Vermont Temple for the Spring Equinox a gathering journal by Tom Stama M arch 17 -- St. P a tric k 's Day -- Coming down 12A, there is this giant four-leaf clover made out of snow stained with green food coloring. The road off US 12A is nearly impassable, a sea of mud with ruts so deep most cars would fall in dragging their underbellies. Thank the Goddess for butch pickup trucks! How does Agnes navigate this mess in her car? Find the lavender chiffon scarves tied tastefully to a tree. This must be Destiny lodge! Hither that or some wild lumberjack has been marking his territory in the most rrrs Fax manner! looking around, snow piled as high as the roof line on the lodge. Must be four to five feet deep in spots. Some spring gathering this is going to be in the damn snow. Where the hell is everybody? Did Agnes and Gabriel cancel the gathering because of the snow?

M arch 20 -- the V ernal E quinox -- As we gather in the sacred precinct in mid-aftemoon, we learn the real estate agent has called, canceling today's showing of the property. We cannot imagine why. Could the spirits we so masturbated last night be that pleased with their faerie children? Laughing and auming, our focus starts to build. Shanks of baling twine are handed out by the Guardian Prince, crossing the cauldron fire from one faerie to an opposing fey. A knot dangles over the fire with all connected to it. Slowly, a weaving dance —in and out, up and down, backward and forward - increases the knot, pulling the circle in closer and closer to the fire. Finally, when all the lines to the faeries are very short, we collectively lower the grand weaving knot into the cauldron. One string after another bums, freeing the knot which drops in flames into the huge black pot. Fire consumes our enchanted work; no more needs to be done. Some far-sighted faeries have put blue tarps on the frozen sod floor of the temple. We all sit down. As a collective, we discuss the importance of the real estate agent and the prospective buyer canceling their appointment. It is time to act. At first we heard it as only a whisper in the wind; as the days and weeks have passed, we now can loudly hear that Destiny Lrodge needs to be owned bv the faeries. iVc jV v iVc >-y-f # W W W W T h in k in g b ack about how enchanted, how magical, how unbelievable the gathering was, I realize that the sacred temple of SnowHenge is now water flowing into streams and rivers and down to the ocean. Some of it remains in the local water table; but most of it is hundreds of miles away, like we faeries who were there and now work our magic in a world too used to being numb. I hope we can hold onto Destiny Lodge and turn it into a space we can all enjoy for eternity.

# # # # # # M arch 19 -- Eve o f the V ernal E quinox -- The weather has turned colder. The sea of mud is now frozen solid and topped with a new dusting of snow. The lodge is full of faeries. Faeries wearing lipstick. Faeries painting each other’s nails. Flaeries in the most avantgarde dresses. Faeries lounging everywhere you turn. Faeries working their magic on both an electric range and an old kitchen woodstove. Delightful chaos; faerie chaos! Above the lodge named for one of the fates ~ Destiny, industrious faeries are busy working the snow as a spell. Laughter, giggles, riotous joy winds its way over the valley, tumbling down from this lofty ledge. Faeries are at play! These feys dig out the snow, boring down to the frozen grass sod in a great circle. Two feet down, three feet down, and in some parts five feet down. Queer as can be, the girls out do themselves. Using plastic rectangular tubs and a tall, round garbage pail, they slowly raise the enchanted ringlet. First is a foundation to even out the highs and lows of drifted snow. Then comes a course of columns jutting up into the sky, followed by ringing blocks of snow capping the columned enclosure. The "masonic" faeries even build a winding path climbing up from the lodge and turning into a grand entrance stairway. Just like ancient Greek ruins, the stairway is even lined with stele. Cecil B. De Mille, eat your heart out! From below the sight is enchanting. The hill ledge is crowned with what appears to be an ancient temple of snow as royal as the Acropolis in Athens, as priestly as the Temple Mound in Jerusalem, as mysterious as Stonehenge in old Britain. A circular wall of snow, crystals of water, infinite star patterns. Hark! Our faerie temple, our SnowHenge, begins! Faeries gather in groups, looking at the handiwork of magic wrought by their sisters. As night veils the valley of the ancient Abenaki, here at I>estiny Irodge acolytes light torches, recessed candles in niches, and votive lights atop the walls of this sacred compound of frozen star crystals. Down below in the lodge, as supper preparations near completion, a cha-cha dance, complete with Vic Damone music, bursts into being at the lodge hall. Faeries in the most delightful high drag fashion, including two with the exact same 1960's cocktail dress. Go figure. In 1994, two queens can still come up with the same 1960's dress! Behold the golden glow of SnowHenge, candles recessed in walls, luminaria on top of the nng of columns. Behold the centered iron cauldron with flames leaping from within. The frolicking, dancing procession tills the circular concourse, faeries whirling round and round the cauldron. Caressed by the walls, crowned with columns of pure snow, the revelers stay protected from the harsh winter winds.

,.3 MD THeYN^neD By MaxZine Weinstein

Idealizing Demonstrative Acceptance The early hardships for the gay pioneers down in the hollow were nothing compared to the emotional, psychic, and interpersonal challenges of establishing trust, community and consensus (and, how do you determine when you have consensus'-oops let us maintain the Inside Dish Abstinence currently favored). Some of the issues were resolved with a visit from a seasoned community practitioner and his assistant in what is fondly remembered as Process-A-Fest ‘94. As time passed, the 10 men (including 6 residents and assorted guests, visitors, and Ladies in Waiting) developed smoother meeting skills and got to know each other

HSKIDA

A follow-up article on the new community (see “ The Dream Becomes Reality,” Winter ‘93).

Ten faeries have nursed Infant Distinctive Ambition through her first spring, as the newest queer-safe space-radical-ruralcommunity comes to fruition in the hills and hollows of Tennessee. The following Illustrious Demure Analysis will help you to peek into the adventure of bringing gay people gaily together as they chart new horizons at the 243 acres some call Idyll Dandy Acres. Identity Defies Anchor: The IDAhos moved into a spectacular hollow just before a hard winter hit, and did not have the opportunity to winterize the Back House (also known as the House on Hemlock Hill, White Trash Hollow, The Real House, or the Playhouse). Therefore, the eight (a number which fluctuated almost daily through the chilly days) residents doubled up in rooms in the Front House (sorry, but that is the only name known as we go to press) when they were not travelling to warmer climates. The IDAhomos Definitely Agreed they would get grounded as a group in the spring, and set off for winter fun in the sun at the Keys Fairy Gathering, Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and some strange concerts out west.

ID A enjoy one of the fabulicious waterfalls. This is not the "big one".

Iconoclastic Decentralized Acclimation: With the arrival of warmer temperatures, the IDAhoes got ready to plant their first garden and sow the seeds of their new community. Surely, planting some fruits and vegetables would reveal their identity as they learned to live and play together. A garden plan was drawn up, and eventually ignored. Well, sort of. That is, some of it was dropped but the concept of crop rotation was saved. Sort of. Some people decided not to work in the garden. There were many opinions about what and how and where to do things, and ultimately those who did the tasks determined the outcome. Sometimes individuals gardened alone; other times the garden was a hub of activity with faeries dancing to music as they spilled their seed in the newly created beds. The garden became a lush hub of succulent flavors, as lettuce, spinach, radishes, mustard greens, arrugula, and broccoli filled many salad bowls. The true success is owed to the Inspired Diva Art which graces the garden. The IDA line of crops includes gods and goddesses (painted wooden figures) who have been planted for the protection they offer. There is the One Eyed Spinach Goddess, KaliFlower (smoking a cigarette as she hangs out), the White Broccoli Mystic with a hand growing out of her head, Mr. Mustard (with his pink flair), the swishing Romaine Goddess, the Green Cabbage Goddess (with thorns popping out of her head. Cabbage moths b e w a re !), a n d m a n y more.

better. It also helped having more permanent rooms to settle into, and discovering the wonders these 243 acres and surrounding lands contain. The most prominent feature is the infamous waterfall (about 100 ft. tall, give or take 40 ft.). Ingenious Dramatic Associations: IDA is situated in Middle Tennessee as part of the Greater Bi Faerie Community (not bisexual, IDA is bored with that so-called controversy). Between IDA, Short Mountain Sanctuary, and various neighbors, the area may just yet become a gay paradise (of course, there are still churches and interesting visits from curious local tourists who have heard all kinds of stories about them there communards). IDA has been blessed with assistance from many of our neighbors, starting with a fab welcome wagon from two locals, Iona Dildo and Fonda Cox. In turn, IDA shares her offerings with her local brethren. Infinite Dollar Appeal: IDA is currently rented by the residents, who are committed to purchasing the land, two houses, two barns, two springs, and two partridges in a pear tree to continue the dreams. These dreams go beyond setting up the community to include art festivals, establishment of a local farmers market, and retreats/workshops. Feel free to share your ideas with IDA, and she will graciously accept your assistance in the purchasing plans (various avenues are being discussed-contact IDA for more details). You, the reader, are welcome to visit this Intricate Darling Alcove. Write ahead for details and directions (IDA. 904 Vickers Hollow Road, Dowelltown, TN 37059), or call (615) 597-4409. We are about 75 miles from Nashville. (Watch for the stars there. As one IDAette was sent off by a gaggle of faeries in the airport, Roy Rogers [yes, he is still alive) appeared and autographed a picture on a zine of two men kissing!)

Incessant Deluges Amuck: Spring followed winter's mess (topped off by a massive ice storm) with incredulous rains. The creek that crosses the driveway rose and prevented cars from passing. Those who thought they would never practice watersports were in for a fun challenge as they held onto a rope and crossed through the cold, swift waters. These Icy Daring Activities peaked as the creek swelled on Passover. Not only did the creek race over the banks and precipitate incredible erosion, but Charlton Heston refused to repeat his Moses miracle and part IDA’s creek to assist in passage over to a fair faery Passover affair. Some IDAholys donned their finest beach attire as they braved the chilly torrent to reach their petroleum guzzling chariots parked on the other side.

Watch for more IDA updates in future issues of RFD.

J v E C A L L I t IG j^ O R M B R ^ Q

CADBS

AN RFD RETROSPECTIVE: PA R T 4 ^ARL? 19*6 TO RUMMER 1990 The fourth installment of RFDs retrospective begins with the thirteenth year. Issue #48 (Fall 1986) and includes the last two years the magazine was published in North Carolina and its first two years in Tennessee, ending with issue #62 (Summer 1990). Overall. I was quite impressed with the broad scope of articles which appeared in volume 13. The magazine continued to balance the humorous sideways-looking-at-life and the world, with the sober and sad facts of life in the Reagan/Bush late 80s. This included numerous articles on the uniqueness or "otherness" of the gay sensibility/spirituality and the hope or promise of a new world with the Harmonic Convergence, as well as the assaults that we as gay people were experiencing on many fronts: from friends being diagnosed with AIDS to the eroding of our rights as human beings.

control the outcome by controlling the way the events are seen [in the press)." Also adding to the already heavy political climate, the Meese Commission on Pornography reached its conclusions, about which Ron observes in "The Inside Story", "We have had to play the censor on our own efforts, not knowing what would be misinterpreted as "offensive." In fact in this issue one explicit story' about prison sex was censored by the collective, leaving out the graphic depictions of gay sex."

An overwhelming feeling of despair around the worsening political climate permeated the first issue (Fall #48) of RFDs thirteenth year. The Inside Story, the announcement section and several articles all address the feeling of hate and prejudice that marked the Reagan/Bush era in politics. This was not so much a "country journal", but a voice of concern about our eroding rights and well being. The Hardwick decision by the United States Supreme Court had just been handed down that summer. Stuart Norman, the political editor, wrote in "Sodomize For Freedom" not to fear too much the Rightward swing of the political pendulum. "Political backlashes always occur sooner or later. That may seem a platitude. But there will he a liberal/progressive backlash when this political climate goes too far. Mark my words, the Reagan administration will be seen infamously in historical perspective.... Our hopes lie in that someday the patriarchy/war mentality of power/force/might-makes-right will only be a nightmare from which we have awakened." Ron Lambe. writing in his "Inside Story" column stated. "We need a strategy for surviving the late 80's. We need to get serious about protecting ourselves and nurturing our own nascent and ancient culture. But. we cannot accomplish this if we are isolated or separated; we must be with each other... (W|e need a sense of community." "The Importance of Truth: Crimes Against Gays." is a very informative article about the nature of being gay in the 80’s. The author. D. Cathcart, chronicles two events: the murder of Charlie Howard in Bangor. Maine by three juveniles, and the removal of two children from a foster home of two gay men in Boston. He concluded by noting. " I begin to think that when these events occur when the straight world rubs up against us in a way in which they cannot avoid acknowledging our presence, when these great abuses come to light the institutions in the straight world

While all the news on the political front was not bad. David Thorstad, in an article reprinted from Gay Community News and entitled "Free At Last", talks about the passage of New York City's Gay and Lesbian Civil Rights bill. Buddy May. who is the current Kitchen Queen, took over as the department head with this issue of what was then called the "Country Kitchen." I found it quite interesting to reread this issue of RFD and to recall the continual assault we were experiencing as gay people. There was an overwhelming feeling that we had to fight simply to maintain the most minimal of rights, compounded with the fact that many of our dearest friends were sick and dying of complications from AIDS. The second issue, # 49. was filled with much less despair about the political climate. This issue followed the 1986 mid-term elections where the democrats regained control of the Senate. This was the largest issue since 1981: 84 pages. There is a diverse voice spoken. The feature was on Communities, a reoccurring theme throughout RFDs history and one of the motivating factors for its

^SSOES 4s - 62 formation. Two of the articles for the feature were submitted by current members of the Short Mountain Collective. In "Creating the New Clear Family". Plum Nelly (a.k.a. Gabby Haze) talks about his role as an alternative parent, raising children as a gay man with his lesbian spouse. "The children are more unhappy that we do not have a TV than by the fact that Dad may wear a house dress." His conclusions in the article are many. "Having another adult to share it all with is of the utmost importance....!I]t is necessary to have a solid, mature working relationship with your partner.... |B|esides being very rewarding on a personal level, it is lots of fun. Don't let the "conventional wisdom" stop you . . . (from) leading the kind of life you find rewarding." Stevie (a.k.a. Stv) writes in "Livin' in a Community" about his experiences as a member of Short Mountain Sanctuary. "Living in a community is like being in a primary relationship: it's not always easy but the rewards are worth it. Many people fear that by living in a group they will lose their individuality. One learns to balance the self wdth what's best for the common good. One of the greatest joys for me about living in community is the awareness that we are creating a society or culture that meets OUR needs. "The greatest gift for me that has come from living in a community is a stronger sense of my Self. By getting constant feedback about who I am... I was able to change the aspects of my self that I didn't like. If any of ou have thought about living in a community encourage you to try it.... It's an opportunity for growth; make the most of it." Joseph Salack writes in "At Home At Last" about ways in which people who have a desire to move to the country but don't have the resources can do it. "To get the finances together to rent or buy land and shelter in the country, plus outfit yourself with tools and a vehicle, is not within the financial grasp of most of us. To say nothing of the requisite skill, ambition and fortitude to make the shift from urban living to rural homesteading. And so, to reside in a community could be a step on the way." Other articles run the gamut from "Butch Points" by Raphael Sabatini. wherein he decries. "Butchness—what is it? It is the manifestation of all the physical,, mental, sexual, visual, nonverbal, and masculine aspects of the Marlboro Man (except for the smoking of tobacco, of course)." to Skip Ward offering an historical perspective of gmwing up gay in "Growing Old Creatively." "|D|uring my high school years in mid depression 1930’s, boy-and-boy sexual activity was more or less common practice. No name was given to this recreation. Homosexuality as an entity did not exist. To jack-off, play peters, or comhole was about the extent of our same-sex vocabulary....At that time I was never made to feel different, nor was I ever made to feel dirty."

The third issue in RFDs thirteenth year was chocked full of a wide variety of articles. In the News section, an announcement appeared men tioning the purchase by Nomenus ( a west coast group of Radical Faeries) of the Creekland property in Wolf Creek. Oregon, thus forming the second Fairy Sanctuary. A humorous piece introduces RFD readers to The Monks, Michael Lane and James Crotty, two gay men traveling around the country in a Ford van and writing about their exper-iences on the road.

A very informative book review by J. Michael Clark, Ph.D. on Walter William's book The Spirit and the Flesh offers up some food for thought for gay people and their role as "OTHERS" or third gender males. Some of his observations include: Because causality rests with the spirits, the berdache are not held personally accountable for their difference. There is no low self-esteem, no suppression of one's non-masculine qualities, and no pressure to conform. The absence of pressure to choose between opposites of masculinity and femininity and an egalitarian appreciation of all gender roles enabled the berdache to embody the status of a "third gender"....Truly claiming the berdaches for gay history can restore an appreciation of androgyny to gay identity. Being gay should be more of a third gender existential standpoint, with a unique perspective and sensibility.... We need, instead, to establish our rootedness in history by reclaiming our historic sacred destiny, between the gender opposites. Williams does insist that the berdaches are traditionally far more androgynous, spiritual, and communally/culturally interconnected than urbanized and ghettoized gay men tend to be. While we have liberated ourselves sexually, we have neglected our spiritual dimension[s]. We need to broaden and deepen our self-understandings of what being gay means and of what having an all-encompassing gay character means. It will not be an easy task to relinquish our narrow, assimilationist self-categorization as merely sexually different. We are called to move instead toward an integration and celebration of human diversity. We need to reclaim and nurture our spiritual aspects, to embrace and embody our myth-laden, third gender uniqueness-asgift, and to stand between masculinity and femininity, sacred and profane. It is mv sense from William's text that only through such a spiritual renewal will the energies be released among gay people for genuine justice-making and liberation seeking in the world.

An interview with the host of Timberfell Lodge, a gay bed-and-breakfast playground, offers up some ways that gays who want to live in the country can make a go of it. "Why I Pander" by Mike Shearer offers some humorous insight into why masturbation should be exalted. "Done correctly—that is. with imagination and abandon—masturbation smoothes out personalities. ...masturbation has enriched our lives and given us whatever mental health we have... It is an art. closest among the 'accepted' arts to ballet..." Once again the issue of intergenerational sex appears in the pages of RFD. In "Molesting the Molested,” Karl Ahlers, brings out the point of how easy it is to convict men of the crime of "molesting" minors not on facts but on emotionalism and sensationalized yellow journalism. One observation he makes is, "A person has only to be arrested for "molesting" a minor (not necessarily convicted|to have his life ruined emotionally, physically and financially.” What seemed most notable were five articles dealing with different aspects of AIDS. While AIDS had been around for seven years in 1987, as observed in Billy Russo's article "The Third Stage of the AIDS Epidemic" he noted that AIDS had moved from the big cities like New York and Miami (first stage) to Boise and Portland (second stage) and now had reached the countryside, in that people in rural areas were being affected by HIV. In another article Doctor Pat Browder, the Health editor, mentioned there were only two options medically for people with AIDS: AZT and Ribaviran. To this day, 7 years later and fourteen years into the epidemic, there is still no cure or effective life-extending treatment (which both pisses me off and makes me scared). Two articles continue to speak to the otherness of gay people. Bradley Rose in "Of Intermediate Concern" exposes us to the history of Traditional Societies and their unique spiritualities, bringing us into the modem world and some of the problems we face -namely, needing to stabilize our growth in order to regain our balance. Here are some of his observations: In traditional societies, the origin myth supplies the model for behavior. People act in such-and-such a way because "thus did our ancestors." The models of acceptable behavior are remembered, recited, and ritually re-enacted according to the society's sacred myths.

We. on the other hand, are a Modem society precisely because we are breaking free of our former traditions..., Our breaking away from tradition is currently the major feature of our culture. We are modem because novelty everyday invades our culture....We have grown in ways which cannot be undone, except through calamity. But we have lost our former Balance. In our hand we hold the awesome and horrible power — which no traditional society has gripped — to destroy all Humankind. Where Modem society is most imbalanced is in its knowledge of itself. By trying to conceal from itself wliai it may fear to know, our society is greatly endangered and excruciatingly tender. What we fear to know is that we can never satisfy our curiosity because every discovery discloses more that we don't know. What we also fear to know is that the discontinuities we have for too long perceived between us and the rest of the world, between myth and reality, between the real and the imagined, between the conscious and the unconscious, are obsolete. How- can we be made to understand that our wonderful curiosity may outdistance our ability to understand the dangers involved? Bradley concludes that the persecution and misunderstanding of the Intermediate Type has much relevance to the spiritual imbalance of Modem Man." He calls for us to "continue to meet and work, to invent and imagine solutions to the Spiritual Problems of Modem Man." In "Gay Myth: Reflections on Male Homosexuality in Mythology," J. Michael Clark, Ph.D, leads us through an historical analysis of mythology as pertaining to gay people, relating that mythology to some of our modem gay institutions and modes of behavior. He talks about the Mother archetype which corresponds to the anima — internalized in gay men as wisdom, nurturance, insight and sensitivity. He makes these observations about being gay: "The archetypically gay is, above all, one of whom balance is demanded. He is a tightrope walker, forced to live between and connected to both poles. He must balance maternal unconsciousness and self-consciousness, youth and maturity, nightworld a-morality and dayworld morality, masculinity and femininity.... His is a polytheism of sexuality. As a balancer he must seek integration through a chaos of options and a richness of experience."

D a v id W. P r i c e

In Issue #51, Ron Lambe talks about what is uniquely RFD in "The Inside Story". As I look back over the past seven years of working with and publishing this journal, I am impressed with the interplay of push and flow. I have tried very hard to respect the difference, but of course, being human, I have not always succeeded.... The trick is knowing what needs support and what is resisting for good reason, this rather unassertive approach is often misunderstood by people new to RFD....There are a small number of publications which function on a cooperative basis, and we are one of them. We have no reporters, we can't afford to pay for contributions, our editorial staff is volunteer, and the office staff is supported only minimally....And yet, it works. I feel that it is part of our self-reliance that we don't feel a need to prove ourselves to anybody else--just ourselves. We are a forum for ideas and a reflection of our community. If what we publish is a bit chaotic or unfocused, that may well be because we are reflecting what is happening (in the world]. A reoccurring theme in this issue involves several articles dealing with acceptance both of the self and each other. "Cutting Through Denial," by Ed Schrieber, M.Ed., offers a Buddhist's look at alcohol and drug addiction. He suggests why we as gay people seem to have a greater problem with addiction. :"The Buddhist principle of impermanence can be applied to our relationships, emotional states and activities. With each we can recognize the process of beginning, developing, breaking apart, and ending." He notes that society has the same process, which he observes is in the stage of breaking down. "The system of American society would peak in its capacity to meet the needs of all of its people, and once it has moved beyond that point, it will begin a period of destabilization and decay marked by the exclusion and the elimination of some of its members. We, along with people of color, are in the forefront of the social; anger and blame, the aggression of a society that has grown more conservative, more invested in moving backward to hold onto itself as it once was. He goes on to say, "This then sheds new light on the problem and the treatment of addiction and dependency. Addiction and dependency, on one level, can be understood as a means by which to live with the growing troubles around us Further, it can be seen and treated as one way to reduce the impact and the pain that comes from a recognition that our existence and the existence of others is fundamentally and finally impermanent in a world that is in tremendous change.'

In Justin De Mello's article "Teachers of Tolerance", he carries on the theme of acceptance. He concludes that it is important for gay people to accept more, to appreciate the diversity of one another. "Tolerance. We must accept ourselves, our community, our sick. We must accept the terrified millions that do not understand us. Because the only way they are going to accept us is through us accepting ourselves." One of the clearest and most informative articles pertinent to RFD readers appears under the title "The Uncoupled Male", written by Christopher M. Wright. In this he deals with the question of whether to be in a couple or not. Drawing from the book The Male Couple, by D McWherter, MD. and A Mattison, M.S.W., Ph.D., he guides us through the gay male relationship, from Motivation for being in a relationship, dealing with Sexual Adventure and Chances for a Successful Relationship. After reviewing these, he makes his Case For Remaining Independent, and then draws some conclusions. Here are a few of his insights. The male couple is not all that it's cracked up to be. It's right for some people but it might not be right for you. The purpose of this article is to get you to think about something which may not even have occurred to you is an issue—whether or not having a lover is right for you. The two biggest problems that plague the male couple are boredom and the disruption that can accompany sexual adventuring. They stem from the very nature of the male couple. MOTIVATION Why do you want a lover in the first place? There are many different reasons for wanting a lover and not all of them are good. Romance—You are in love. Natural attraction, warm feelings, affection. Love—Characterized primarily by a care and concern for the other and for their happiness and well-being. Security—Something to hang onto. Someone who will always "be there" for you. A structured and safe environment. I Should Be in a Couple— Something is wrong with them if they are not in a couple. "1 Need It"—There are some people who need an emotional rescue. They are lovestarved and want someone to fill up their cup. Experimentation—They have experienced life on their own and now they want to experience something different. Fear of AIDS—Some people get or keep lovers because they live in fear of AIDS. Conclusion—Only one acceptable motive for having a lover—you have the kind of selfless love for another and he has it for you.

SEXUAL ADVENTURE If you want to be part of a male couple, the odds are overwhelming that you are signing up to be in an open relationship. Outside sex can and does take many forms. You and your partner can expea to have one night stands, sexual friends of longer standing and even new armances. Socializing with gay people, therefore, presents a problem. Every single social situation is fraught with the possibility that you or your lover will be seized with an erotic attraction for another. Since outside sex is a reality, couples typically adopt rules to manage the disruption it can cause. "Jealousy is an enemy of the relationship at every stage. It never seems to disappear completely" (the authors). For the couple to stay together, they distinguish between sexual exclusivity and relationship fidelity. When the partner comes home after playtime outside sex becomes irrelevant. The author concludes with "the idea of an uncommitted relationship, somewhere between having a fuckbuddy and a lover....Its central distinguishing feature is the intentional absence of a commitment. Being uncommitted means that we will not; live together, promise to love each other, promise sexual exclusivity, have commitments to the future." The uncommitted relationship is an alternative for those who feel trapped, stifled or fatigued in a male couple. I would like to add that this is a quite comprehensive article (eight pages) so I was able to capture only a bit of what the author was trying to relate. If you are interested in the complete article, send for the back issue, or enclose a legal size SASE and a dollar and I will send you a copy. Send to Stv, c/o RFD. All but one of the issues in this year were quite lengthy. I was reminded once again of the uniqueness of the Radical Faerie perspective, bringing spirituality more to the front of being gay. That of the "other" or "third gender" was very apparent time and time again in the articles printed. One other notable observation was the inclusion of numerous reprinted articles. This may have come from a desire to include more diverse material than what is traditionally submitted to the magazine. There were also quite a number of long scholarly articles that went into great detail. This was made possible by publishing larger issues.

Issue #52, Fall, '87, was our largest ever, a hefty 104 pages. The editor's column announced that a comprehensive index of RFI7s first 13 years was nearing completion and would soon be available. Writing prior to the historic Second March on Washington, Ron wrote:

C arlos

A Kll) DIES, OR A GROWN-UP

Dies and is really gone. The one you loved close... not there anymore, minute by minute, all year, all years. A fond friend dies, and you learn then how much love there was. Or one at the center of a life pool, making many love flows easy, is gone, and much that was good is magically no longer possible. Two deaths like that in a year, and it's a very bad year. A thousand deaths like that in a week, and it's a war. Tell me about American interests. Sometimes we kill her lover and the feel of his spine under her hand and the feel of his hand running down her rib cage and rounding her buttocks and reaching between her legs to quiver her hair before touching her wetness ourselves, and sometimes we hire it done. Sometimes the bomb that removes one and a half of the legs of her child who just learned to walk comes from the plane that says U.S. on the side and sometimes we just paid for it from too far away to hear the child screaming so loudly and intensely that it seems to her, who can't help hugging him though that may hurt him more, that he may scream himself to death, choking before his heart dies of having no more blood to pump. Sometimes we obliterate 75% of the people he ever loved from the face of the Earth because the President needs to be re-elected and we need to think about how to get new school clothes for the kids and whether the car will last the winter, and sometimes we destroy every person, place, and thing he ever cared for because we sincerely believe he needs our help getting democracy. Then we forget. Years later we briefly notice what’s left of the country, of the group of families and friends and neighborhoods where we once bought many murders. We say, "They are not being good. They are not being killed. They are not being logical. We don’t know why. At least we tried to help."

My experience is that the real value of such an event is to charge up the participants and give them courage and enthusiasm to continue the long and arduous (and unglamorous) task of living the revolution daily. Not a bad prognostication, considering that some of the most enduring legacies of that mass event proved to be the coalescing of the political action groups ACT UP and Queer Nation. "What the Hell is a Radical Fairy Anyway?" has been a recurrent question ever since the first gatherings at the start of the '80's. In his article by that name. Laughing Otter recalled that an unofficial consensual definition from those times was "one who is pursuing the path of gay enspiritment —developing the spirituality of being gay." He goes on to state: "The first and most essential step on the path of gay enspiritment was to discover (i.e. define) who we are for ourselves - precisely what modem fairies refuse to do." Otter observed that this definition was later superseded by "anyone who's attended one gathering." This vagueness, he maintained, along with the often-heard, "Ask 100 fairies and you'll get 100 answers" displays a casualness about concepts that results in a watered down movement, with "fairies behaving no differently from mainstream gay men, aping all the hetero behaviors that early radical fairies so vigorously rejected -- male chauvinism, sexual exploitation, apeckingorder based on physical beauty, etc." He asks his contemporaries whether the issue of "finding out who we are is still relevant in the late 1980's, or if we just got tired of talking about it." These issues still swirl about us at current gatherings and continue to deserve our attention. Joseph Kramer, in his article "Step Away from Fantasy," suggests that we tear out pages 129133 of The Joy o f Gay Sex (which he finds totally wrongheaded) and substitute for them our own experiences. "Masturbation is a highly pleasurable form of self-massage . . . often more enjoyable when the attention is on body feelings rather than Walter Mitty mind sex," he explains. In a companion piece he goes on to present techniques of "Enhancing and Prolonging Orgasm," summarizing in just three pages the Body Electric course work he developed. "Love and Intimacy" by Julian Spalding attempts to erode the myth (cultural lie) that "intimacy can only

1 don't know how they live pain in their culture. I don't know how they keep going with such overloaded hearts, but somewhere in their hearts, there is nothing to do but cry. As to what we can do when we wake up to what we have done, I don't know. BY ANNE HERBERT

happen in a sexual context." He encourages us to honor our true feelings in each moment, to go beyond programmed modes of behavior and act out of true responsibility. "When love is flowing," he says, "it does not care to whom it flows." The article goes on to explore healing the male heart through love and self acceptance. The teature of Issue #52 had the working title "The Global Brain" and branched out into highly metaphysical dimensions. Raphael Sabatini took us along to one of Shirley MacLain's seminars in his piece, "A Search for my Higher Self." He describes his previous spiritual experience as "attending Episcopal mass on Sundays, but more for the theatre than the theology." Incredulous at first, he responded to Ms. MacLain's request to stop taking notes and let the right brain feel. He goes on to describe the trips his higher self took thauighout the subsequent sessions. "I realized I had put myself there: not Shirley, not the music, not the room. I put myselt there and I knew how to get there whenever I felt the need or the desire." The chief segment of the feature is an essay entitled "Art by the late Dwight Dunaway, then an RFD staff- member. writing under his fairy name. Light. It is a broad, expansive piece which can easily carry the willing reader along in its transcendent groove. Like Laughing Otter, he begins with the observation that more-recent fairy gatherings feel different. The thrill of the seminal gatherings is gone (this is the most prominent discouraging word I hear). The feeling of specialness, of newness and wonder, major strides in liberation of the body politic and the spirit body, have slipped out the back door unnoticed, leaving us wondering and wandering. Is this really true? Maybe we’re just undergoing change. Light encourages us to openly embrace change, to allow "old defenses, games, roleplay (to be| washed away, replaced at first with other roles . . . (cross-dressing, pagan/faerie/druid, etc.)" He tells us we are striving to become "trueself adults," individuals who "check their own integrity and operate from an intuitive, loving source." As I enable myself to be open and allow others their defenses without taking them personally, I am finding that basic unenculturated humanness is far more simple than I ever expected. I find that I am even transcending gayness/homosexuality/faerie. Change is a constant that keeps us from the trap of rigidity. It is important that we never solidify into a dogmatic religion. There is no faerie way.

The article, by John S. James, publisher of A IDS Treatment News. reported experiences from unofficial trials which had occurred only months before publication. Thus RFD was serving as a public information conduit for what the author described as "an underground, grass-roots circuit of rational AIDS/ARC treatments." Readers who chose to try the formula were told, "You can help others and yourself by keeping a record of your experience -- doses, dates, and any resulting effects," and a phone number was provided to facilitate feedback.

Certain people are drawn to faerie gatherings because of a certain propensity toward life. Let that be the only manifesto we create. . . . Any dogma/ manifesto/national creed is exclusive and will trample on somebody's truth. We must remain open to everyone’s truth, if for mi other reason than there are so few people that are. The familiar complaint of disappointment w'ith ritual(s) can stem from slavishly sticking with outmoded primal forms, he suggests. If we can trust that form always emerges out of chaos, then we can move through our fear and emerge into a new "spontaneous order," a healing state of extreme capability and power.

■*iqh 'V ’f ‘. f , handv ovt in 6 gesture or trep ida tio n, .m a'ts his posession tiy the Shekinah

The way to do this, Light contends, is to remain securely anchored in love for one another, . . the experience of a wild, amplified love, not filtered through emotional bond or need or security." And the second half of his ten-page essay becomes a kind of practical guidebook to achieving that experience, a missal of transformational love.

The Winter, ’87-’88 Issue, #53, was titled teaching Far-away Darlings and featured sixteen pages of personal dispatches from twelve separate and diverse countries, including Yugoslavia, Japan, Soviet Russia, Kenya and even the island of Guam. Edward Frey gave us a pleasant personal view of living as a foreigner in Tokyo. Shelly Anderson shared hir excitement at the dedication of Amsterdam's monument (the world's first) to gays and lesbians who died in Nazi camps.

Ask . . . for your desire/thought/want -making sure you are asking for the simplest, most basic form . . . (If you are lacking Love, ask for Love, not a lover.) If love is just an emotion or an abstract concept or something that takes a lot of work for you, ask for experience of it.

There was news of a nascent homosexual movement in Poland, and an account of a gay men's week at Laurieston Hall in Scotland, a 100+ acre community of 28 souls who, it appears, live a rustic life similar to that at Short Mountain, albeit with the addition of a large mansion on the grounds. Peculiarly anachronistic among these contemporary accounts was an extract from the "Terminal Essay" of Sir Richard Burton's translation of Arabian Nights, describing the indomitable pederastic spirit in 19th-century France. Could we not find a current correspondent in Paris?!

He admits to but defends this section's more hyperbolic, channeling-style language and the vivid transcendent scenes he describes. "These are not metaphors, they are descrip-tions of actual experience! Yes, I was at a gathering and no, I was not on psychedelics. I was in Love." And while, on the surface, much of this content can appear as cosmic babble, the careful, patient reader will discover that it is resonant w'ith truth and delivers a profoundly basic message, always a benchmark of solid philosophies.

’ ransform ation com plete: The i!tqii P r ie s t ( e s s ) .

Also in Issue #52, Alvin Landy gave us "Coming Out Late," the sort of rare and valuable personal testament of which we can never have enough. In intelligent, accessible rose, the then 76-year-old author explains ow and why he came out at age 65 after a lifetime in the closet. His depictions of the double life he led are enlightened by a mature feminist analysis. All these men (and I include myself here) were fixed in situations which were primarily heterosexual. We had maintained the closet so that we could proclaim to the world that we were "masculine.". . . And as long as we did so, we helped to sustain the myth that there is a real separation between the sexes. . . . Why did I continue to feel the threat of "doing something female?" Could it be -as 1 have asked myself recently —that the oppression of the gay man, as I knew it, was in some manner a reflection of that larger oppression of women?

v 2

3 c |

The Health column for Fall, ’87 was a reprint from AIDS Treatment News that offered detailed information on AL 721, an experimental AIDS treatment derived from egg yolks. Due to lack of interest from official AIDS researchers and commercial manufacturers, home experimenters were beginning to fill the gap by developing a home formula of lecithin, butter and water which closely approximated the commercially unavailable product.

Most of these short articles were reprinted fa>m various regional U. S.. gay newspapers and, while providing a bit of international flavor to the issue, were frustratingly lacking in specific substance about gay life. Indeed, "Searching for Sisters in the USSR" pointed out just how difficult it can be to obtain such information in some parts of the world. A delicious highlight of Issue #53 is a lengthy interview with distinguished composer Lou Harrison and his companion William Colvig. Harrison places himself in the venerable bucolic/pastoral tradition, both musically and in his general philosophy. He's very emphatic and not at all romantically optimistic about that historical dynamic. Harrison: It lies absolutely outside the professional razzamataz. In that razzamataz we can no longer afford one another. And I think it's important to emphasize, and RFD is the place to do it, that there is an alternative tradition, that the polis, the city, the metropolis and all of its works which turn out to be the mushroom cloud, are not the one tradition. That within Western civilization we have had another tradition which has considered even more important things. . . . Stuart Norman | interviewer]: Is that a spiritual viewpoint for you? Harrison: No. It’s a philosophic one in the sense that what possible optimism I might have comes from some vague hope that anything will be left, but I really don't believe it. I think we're going to hell in a handbasket. A trip around the world is terribly discouraging.

Reader, requesting that anthology to cease reprinting articles from MEN until tne policy was repealed (Recent inquiry reveals that MEN no longer discriminates in this manner.) Rounding out the Winter issue is a somewhat esoteric, but hilarious historical analysis. The Search for Sodom & Gomorrah," ostensibly translated from ancient texts by Jacob Rabinowitz and Hakim Bey It calls for the restoration of the Cities of the Plain to their rightful heirs, creating a "homeland for homos." It was a beautiful country, once. And it was ours. "How well watered the plain of Jordan was! All the way to Zoar it was like the Garden of the Lord." - Gen 13:6. And then, according to the Bible, God rained fire and brimstone on the cities because one of his 'angels' was cruised on the streets of Sodom. But, may we ask. WHO IS MISS JEHOVAH'?! The diaspora must now end! We want our homeland back! NEVER AGAIN. Mary!

At the same time, Harrison is not totally discouraged. The techne (technology| has provided us, as everyone knows with the means of ending the planet, as far as life goes. The techne is there, whereas it never was before. . . . Well. I keep pointing out that the techne doesn't necessarily inhibit. For example, the United States was majestically defeated in Vietnam by the bicycle. It had thousands of atom bombs and could have destroyed the planet at a moment’s notice, but it was defeated by the bicycle, technically. Harrison's iconoclastic nature surfaces throughout these twelve pages. When the interviewer commiserates with the composer by describing the world situation as "insanity," he rebuts: No. I've been insane. It isn't insanity. Insane people are fairly quiet and tender people. It’s the aggressive, wide-awake, can-do people. . . . |T|hey're going to press the button sooner or later. What you have to have is pessimists. So if so-and-so needs to be assassinated, they’ll say, "Well. I can't do it. First, I can't keep a secret, and second, the gun will jam or the poison won't work. " -- something like this. This is what we need more of - good first-class pessimists. This interview with intelligent, independent thinkers was one of the most stimulating and accessible articles of that year's entire volume, and we'd do well to solicit more like it today. Also in this issue, a feature on Fey Arts offered a sampling of poems from five Black gay men whose work comprises the collection, Tongues Untied, from Gay Men's Press in London. Three of the poets, Assotto Saint, Craig Harris and Essex Hemphill, had previously appeared in RFD, and David Cima's dramatic photo of Hemphill holding a glowing orb appeared on the cover. And with what might be almost humorous persistence were it not so homophobic. Mother Earth News continued its 13-year-old policy of excluding any mention of gayness from its pages. When Herman Strumpfs contact letter was refused, reminiscent of the rejection of RFD ads going back to 1974, he creatively responded by writing the editor of Utne

No matter that some of these sites are de scribed as resting at the bottom of the Dead Sea. "Our demands should include the ancient boundaries (as an autonomous enclave within the Israeli state) and. by way of reparations, one luxury’ hotel -- in the shape of a ziggurat -with sauna.. Discos on the IX^ad Sea!" Through dubious hermeneutics, the authors explain how Hebrew priests could change sex at will and that "It is believed |to be| with Sodomic emphasis that Jesus addressed his disciples as 'the salt of the earth.'" Readers who anxiously await each issue of RFD (and we're told there are a few) waited in vain during the Spring of '88. When the combined Spring/Summer Issue #54 finally arrix^ed months later, it brought an explanation.Editor and Chief DemiUrge. Ron Lambe. had relocated to Ashville. NC. where his work with an environmental group had become a full-time job; Running Water farm was more-and-more developing into a retreat center lacking physical space for RFD production; and the magazine's finances were in serious disarray. (The" financial statement shows that expenses of $30,241 outstripped income by about $700. Amidst "all this distractive activity," Ron reassured subscribers that RFD would survive "even if we have to print it on toilet paper.” Short of such a drastic measure, he projected deep budget cuts, elimination of staff salaries (small as they were) and a plea for emergency loans, all of which might still leave the magazine owing over $4000 by year's end. And he regrettably gave voice to the notion that "It may be time for it to move elsewhere." While not as fat, at 72 pages, as some previous issues, #54 held some quality material. Jim Long contributed highly practical information on maintaining herb gardens, Hakim Bey returned with a wry short story. "Blue Vespers," and B<»ok reviews covered Vito Russo's revised The Celluloid Closet, The Spirit and The Flesh, Walter Williams' study of Native American berdache traditions, Randy Shi Its' AIDS account And the Band Played On. and Arthur

1'cans' historical analysis of the Dionysian myth. The God o f Ecstasy.

The feature, entitled Righteously Functional Drag, was produced by the Short Mountain ettes In "The Heartache of Drag.” Plum Nelly (the semi-ubiquitous Gabby Ha/e) laments the endless search, the lack of closet space, the endless decisions over what to wear, and the trauma of having to get rid of old favorites. J Golsan is a bit more serious in "Functional Drag." emphasizing the self-assurance and empow erment that cross-gender dressing can evoke. Treona B. Bitchy's "TIRADE" upbraids assimilationists and other PC's who find drag offensive; Raphael Sabatini. the innately proper Dutchess of Columbia, firmly reprimands his fairy brothers for failing to wear gloves whenever they venture out of doors, and finally . Terry Levelsmier answers the question "Why Aren't Lesbians Pretty?" by explaining what might be thought self-evident, viz.: "Lesbians aren't trying to attract straight men or women —only other lesbians."

RFD

Once there, we began working with a woman who showed us how to match up the pages for folding and cutting. We had just come to pages 16 and 49. when there was this sudden stillness in the room. 1 looked down from this woman’s' face to the RFD open on the desk. There it was: an article about circumcision or uncircumcision called "The Cut And The Uncut"

co m es to

Short Mountain Strange how sometimes things just come together. Those of us from the Short Mountain Community who drove to Running Water for the 1988 Summer Solstice (10th Anniversary) gathering had no idea that we would be given the opportunity to take over the stewardship and publication of RFD. We knew from reading issue #53 that space was tight and money was short. Then the Spring issue didn't come for a long time, and when it did there was news that Ron l^ambe had moved to Asheville, N.C., that RFD owed lots of money to the printers, and needed to pay back the many personal loans individuals had made to help keep it afloat. Because this was the 10th Anniversary gathering, there were many old friends from faraway places all coming to rejoice in each other's company and to help celebrate the beauty that these past ten years of gatherings at RunWah had brought to so many of our One of the circles we had was on RFD and its future. It was at this point that the Short Mountain Community volunteered to move RFD to Tennessee and take responsibility for its continued publication. Of course there is a lot more dish to the story, but that will have to wait for the forthcoming book! When we left Running Water that Sunday, we took with us the unfinished galleys of issue #55 which was due out in a little over two months. Oh Dear! What next? As it turns out the biggest problem we had was finding a printer. We went to several area book publishers and printers. Every time they saw the RFD we were using as an example they would say, "Sorry, we can't (or won’t) print this type of publication." We finally found a small-town newspaper publisher who talked about censorship and freedom of the press and wasn't turned off by the magazine itself. We didn't have too much "hands on” work to do with this issue as most of the layout had been done at Running Water before we took over. After a few more weeks, we carried the finished Issue #55 to the printer.

The next biggest problem was setting up a second class mailing permit. All the local post offices were far too small to handle such a large job. not to mention the fact that we were not eager to show the local postlady a copy of the magazine, which is one of the requirements for second class status. Dealing with the central post office in Nashville (about 60 miles away from Short Mountain) was a bureaucratic drag, but we finally got our mailing permit.

Our next biggest problem was financial. Not only did we take over the publication of RFD, we took over its debts, which amounted to over $6,000. We told of our financial situation through "The Inside Story" (now "Between The Lines") and featured the following graphic throughout the magazine

With studies in Africa and else where showing that uncircumcised men who otherwise don't take pre cautions are more apt to develop AIDS and other venereal diseases, interest in to cut or not to cut the ponis is again of interest.

But where there is no graphic on that page as finally printed, there were these great graphics of these fabulous cocks with and without foreskins. As everything came back into focus and time began to move again, I somehow sensed a difference; but in what I wasn't sure. We quickly finished the rest of our work, and I left, uncertain of what it all meant. Well, the publisher called early the next morning to ask us to come in and talk. The talk was "NO GO!". Too many of his employees objected to those cut and uncut "things". Talk about ill feelings! There we were, almost up to the mailing deadline, and suddenly we had no printer, notwithstanding his rap about press freedom. Indeed! It was then that we decided to go out of state and look for a printer in Atlanta. We were recommended to the people who printed Etcetera magazine. They had no problems with hardons or any other aspect of RFD. We worked with this printer until they went out of business a few years later. We now work with these two cute guys who own Flemming Color Service in Atlanta. They are responsible for the fine printing job which helps make RFD look so good these days.

And you, our readers and friends, responded with many donations, renewed subscriptions and good wishes. We were able to pay back the old printer within that first year-and-a-half and were well on our way to repaying those loans that some close friends had made to RFD in the past.

In the first issue of RFD we published, the feature was on music: Rondos, Fortissimos, Diminuendos. There was a review of Ron Lambe's collaboration with Heartsinger on the cassette" Songs of Love and Nature", which Ron advises are no longer available. There was an article on the First Northwoods Faerie Gathering by Bluejay as well as F o n ’s Final Discourse.

It seemed that no sooner did we get Issue #55 in the mail than Issue #56 was due. This would be our first complete RFD. We would have to do it all from cover to cover. And w ith what? And where? There was no RFD office. There wasn't really an RFD space as yet!

As we moved to the Spring. '89 RFD #57. we were beginning to feel more at home with the business of creating and publishing a quarterly journal. The feature for Issue #57 w as done by a group of friends in New Mexico and was called Rebirth From the Desert. It gave a unique perspective on Gay spirituality as seen through their eyes.

Thankfully, there was so much creative imagination among us that we quickly found ourselves holding layout parties in the kitchen, the wood stove cooking away (this was the Winter issue we were working on). The spirit was high and the process of putting together this first RFD at Short Mountain worked very well.

There was also an article and several photos of "The Shawl".

As we had creative license with this issue we put together the first RFD phone sex ad.

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We also began our long friendship and association with the photography of Mark Skinner whose "Lucid Dream States" have graced our pages over these few years.

For those of you new to R F D , the shawl was crocheted by Denis Melba'son in 1979 and presented to the faeries at the 1980 Colorado Radical Faerie Gathering. Denis died in 1982. The shaw l has been worn by many of us during circle times and has become a special object of affection. It is now' kept by the Wolf Creek and Short Mountain Sanctuaries and taken out and displayed at Faerie Gatherings. Issue #57 also saw us back on a track to publish four times a year, to correspond with the Solstice and Equinox dates. With the Summer Issue #58, we were coming into our own. Reams of Fiction Dispatched gave us a chance to publish lots of the great fiction people had been sending in. We have always had the luxury of having much more material than we could ever use. The hardest thing is how to decide what to use. Especially notable in Issue #58 were " The States of Curtis Lamar" by Burt Washington and "Ephrem" by Joe Malone.

Another first for Issue #56 was the beginning of "Out With The Hillbillies" by Terry Delemont, which ran for a number of issues. I'm sure that the old "Rocky Top Hillbilly" still has some fans out there in RFD fairyland.

We also published "Molested" by Jack Davis, which created an avalanche of feedback about NAMBLA, still a hot topic these days.

We also ran the NAMBLA ad. which hadn't been seen in several issues. The lunar calendar was revived by Moonhawk, and Stewart Norman stepped down as our Political Editor. We also decided to bring back the original RFD T-shirt to use as a fund-raiser. We now have the 20th Anniversary T-shirts, and when those are sold out. we hope to bring that old standard back. And, of course, we were still asking for donations to help us get out of debt!

That issue also saw the first ad for the RFD "TTear Love of Comrades” calendar. All in all. the first year of RFD under the collective responsibility of Short Mountain Sanctuary brought us great satisfactions and rewards.

was a blend o f real history and wacky commentary that entertained everyone who cam e through. The Judy Garland funeral procession was joined by people from the streets w hile our police escort allowed us to redirect them so that we would have a more public route that the one we had arranged. And by the last Sunday , the proctors of the parade may not have appreciated our tactic of stopping and running so that our wings would flap in the wind, but the crowd adored us. For a short time we went from being a secretive fringe group that had our gatherings in remote places to being stars of the gay media. It was a brief but heady experience. Issue ft 59. "'Riotous Fags Descend" highlighted the twentieth anniversary o f the S ton ew all Riots and the Faerie A ction Gathering that was held to commem orate it. The feature had four selections: a journalistic poem by Bird / D a v i d B i r m a n , the transcription o f the speech Harry Hay gave in Central Park, a photo collection centerfold, and an article by a Village Voice columnist inspired by what he saw of the faeries in the various events o f that June. The Fairy Action Gathering was one o f the most ambitious projects the Radical Faeries (or at least the Northeastern branch) have ever taken on as a group.

It started w ith a five-day gathering held just south o f Ithaca, New York, fo llo w ed by numerous public events in N ew York City. These included a night o f performance, a ritual in Central Park, a Judy Garland memorial funeral procession (complete w ith a c a s k e t , a s o u n d t r a c k , h a n d o u t s for passersby, and a police escort), a re-enacting o f the Stonew all Riots with foam-rubber bricks, a procession to Central Park w here Harry Hay gave a enthusiastically-received speech, a hastily erected m useum o f gay liberation set up in the space that had held the Stonewall Bar in 1969. and a large, colorful and often uncontrollable contingent in the Gay IJay Parade.

The tw o w e e k s o f e v en ts provided one challenge after another. The gathering started w ith a h u ge thunderstorm that forced everyone inside, leaving one room with eighteen people in it. Two nights later, a tent burned dow n to the ground pan ick in g e v er y o n e . Circles wrestled with how to reconcile the vision o f Faeries as outlaws and challengers o f the status quo with concerns about safety in New York City. The former Stonewall Bar turned out to be a flooded basement that had to be transformed in a

matter o f hours. Painting foam rubber bricks proved to be a time consu m ing process and the paint still wasn't dry when they were handed out to the crowd. The batteries in the boom box under Judy Garland's "casket" had to be changed several times in the course o f our procession. And our theater-piece o f a riot turned into a real one when people who attended decid ed to march up S e v e n th A venu e and block traffic and eventually paraded to the police station to protest police indifference to gay-related hate crimes.

But everything came off better than expected. The museum that was set up in the Stonewall

T h e r e w e re s o m e notable fiction p ie ce s in this issu e, too. “T h e StudentTeacher Relationship" by Robert Patrick was an im pressive work for a country journal. “Land o f the Red Buffalo" by Brian Mexicott was especially warmly received. One reader reported “ bawlin' my e y e s out from the pow erful m e ssage and poignant w ay o f putting it across." The sp irituality se c tio n had two strong pieces. “Remembrance o f Things" by Stanley Gail Johnson described the act of committing sy m b o ls o f different spiritual system s to memory and the surprising step the brain seem s to take on its own o f giving meaning to these sy mbols after they've had a c h a n c e to sit for a w h ile . "The Erotic Sorcerers" by Charles and Cherry Lindholm gave a description o f the valued roles various cultures create for those members w h ose do not fit easily into either male or female sexrole e x p e ctation s. T h e c o n c e p t s o f the berdache, the mahu and the xanith can give us clues in creating a place for ourselves in this culture. "Granite Greeting Cards" by Michael Mason remains especially poignant for those o f us w h o knew him. It told o f M ichael's e x p erien ce c arvin g m em orial st o n e s for friends. Michael, himself, died shortly alter this issue went to press, and his memorial stones along with his recently-refurbished stone steps at Short Mountain are a tribute to a magical craftsman and poet.

Issue #60, “ Re addressing Faerie Doctrines" contained a feature by a circle of Cleveland faeries. Jim Kilonsky presented us with three visionary poems moving in their depiction of the survival of life and imagination even in unpromising situations. Stefan Ripich wrote two articles: "Progress Not Perfection” about the challenges and opportunities for gay people in cities like Cleveland and “Including Pagan Gods” about the lessons to be learned from the non patriarchal gods of the pagans. Jam es Franklin's poem (like Bru Dye's article later in this issue) addressed the awkwardness and eventual success of finding ways to do rituals in the city. Robbi Rhyndress explored his personal jou rn ey in recovering from dysfunctions with honesty, insight and fun graphics. The "Call for Dialogue." like the one in the previous issue and many others before or since, centered on NAMBLA. What distinguished this one was the controversial six-page letter by Night Sky. He discussed his own experiences with “long-term sexually explicit relationships with underage males" and his subsequent regrets. He advocated loving, non-sexual relationships with minors and attacked NAMBLA for minimizing possible consequences for both the adult and the minor who engage in sexual behavior. We still receive letters about this article many years later.

psychic and world traveler. He frequently infuriated people with his unshakable optimism but always charmed them in the end. James truly loved Ins friends and he left those of us who knew him changed forever by the experience.

JA M E S

Also gracing this issue were two very different options for faerie travel. Lee Law rence described his creation of a "discreet, quiet and stress-free retreat where you can nurture both mind and body while escaping the outside world.” On the facing page, D aveen G urleen described the giddiness of the “faerie action shopping spree and terrorist luncheon" held in downtown Minneapolis. So if you want horses and trails or an impromptu fashion show, your needs will be taken care of by enterprising faeries. Issu e # 6 1 , “ R a g in g Foreign Diatribe," contained a feature by a group of Canadian rural gay men. In the Intro, and transcribed Conversation, they talked about the feelings they had about being constantly confronted by American culture and politics w h ile e x p e rie n c in g ig n o ran c e and indifference by Americans about life in Canada.

The Remembrance section centered on three people who were central to our community in many ways. Michael Mason's name has come up repeatedly in this retrospective as an editor and frequent contributor to RFD. Michael was a poet, a stonemason, and a man whose words could cut to the heart of things with deadly accuracy. He could inspire us with his antics, regale us with his often wicked humor, and move us unspeakably when he slowed down enough to talk from his heart. Tryon Kennon was a resident of Short Mountain in the days when three people lived here rather than close to twenty. He was a great story-teller and a force for anarchy in the streets and order in the kitchen. James Lahey was a cook and a

1 think we should make the point that Americans in North America are sort of in the same position as straight men in our society—a little bit “ugly" without meaning to be at all. 1 don’t think they mean to be. But if we explain it that way, or in those terms, RFDers would begin to comprehend the am b iv alen ce of Canadian's feelings about Americans. Because Canadians do have these feelings and do have reasons for feeling them. The feature continued with an offer to facilitate contact among Canadian rural gay men, a recipe for stinging nettle quiche, a sam pling of Canadian hum or, and a collection of anecdotes about bears, seals, otters, ravens, and human visitors to rural Canada. It also contained an article “Radical Faeries: Why So Few of C olor?” that suggested ways of making our community

more accessible to people of non-huropcan ancestry. W hile this article focused specifically on faene spirituality, it opened the door for a more general discussion in the following years on class issues and other impediments to becoming more inclusive. It is a topic that hopefully we w ill continue to explore in the future. In a call for dialogue. Skip Ward raised the issue of whether “we gays, as a class, are ... intellectually, professionally, emotionally, or financially able to support devious criminals and sociopaths. Surely these are not my Brothers Behind Bars." He detailed prisoner's scams and wondered w h eth er RFD d oesn't actually enable heterosexual prisoners to victimize gay men by granting them space in our magazine. He also suggested that our responses to prisoners are based on "residual guilt" rather than a realistic view of the situation. In a view from the other side. Albert J. T. Jones wrote about being gay in prison and the vulnerability of men and boys there to rape, assault, extortion and intim idation. He reminded us that one of the few hopes for improving the situation is for people on the outside to be in com m unication with prisoners and to be able to voice their concerns to others. (See also the article “Stop Prisoner Rape" in this issue.) He also reminded us of the struggle men in prison have to maintain any amount of self-esteem. Another notable article in this issue was Bill of Southern Illinois' “Body Images and Stuff' questioning the practice of looking for a specific physical type in the Contact Letters. “Could we be sending the wrong message to our younger brothers, that only the young and the beautiful are valuable in this lifestyle, and that the rest of us are supposed to just disappear?" He raised important points about our tendency to look for the physical first, with the assumption th a t m ental, em otional and spiritual compatibility is less problematic. This segues nicely into a discussion of the cover. It featured our own lovely James milking the goats. While those of us who know him know that Jam es' inner beauty is the equal of his outer, I have heard from a number of sources that men around the country were willing to propose marriage on the basis of that picture alone. Well, James is getting married in the next month to a man from Philadelphia but will still read any mail addressed to him d o RFD.

Gary P lo u ff's photographs also graced this issue. They are meditative, m ysterious and often accom panied by hieroglyphs, runes or other calligraphy.

attitude" of the leather scene, he also felt something was missing at the other faerie gatherings he had been to.

enriched this community for over ten years and its always a treat to experience the spirituality, eroticism and humor evident in his drawings.

Still, year after year, issues regarding intense, erotic ritua!--of expanding upon our sexual, animal powers— went largely undcalt with. It was as if getting in touch w ith our feminine and feelin g selv es m eant somehow lessening our contact with the physically directed world of the masculine. It is a dilemma often familiar to men who have embraced the world of the New Age; as if the moon must be traded for the sun, rather than bask in the light of each. Michael O 'M ally wrote an article about the goddess chant and finally explained who these seven deities were. Isis. Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, and Inanna are different visions of the Goddess in various cultures and illumine a spirituality that values the harth as a source of nourishm ent, strength, and wisdom. Michael helps us to know these goddesses as specific symbols rather than as a meaningless collection of names. Now if we could only get some African and Hast Asian goddesses in there.... For a particularly wacky American version of the Goddess, the article “Church Ladies for Choice" shows that humor can enliven political action. The article written by Donald Fox aka Hopeless Kase tells how a group of Pittsburgh faeries made both local and national news in their irreverent mockery of anti-abortionists. Their Mission Statement and Manifesto is too long to reproduce here, but I recommend it to anyone as a model of a world we would want to live in and as an excuse for a few good belly laughs. Is s u e #62, “ R andy F a e r ie 's Dilemma," features the work of the Turtle Archer Group, gay men and lesbians in V irginia Beach, VA. The first story, "Homonoids from the Deep" is an eroticscience fiction-fantasy by James Marquis Hiers. It takes place on a wiid weekend right after a cure for AIDS has been made available. Following the story is a short portfolio of reproductions of the author's watercolors and pen and ink drawings. Mary M easm er’s portrait photography follows, showing the model, Kevin A. Girard, in a number of Greek statue-like poses. The model shows himself to have other talents as well in the next section, entitled "Muses." His poetry is showcased along with that of Charles Duff and Deborah Lass. The closing story, “The Day the Harth Stood III." tells how the "nympho mortals or faunfellows or Puckpeopie" get together to save the planet. Author Don Seaman has a lot of fun with wordplay, especially with the names of his "spritepersons," all of whom have names derived from flowers. Another fiction piece that should be m entioned is "C hristian" by Lawrence Michael Dixon. It has a slow, quiet eroticism as well as an underlying tone of innocence. In Mark Thompson's article, “Black Leather Wings,” he reported on the first Leather Faerie Gathering at W olf Creek. While he had "become tired of the isolating

The experiences he had at the Black Leather Wings Gathering allowed him to bring the two halves of his life together in a way that others have gratefully expressed since. Isolation of a different sort afflicts those in prison and this issue inaugurated the return of our “ B rothers Behind Bars” column. In response to the readers who questioned whether prisoners are deserving of our commitment, STV Xwrote a moving response. He wrote of his horror at the conditions that he learned about since he began handling the mail from prisoners. He discussed the unequal way the law is applied to rich and poor. And while he advised us to use caution in writing to prisoners, reminded us that most of us are criminals in the eyes of a Supreme Court that says it is okay for consensual sodomy to be a punishable offense. His final point was that while any reader is obviously free not to write to prisoners, we should allow the opportunity to do so for those who would like to. There were three articles on AIDS from three very different perspectives this issue. Rick Adams' “Stepping Out of Line" advocated safe sex in the age of AIDS rather than denial o ra mad rush for a monogamous relationship. Carl H. Schneider's "An Open Letter to Brothers Deciding to Be Tested" was just that -- an explanation of how he made his decision to be tested and his hope that his experience w ill be of use to others. Crazy O w l's "The Spiritual Side of AIDS" listed some of the ways our community has matured since the advent of AIDS. He mentioned our increased awareness of diet and health, a growing awareness that death is not final but only part of a cycle, and the way gay men have learned to care for each other rather than just seeing each other as an opportunity for sex. In the last category, along with AIDS buddies and hospices he talked about his hope that we are learning to take the time to hug each other more. A craftsperson and an artist were also featured this issue. Michael Lekberg told of being a "self-taught hide-tanner and bead-worker" in his informative "W orking With Beads." For those of us seeking to support ourselves while living rurally, articles like his are invaluable. Jim Jackson's art was finally presented this issue as a portfolio rather than as individual sketches accompanying someone else's article. Jim 's art and personality have

B ry an T h o m p s o n 's " S o la r Alternative” explained how a system using sunlight to be converted to electricity could be built cheaply and easily. A photovoltaicsystem like the one he designed for Blue Heron Farm was to be a most significant event in the history of RFD in the years following this retrospective. It would make it possible to use a computer at Short Mountain so that typing and layout could be done on site rather than being done elsewhere and mailed back to us with the inevitable confusions and delays. And this concludes our retrospective of the first sixteen years of the magazine. We may do a brief recap of the last four years in the next issue if there is interest. Let us know what you thought of this feature and the directions you would like to see us take in the future. If there are areas you w ould like us to cover, remember the most effective way is to write an article of your own. It’s been the vision and the energy that you, our readers, use in exploring the possibilities of your lives that gives this magazine its reason for being. And its been your w illingness to share your explorations with each other that has kept it going through all the changes of the last twenty years. Here's to the adventure of the next twenty!

like that & some fun stuff like

PERFORMANCE EXTRAVAGANZA midweek—so polish up your act bayahaybeez, then friday

CHURCH LADIES FOR CHOICE (not faeries but friends of) abortion rights drag march then Saturday a

D-D-D-DRUMMING

SERKEL

meeting up with lezbian avengers & frenzies then finally

GIANT P U

FAERIE T S

to be held ah-loft during the big sunday march, anyway, after this page are sum hard to read maps & sum amusing joan drawings and a hot keisha photo and more j n f o r m a t i o n .

This insert was prepared by the editorial collective of Faerie. Gram, the New York faerie circle's moonly newsletter. Drawings by Joan Text by Mo, Aleksandra & Trixie Photo by Keisha Layout by Trixie For a sample issue of the newsletter, call Aleksandra at (718)832-5105

♦

COME TO NEW YORK! BRING A SKIRT!

S tonewall 25 NY C ircle C ontacts New Y o r k F a e r ie P h o n e : (718)625-4505 For general info and late breaking news on faerie happenings. H o u sin g (i.e. B e d d in g Q u een s) Isadora and Tom (718) 858-7836. If you have housing to offer, or need housing, call Isadora and Tom. S p ace (Le. S p a ce Q u een )

(212)721-5612 Jeff Bob, ISO faerie loft space for crashing & circling. E x tra v a g a n z a (i.e. T h e a tre Q u e e n ) Isadora (718) 858-7836. For performing on June 22nd and 23rd at the Gowanus Arts Exchange in Brooklyn. F a e rie B o u tiq u e (i.e. B ooty Q u een s) 718-625-7571. Gabriel and Keisha. For 3 days of faerie boutique space by the piers at the end of Christopher Street. This booth will outshine all oth ers. O v e ra lls(s) (Le. D ish Q ueen) Mark Miller (718) 832-5105. If you have any rumors to spread, have cool ideas you need help organizing, or if you simply wish to bask in the melodious tones of Aleksandra’s soothing voice.

KEY 2 MAPS Manhattan

(S)

—^ C e n tr a l P a r k F a e r ie Spot

The Pinetum (as in arboretum), our very own Faerie Central away from the throng ing hordes of the Great Lawn on Sunday. Cor B to 86th Street.

C h ris to p h e r Street P ie rs

Esplanade and cruising along the mighty Hudson River. Also site of Faerie Boutique. #/ or 9 to Christopher, or 2 or 3 to 14th Street.

C h ris to p h e r Street

Follow the yellow brick road. 1 to Christopher Street.

C e n tr a l P a r k

Where things are green and moist.

R a m b le s

The place to work on your tan. Don’t for get your lotion! Ask the nice conductor, the one with the cute moustache...

Stonew all In n /S h e r id a n S q u a re

Where it all began, the hot beating heart of gay Manhattan. #1 or 9 train to Christopher Street.

W ash in g to n Q u e e r P a r k

Boyhood home of sis Henry James. Lots of street performance, not the least of whom will be the faeries. A, B, C, D, E, F or Q to West 4th Street.

J u d s o n M e m o ria l C h u r c h

55 Washington Square South. Pre-drum ming Potluck Dinner and Fae planning circle on Saturday night A, B, C, D, E, F or Q to West 4th Street.

Brooklyn G a r d e n o f U n io n

14 th Street

Cheap drag way. Ask Joan, she knows. N, R, 4, 5, 6 to Union Square.

Union Street between 4th & 5th Aves. An asparagus grows in Brooklyn. Friday morning circle on soil with Earthmistress Trixie. N or R to Union St.

U n ite d N a tio n s

If only. Best effort at present writing. 4, 5, or 6 to 42nd Street. Or march uptown, honey!

L e s b ia n a n d G a y C o m m u n ity S e rv ic e s C e n ta u r

Converted school building at 208 West 13th Street Alice’s Restaurant for NYC gayfolk. 1, 2, 3 or 9 to 14th Street.

T o m p k in s S q u a re P a r k

Focal point of everything East Village Radical. Drum with the homeboys or ogle the fierce and pierced. Kinda near the Nuyorican Caf6, where, rumor has it, RED will be hosting a reading sometime during the week.F to 2nd Avenue, or 6 to Astor Place.

G owanus A rt Center

Douglas between 3rd & 4th. For the Extravaganza, 8 pm, June 22 & 23. N, R, 2, 3, 4, 5, D, Q to Atlantic Ave.

P rosp ect P a r k /P a r k Slope

The Mecca of Gay Brooklyn. Check out the new queer bookstore at the comer of 9th St and 7th Avenue. F to 7th Avenue.

For (f)art's sake, Isadora gets his ass plastered by Joan while randy Ran-dee giggles in the background (guess what he got plasteredâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and did he really need all that vaseline?) David's butt will grace one of the faerie puppets designed by Gabriel Q/Lightening Rod. Photo by Keisha/Keith Gemerek.

SEX TALK WITH VIVIAN The telephone rings at six A.M. "This is your wake up call, Mr. Toal." I look around at the faux bamboo walls of the Hotel Fountainbleu, Miami. Florida, tackiest resort in the United States, according to The Encyclopedia o f Bad Taste. Tire hotel includes a kidney-shaped swimming pool with its own concrete island, the Poodle Lounge and numerous statues of angels with tambourines. My evil boss has sent me here for a Developer's Conference on Clipper, a computer language. The conference ended last night. 1 leave tomorrow afternoon for California, which has recently become my home state. But today I make a smaller journey. 1 walk out to the balcony and feel the hot. The island in the pool had a sign up yesterday announcing a temperature of 91 degrees. In November. Hateful state. No wonder 1 took so long to come back. And not for a vacation this time. When last 1 visited Miami. I had not yet reached my fifteenth birthday. Almost twenty years ago. Twenty. I get older by the moment. And Vivian has passed seventy. Vivian had not quite admitted to forty when she gave birth to me. As Harold had once explained. "Vivian and 1 practiced rhythm religiously, but after eight years, Kevin was syncopation." Having had Early and Donald during the earlier and more festive part of the Fifties, she had grown tired of playing Mother. And that included tired of vacations with the kids. Harold had admitted that he preferred Early, then in the navy, to his other two sons. Vivian had always preferred Donald, then in the monastery. So Mr. and Mrs. Toal conspired to take me on an expensive vacation to make up for not loving their change-of-life baby so much. In February, 1973, Harold, Vivian and I boarded a United jet bound for Florida. Harold chose Florida because Aunt Mildred had taken Robert and Eddie there every winter, so it seemed high class. As I pack my bags to leave the Hotel Fountainbleu forever, I think about my father drinking bourbons on that flight because he had such a fear of flying. I now have a phobia of not having a book to read on airplanes, so 1 put Scarlett into my bag because, as trashy as it is, it is a book. The ungainly triple debarked on Orlando to tour the newly-opened Disneyworld. We flew to Miami two days later, where Harold had booked us into one room in a hotel named Marco Polo. It lacked the marble statues of angels with tambourines, but it did have jeweled lamps and red velvet wallpaper. The next five days did not end. The ensuing nineteen years are an elaborate dream sequence inspired by my sunburn-poisoned delirium. Harold and Vivian bet on the horses at Hialeah and left me in the swimming pool (rectangular, without even an island). Harold

and Vivian bet on the dogs at the greyhound races and left me in the pool. Harold and Vivian bet on the humans at jai alai and left me shriveling in the pool. By the fourth day, 1 had worn out my lime-green-with-black-lion swimming suit. But before I could dry off. Harold and Vivian hustled me in their rent-a-car to the nearest discount clothing store. A week after I returned, Vivian pulled two Rheingold beers out of the ice box and said, "We need to talk." "What about?" "I’ve read your journal. What’s this about a son of mine being gay?" "Well, Mother, I’ve slept with a man and I enjoyed it. I’ve slept w ith a woman and 1 didn't really enjoy it." "That has absolutely nothing to do with it. I’ve slept with your father for thirty years and 1 never once enjoyed it." The Marco Polo hotel came back to me then. Harold and Vivian had gone to a show at the Tropicana. I had gone to bed and had turned out the lights, but my sunburn kept me awake. They came in after midnight. Harold slurred words too loudly, as he usually did after an extra bourbon. I will never forget lying in bed listening to Vivian scrape in her urgent whisper, "Harold, stop! It hurts, Harold. I don’t want to. Stop, Harold!" But that night, over the two Rheingolds. I felt too angry to feel compassion, so I said, "Well, that’s your problem and not mine." Vivian and I did not speak to each other for seven years. As I drive the car north from Miami, I wonder if sons w'ho have that sex talk with their parents make as many mistakes as I did in those seven years. I dated all the wrong men: bisexuals who had understandings with their wives, reformed hustlers who expected to see something on the dresser when they were done, Mafia hit men . . . One night I met a doctor at a Gay

Coffee Hour. The doctor, new in town, stood over six feet tall, had blond hair and a thick mustache. Long thin fingers. When he At that time I weighed 165 pounds, forty to fifty more pounds than were needed on my 4’11" body. So I couldn't fit into any of the suits in Boys or Young Men’s or Husky. Harold, disappointed that all of that water hadn't shrunk me. walked me over to Men's, where we located a pair of orange baggies. The size must have made Vivian realize that 1 was no longer a little boy. Her cheeks turned a red only slightly more pale than her Clairol-hued hair as she sputtered, "You'll need something else." She found a silver-haired queen who served as sales clerk. Vivian whispered, ”M-my son needs a jerkstop." "A what?" Polite but louder. "A JERKSTOP." "Oh, I’ll service him myself. Madam. How big is he?" As I rent the car at the National office, I realize that I failed to seize the opportunity in that shopping trip. 1could have asked why 1 needed a jockstrap, what all of this birds-and-bees business means. But I had the same Repressed Catholic taboos as them. After all. my family prided itself on never seeing or discussing anyone else's genitalia. So we didn't talk about it for seven years. Which gave me time to develop some bad habits. By the time I went to college, I had figured out that if I ever did get over virginity, I would do so with someone with the same equipment as me. I tried heterosexuality but never quite got the knack of it. During senior year, however, I met Michael, the harpist, fell in love and got my heart broken. Since neither Harold nor Vivian had broached the subject of fowl and yellowjacket, I reasoned that sex stories should remain silent. So I wrote my hurt about Michael into a journal. He entered the seminary, and I returned to Yaphank.

( d Jan Lynch

K. IhaddeuS FaulSdn

laughed at one of my stones. I gave him my telephone number. I made an excuse to leave and left. He stopped by less than an hour later. "I brought a bottle of wine." he said. pulling it out of his black leather bag. I went to the kitchen, brought out two glasses, then went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. 1 had no intention of more than a kiss on the first date, but 1 wanted a nice-smelling kiss. When 1 returned, 1 gulped the wine as I sat in the easy chair. Halfway through his own glass, he said, "Come here. 1 want to relax you a little." I didn't feel nervous so much as dizzy. He said, "You're such a pretty thing. Where's your lover?" "I don't have a lover. I live alone here." He put his arm around me. 1 sat still as the room started to shift. He shut off the lamp, saying, "We both know what we want." I stammered as he unbuttoned my shirt. "I thought we might get to know each other." "Well, then, know this." His thin fingers reached inside my shirt and twisted my nipple. "Ouch." He twisted again, harder. "Stop! I don't want to." He yanked my shirt open, buttons spilling onto the floor. "A fighter. I like that." Pinning my wrists together in his hand, he said, "Look what else the good doctor has in his bag of tricks." Handcuffs. 1 will never forget gagging on my own underwear. I will never forget the little crunch inside my head as the bridge of my nose snapped against the wall. I will never forget this doctor pulling his long, thin fingers out of my asshole, licking his pinkie and saying. "All I need is some ketchup." A dribble of shit clung to his mustache as he dressed himself and left.

"I'm not really hungry." I offer without hope. "But I made your favorite." Experience taught me that my favorite means whatever meat had a sale price at Path mark. Today, my favorite consists of cold cut selections, bologna or liverwurst. Wonder Bread, iceberg lettuce and Swiss cheese, a step up from Velveeta. After lunch, we see the sights of St. Petersburg: a coral pink hotel and a combination shopping mall/aquarium. An hour later we return to the condo Vivian puts a roast into the oven, my "favorite" again: lamb. I no longer lecture them about the dangers of eating red meat. They no longer lecture me about the dangers of eating white meat on Friday. Harold sits back on the aluminum chair, content again with cigar and Tom Clancy. Vivian suggests, "You've been away from your home all week. Why don't we wash your laundry?" I consider telling her that the Hotel Fountainbleu has pressed my shirts and suits, leaving unclean only my gym clothes, socks and underwear. But this will save me from the afternoon soap operas, so I help load a basket with Tide detergent, Downy brightener, Bounce softener and Clorox bleach. Vivian sticks her change purse inside her brassiere and we walk to the strip mall. After we enter the Clean-o-mat, Vivian begins sorting. "Isn't it sad?" I toss the gym clothes onto the third pile. "Isn't what sad?" "That Magic Johnson has turned out to be gay." "He is not gay. He has AIDS. One does not imply the other. I can’t believe the woman who thought Liberace was straight —

"I blame Vivian for letting me become her," I think, as 1 drive across Alligator Alley, a two lane patch of tar which bisects the Everglades. My lover Brian ended the seven years of silence between Vivian and me. 1 drive to St. Petersburg today to see Harold and Vivian, who have moved there from Yaphank. They love living in their old vacation spots. 1 drive there because Brian has told me to visit them in their old age because I will regret it if 1 don't. Up the west coast of Florida, I speed up to eighty-five miles an hour because I never drive anymore. About four blocks away from my destination, I stop at another McDonald’s, in order to go to the bathroom. Never visit on a full bladder. I then drive to the condominium, one of the sunny but tacky aluminum-sided units that the Golden Girls wouldn’t visit on a dare. Harold and Vivian wait outside, sitting on aluminum chairs. Harold puts down his Tom Clancy novel. Vivian outs down her crossword puzzle. She waves. Vivian has let the dye grow out. Her hair has turned as white as that of Grandma Wise. As 1 get out of the car, I smell Harold’s after shave, Old Spice. "Where are your bags?" he mouths through his unlit cigar. "In the trunk." "Harold, we'll get them after lunch. I made a nice lunch."

"Well, don't tell me that he hasn't had a few . . . " She bites the word "fairies" off and clicks quarters into the washers. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to L.A. But these are the Nineties. We know that the epidemiology has changed." "Don't use words like epidemiology with me. I aw a registered nurse, you know." We toss the piles of clothes into the machines. "I just worry that they'll find you dead some day." "I see. We've come down to the laundromat so that you can ask, 'Do you have it?'" "W ell. . . ” She hesitates with the cup of Tide in her hand. "And the answer is . . . : I beat a drum roll on the Maytag. "No.": "How do you know?" "Well, Miss Registered Nurse, there is a test, and Brian and I are both HIV negative. Since the relationship is monogamous --" "As far as you know." She pushes the coins in and the washers waddle into action. "As far as I trust Brian, which, except for blankets on winter nights and the chunky parts of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, is pretty far. And you can bet that if either of us promiscuous homo-sexuals ever stepped out for --" I pause so that I can torture her with the term "unprotected anal sex, we’d wear a condom." "Thank God."

"Thank God and thank education, but do not thank George Bush. Hey, let’s go for a walk." "And miss the softener cycle?" "This is the first time these clothes have ever seen bleach, let alone borax and brighteners." "Trust me. I know how to do this." So we stay. I am not a nice person. I return to the argument, aiming for the weak spot. "If you really w'ant to worry about someone embarrassing theToal family by dropping dead from PCP, you might consider my venerable brothers." "They couldn't get AIDS." "Do you mean Donald the adulterer or Early the drug addict?" "I just worry about you. Your father says that it's my fault. That I always wanted a little girl." When I was four. Vivian bought me a Kissy doll in Woolworth's. I remember carrying it home and looking into its plastic blue eyes, which blinked when I tilted it. I loved Kissy's hair, and I combed the curls until they turned straight. I remember Vivian treating me to her new red nail polish and dressing me in the black dress and fake pearls for Halloween. "And you were so disappointed in what you got." I yank the clothes out of the washer. Vivian rips cling-free sheets and tosses them into the dryers. "Of course, your father never did like you." "If you want me to relieve you of the guilt, forget it. Scientists and philosophers argue about my hypothalamus, but 1 say it's just the gene pool." "Then out of fifty-four first cousins, why are you the only one who's gay?" "Just lucky." I don't.sh^re my suspicions about Carol, happily unmarried at forty-one. "Maybe I shouldn't have had a baby so late in life." 1 arch my eyebrows in my best Bette Davis: "Every family has an Aunt Charlotte." "That's not funny." We stay silent through the drying cycle. When the dryer buzzes, I say, "It comes down to the fact that I am gay and I am going to stay that way. And most days I'm happy about that." I start folding tshirts. "And it seems that either we pretend it doesn't matter or we just stop talking again." "I'm getting too old to fight. I’m over seventy. My life is over." She folds nurse's creases into the underwear. "You're as dead as you feel. Grandma lived until she was ninety-six. That gives you a quarter of a century to be bitter." I start pairing socks. "Your grandmother never told me how to handle these things." She folds the last t-shirt and freezes. Her fingers touch the jockstrap and she pulls back with a little gasp. The jockstrap falls on the floor. I do not believe in an intervening God, but I do believe that you should learn what you can from coincidence. All at once, I am sorry. I grew up thinking she had all the answers but wasn't telling me. And now I see that we're both a little scared of sex and growing old. I pick up the jockstrap and throw it into the laundry basket. "C'mon, Mom. Let's go home."

by RQPbae,

Psychedelic- painted micru-m ini-buses might have been a common sight in Haight-Ashburv in 1968. but the> certainly were not in Blue Springs. It was in that year that a flowered VW bus brought Hank Todd into the lives of the people of this quaint Tennessee farming community at the foot of the Cumberland Mountains. Hank’s late aunt. Miss Nell Grayson, had left him her decaying Victorian house; he'd always been so fond of the house when he came there as a child. Since he had decided to drop out of school to try his wings at independence, his newly acquired real estate presented him with the perfect opportunity.. It sat on a little more than a full acre of land in the middle of Blue Springs. Hank, a recent vegetarian, wanted to live off the land and grow his own food organically. His upbringing as a preacher's kid had not included horticulture, but he figured he could learn everything he needed to know from books. Hank's appearance in Blue Springs was the main topic of conversation around town. The men who perpetually hung out at Fox Tinch’s service station called him "that girl-boy" because of his hair. By the mid-seventies long hair would be common even on “good ole boys," but in the late sixties, plowing ground was not easy. Actually, people accepted Hank rather rapidly. He had a winning smile and liked the good-natured ribbing which his new neighbors handed out. Jackson Hawkins' house sat catty-comer across the road from Hank's. Since he was the nearest neighbor. Jack felt that he should be hospitable. Not knowing what else to do, he made Hank a plate of brownies and brought them to him the second morning after he moved in. Hank received his hospitality warmly and joined him in eating brownies on the front porch. Jack remembered Hank, from childhood visits to the aunt's, as a wrild and impetuous boy and had even recalled his taste for chocolate. He marveled at how this person, who now easily might be described as a man. could have so recently been a lanky, snotty-nosed and rather bratty kid. They sat in the creaking swing facing the dried morning glory vines on the opposite ends of the porch. “Now Henry, what on earth makes you think that you want to live in a little spot in the road like this?" Jack queried. “Oh. I don't know. Mr. Hawkins." Hank replied. “1 was just looking for a quiet place to get my feet on the ground and my fingers in the dirt." Pushing his awkward black-framed glasses up his Hawkins' nose. Jack was quick to tell Hank that his name was Jack and he wouldn't be called Mr. Hawkins. “1 may look like an old fogey to you. but I won’t be treated like one." Hank said that it wouldn’t happen again, and while they were at it. his name was Hank not Henry. The conversation went on much longer than Jack had intended. He apologized to Hank for having killed his morning. Hank assured him that he had come to Blue Springs to escape the tedium of schedules. Jack picked up the plate. It showed only faint crumbly remembrances of the brownies it had held. When Jackson got home he was in a happy mood and moved through his morning chores with ease, although ft was. in fact, early afternoon. He played and relayed bits and pieces front the morning’s conversation in his head. Although he had not set out on a fact-finding mission. Jack had found out a remarkable amount of information about his new neighbor on the first visit. Hank was now twenty-one years old, had not finished college, was exempt from the draft because of an eye condition called nystagmus. His ambition was to be a musician, although he lacked only one quarter in having his degree in History. A small Methodist college had kicked him out for having two ounces of grass in his dorm mom. He was a disappointment to his Methodist preacher father. He had an interest in eastern religions. His closest fiend was a girl named Maria who had recently graduated and moved to Boulder. Colorado. Jack remembered so much about Hank from his visit that he wondered if he'd even mentioned anything about himself. Now, in his early forties. Jack was a pleasant- looking man. Jackson was always cleanly shaven, in spite of an obviously heavy beard. He was a shortish, sturdy man who almost always wore khaki pants and a blue work shirt buttoned to the top. Deepening creases made his blue eyes appear to smile out of his heavy glasses in an otherwise mostly passionless face. On the infrequent times he did smile, Jackson showed a big gap-toothed grin that was typical of the Hawkinses.

People liked Jack in spite of his lingering reputation of having been in the asylum at Moccasin Bend when he was a teenager. Jackson now kept up the family house, working as a handyman and occasional field hand. He had worked in Oak Ridge for a while but moved back home to take care of his invalid mother after she’d gotten so impossible for others to control. His sister Roberta, currently called Bobbi. worked ten miles away in Collinsville. She had moved in with Jack shortly after their mother's death. Her fourth marriage had just ended in a very unpleasant divorce, and she really didn't have anywhere else to go. v The morning after Jack's neighborly visit, he waved to Hank from across the mad. Hank was mowing Miss Nell's yard with a rusty old rotary mower he found in the n>ol shed. He wore only a pair of cu-off jeans and a multi-colored bandanna rolled onto a sweat band. Swear glistened in the black V at the top (if his shirtless chest. “Hello Mr....Hello Jack." he called out. as he crossed the deteriorating asphalt road that separated their properties. “Isn’t it a glorious day?" “It surely is." Jack replied. “April is my favorite month. There’s something about the colors that just make you glad to be alive.” Hank went on to say that he hadn't planned on having to mow the grass quite so early. “What I need is a goat." Hank replied. “Do you know where there might be one that I could buy?” “Sure." Jack answered. “Old Herman Coffee up in Fult's Cove raises goats. I'm sure he could fix you up. Have you ever raised an animal?" As he expected. Hank answered in the negative. Jack was charmed by his idealism. “If you get one. I'll give you a hand with it." he offered. “I used to be pretty good with animals. I always had kind of a sixth sense about what they need." Hank walked back across the mad and resumed his mowing. Jack went back around the house, from whence he’d come to water the flowers just pushing their heads out of the soil. A similar scene was repeated daily for the next two years.

A mutually satisfying friendship developed, on which both were more than a little dependent Hank provided a much-treasured conduit between Jack and the world outside Blue Springs. Jack became a sort ot mentor for Hank in the country ways he so hoped to acquire. Jack told him where to go along the creek to cut cane for tent supports for his green beans. He told him how to lay the tomato sets on their sides when transplanted so they’d develop a sound mot system. Without Jack. Circe, the Nubian doe Hank bought from Fult’s Cove, would have dried up. Hank had utterly no idea that a lactating animal must be milked regularly. When Hank had company from school, which was most every weekend, he made a point of being sure Jack felt welcome to come over and meet his friends. Reluctantly, at first. Jack came to meet Hank’s college friends. He grew to like the fresh new faces he saw at Hank’s.

As the weeks passed. Hank shared the excitement and anticipation of his acceptance into the Corps. He was going to Columbia. He would have to learn an Indian language indigenous to the area where he would be working. Hank was very open about his fear of going. He was not so much afraid of what he wouldn’t be able to do. He worried, though, that he might be imposing values on people, values that sprung from the needs of his own culture, needs that might not actually be good for the “underdeveloped." “If you can survive in Blue Springs," Jack laughed, “you ought to be able to survive ‘bout anywhere. Seems to me you’ve pretty much converted the natives ‘round here. I don’t think you’ll have ta worry much about the Indians." Hank gave Jack a lot of the things he’d accumulated in his twoyear stay. Jack accepted only temporarily, promising to keep the belongings until Hank returned from his duty. He also promised to keep up the garden they had planted together. Jack even agreed to take Circe back to Mr. Coffee. She still called to Jack every morning until he came over to Hank’s yard. The day before Hank was to leave. Jack offered to bring supper. He also agreed to cut Hank’s long hair, which now fell to his waist. Sitting on the floor, they ate the rice and bean dish Jackson had made. After supper. Hank sat on a stool in the middle of the parlor for his shearing. His long tresses cascaded down the graceful valley of his brown back. Jack pulled the brush through Hank’s thick hair. He had bought the clippers to cut his mother's hair, although he’d never cut anyone else's. Shards of dark brown locks soon covered the floor. Hank chattered nervously as Jack cut away, but , whether out of concentration or preoccupation. Jack was nearly silent. He trimmed up Hank’s hair the best that he could. Jack used a little brush he’d brought from home to sweep the clippings from Hank’s shoulders. As he was brushing the last bits away, he was suddenly overcome with the most powerful desire he ever had in his life. The possible disastrous consequences of acting on this impulse quickly flashed and faded through his mind like a meteor. Then Jackson chose to act. Almost as if he were observing someone else doing it. he leaned over and sweetly, gently kissed Hank Todd on his newly exposed pale neck. Hank sat still for a moment and then swiveled slowly on the stool to look at Jack's face. They looked into each other’s eyes, and then Hank reached up and stroked Jack’s face w'ith the back of his hand. He rested his hand on Jack’s neck. Jack, in turn, took Hank's hand from there and kissed his palm. Hank stood up and embraced Jack. Then the two of them walked over to the comer where Hank had made a pallet on the floor for his last night in this place. They had presented Hank's bed to a poor family over on Chance Mountain. The quilt Jack had given him as a going-away present covered the makeshift bed. Hank unbuttoned his jeans and stepped from them, liberating his penis which arched urgently from it’s shiny black thicket. He stood there as naturally as if he'd been undressing in front of Jack Hawkins all his life. Then he slowly and carefully undressed Jack. Now standing naked before him. he realized he'd never even seen Jack without his shirt. For the first time he noticed how powerfully built his friend and neighbor was. Now, even with Jack's apparent anxiety. Hank sensed a vibrant masculine energy that was almost palpable. Jack trembled a bit until Hank held him in his arms and said. "It’s okay. Jackie. It’s okay." They lay down on the makeshift mattress. Jack explored Hank's body like an unfamiliar landscape, caressing it with birth hand and cheek as he went. He was amazed by the contrasts in this young man's body, hard and powerful here, tender and vulnerable there, soft and smooth places neighboring areas of texture and pattern. Hank’s body seemed urgent to both give and receive. It was not as if Jack had never seen another man’s body before. He had nursed the bruises from his father's drunken brawls on many occasions, often while his mother entertained “the girls" in a game ot bridge in the parlor. With his mother's paralysis, he’d raised his little brother Jimmy like his own son. Nor was he a virgin. His twin brothers Calvin and Luther, along with three of their friends, had seen to that when he was thirteen. But he'd never really touched another man, not in a loving way. In the deepest recesses of his being, he knew that his heart often raced at the sight of shirtless, tight-muscled field hands with whom he sometimes labored. He was also absolutely mesmerized by the exquisiteness of one of the young men who sacked groceries at the Little Market. But he had never given himself permission to think about actually being with a man. or a woman for that matter. He had never owned any of these innermost feelings. Now. in his mind, he was saying that this one time would be enough. Just once, just one time right, could make up for a lifetime of loneliness. “This will be lovely," he told himself. And it was. Although Jackson was certainly not what would be considered a strikingly good-looking man, his intrinsic handsomeness amazed Hank. Had he not known Jackson so well, he would not have even noticed. With his solid form softened by the patterned embellishment of abundant body hair, this forty-five -year-old man somehow looked as sweet and attractive

What Jackson liked about this crowd was the freshness he felt when around them It certainly felt good to be around people who were willing to break down old wall*', old rules. He thought about Jesus and was sure these were the type of people he’d want to be with. He often chuckled when he thought of Miss Nell Grayson and what she’d have done had she known what was going on in her upstairs bedroom. Jack’s heart raced and he felt strangely uncomfortable the first time he saw two of Hank's male friends holding hands He quickly resolved, though, that how two grown people lived was "not his rat killing." They were such nice young men. In time. Jack actually began to enjoy the strange sounds of Indian sitar music. Much to Bobbi’s disgust. Jack even burned an occasional stick of incense at home, especially during thunderstorms. A Chianti bottle with multicolored lasers of candle wax began to grow to sizable proportion on the center of the breakfast table. Jackson became a kind of folk character for Hank and his friends. Hank always bragged on him. He told how Jack taught him to make hominy in an iron pot in the back yard. He described how they’d made apple butter, cooking the apples from Miss Nell’s ancient orchard all day until the fragrant pulp grew waxy and sweet. Hank’s girl friends liked for Jack to show them his old family quilts. They were like a storybook for him. each swatch a small chapter of his personal history'. "Read us a quilt." they often begged him. Some swatches brought hours of stories; others brought memories and emotions that he ‘d choose not to talk about. Through the months. Jack began to tell Hank more and more about his life. He shared his feelings at a personal level that surprised him. He spoke of the spells he’d had as a child. He described what it was like when he withdrew to his own private space. Jack told Hank that when his life got so had he thought he could not stand it. he’d play a game with himself. He called it “Going to Florida." He had always wanted to go to Florida. When he needed to escape from his life of misery, he went to Florida in his mind. He told Hank that he’d watched wild tropical storms and gentle ocean waves. He’d seen strong bronze bodies, bright umbrellas and tall graceful palms with leaves swaying in the peaceful warm breezes. Openly and freely, Jackson related long-forgotten stories of his abusive old drunken father and bitter invalid mother. He described the grip that both of his parents had successfully used to control his will. Jackson told Hank how he had been sent to the Moccasin Bend Psychiatric Hospital at sixteen, after he’d been found sitting like a stone in the cinders by the coal house with three dead kittens in his lap. No one had ever discovered the small grave out behind the smoke house where he’d buried Freda, his much-beloved pet cat. He had found her dead that morning in the curve just down the road from Blue Springs Park. After burying his pet. he came to the.coal house. There he gently held each of the week-old kittens by the nape of the neck and pinched their little nostrils until he was sure the life had ebbed from the poor dependent creatures. Jackson explained that he’d always pitied Freda when she had a litter. He knew the total dependency of the kittens was a burden for her. He felt even cats should have choices. "When I’m grown.” he thought to himself, "I’ll have choices -- at least more than a cat’s choice." He told of the horrible shock treatments he received at Moccasin Bend and of both the open and subtle prejudices he experienced upon his return to Blue Springs. Jack felt that sharing his feelings with Hank made a difference. He always felt better and lighter. Hank received the stories of Jack Hawkin’s life as if they were of value to him. He often asked for more detail or clarification, but never for justification. The bitterness Jack had felt in his life began to ease. There was a graceful lifting of the spirit. Through time, he became a happy person. Bobbi began to feel uneasy about the relationship that had developed between her brother and his "hippie” neighbor. Only once did she make the mistake of warning Jack about what people in the community must be thinking. He unflinchingly reminded her how she twice had to employ the services of old Aunt Mattie Finger. Jack still tended the two little stone markers in the back yard along with the one he'd set up for Freda. Bobbi. however, was genuinely concerned about her brother. She was afraid that he had become too dependent on his friendship with Hank Todd. "He’ll blow out of here some day like a dust devil." she warned him. “You’ll be lost. You haven’t had a spell in years, and I’d hate to see you have another. If you go back to Moccasin Bend, they might just keep you this time. You don’t want that, do you?” She did not know that for months Jack had been dealing with Hank’s coming departure to the Peace Corps.

<5V

to Hank as am of the girls he'd e\er been with. Hank, in the exploratory throes of his own sexual revolution, had experienced sex with males a few times, but he had never thought of Jack in this way. He was astonished by what he now saw and felt. His own attraction startled him. Jack's usually passionless countenance now glowed warmly Hank'' caressing touch wandered from Jack's densely matted chest to the soft dow ny swell of his belly and then down the trail of hair leading from his navel. Jack responded to his touch like an experienced lover. Hank reached up and slowly removed Jack's newly-acquired wire-rimmed glasses Jack's pale blue eyes danced with excitement and. perhaps, apprehension. Loosened. Jack's hair fell in short grey and brown waves. Hank reached up on the crate he'd used to make a bedside table and retrieved an oblong package. It was wrapped in mint-green paper and tied w ith a pink satin ribbon. He silently gave Jack his going-away present Jack unwrapped a beautiful silk fan that was the same color as the wrapping paper. It was one that Hank's grandmother had left him. She had been a missionary in China before the Boxer Rebellion, and Hank had always admired the many oriental treasures she'd given him from that part of her life. Jack slowly opened the fan to reveal a field of iris. He carefully laid it on the floor, and then he and Hank made love That night, with half-a-dozen candles burning and the smell of incense in the mom, they made love twice more. Along with the sandalwood, their musky scents blended with each cithers, saturating the room. As the morning light splayed through the curtain covering the lower window, they made love once again. Then they lay in silence, nestled back to front like spoons, bonding together in the still-warm wetness of their most recent lovemaking. Hank slowly caressed the curly brown hair that graced Jack's back and powerful shoulders. Jack looked at the patches of cloth on the quilt he'd given Hank. He searched for a patch made of small blue-check material taken from one of the tiny aprons that his little brother Jimmy had worn as an infant. He stroked it softly with his thumb. They lay there silently in the morning stillness until they both knew they must stay no longer. Hank propped up on his elbow and spoke softly. “Jack, 1 don’t know what to say. I just want you to know that...” Jackson turned and put his hand up to Hank’s lips and said. "No. Hank. Please don't say anything. Don't spoil this for me. It was perfect.” He paused and then repeated. “Perfect." Jack stood and dressed. He looked long and openly at Hank's sprawling form, try ing his best to memorize Hank's splendid nakedness as he did. Later Jack busied himself doing the things he knew- must be done before Hank could leave. He folded the quilt and put it by the door. As he washed the dishes from the night before. Hank swept his own long curls from the floor. Then Jack went outside to feed Circe. From the back yard, he could see that Bobbi’s car was gone. Jack decided tljat he would not be shamed by Roberta about his evening with Hank, no matter how hard she tried. This was his. and no one was going to take it from him. Hank had loaded his last few boxes for the trip to his parents' home in Chattanooga. He'd be catching the plane there on Thursday. He climbed aboard the flowered van and slammed the door that gave out its usual tinny thud. Jack stood at the window. Hank grabbed his hand and held it. “I'll miss you. my trusted friend. You've left your mark on

me forever Wherever I go. you will go there too.” He did not recognize, as Jack did. the slightly altered quote from the Book of Ruth. Hank started his noisy engine and revved it to get it warm. “I will write. I don’t forget my special friends. I almost wish I weren't leaving now. but I'll be back You'll see " Giving Jack a thumbs up. he slowly rolled off and turned toward the mountain. Jack watched until Hank was out of sight, holding the folded green fan against his chest. %f Jack walked across the road and into his kitchen. He grabbed the keys to the old black pickup and walked out side. He drove across to Miss Nell s house. C iae bleated nervously as he put her in the back, tying her securely to the sideboard. He drove off in the same direction Hank had taken just twenty minutes before. He followed Hank's route to nearly the foot of the mountain, where he turned up the Fult's Cove Road. He came to Coffee's lane and slowed to tum in. then came to a full stop. Moving carefully through his gears, he pulled on past the lane and continued down the road. The wind lifted Jackson's hair as he picked up speed. He pulled off at the foot of the mountain and helped Circe from the truck. It took the better part of an hour to lead the curious animal up the logging road which emerged from the forest by the old Henley cabin. He heard the bleating of the feral goats that lived near this place. By Circe's singing, he knew she had heard them a good ten minutes before. Jack sat in warm sunlight on the porch of the decay ing cabin. He took off his blue work shirt and held the doe close. Laying his head down across the nape of her neck, he felt the animal's quick pulse. Then he took off the rope halter, stroked her silky ear and looked into her yellow square-pupiled eye. Circe took a few slow steps away and stopped to nibble at something on the ground. Then, without warning, she ran like a kid for the edge of the woods. She kicked her heels into the air and disappeared into the green. Jack sat on the porch for an hour. He watched bam swallows feeding their nest full of fledglings tucked under the roof beam. In the warm sun, his skin released a sweet earthy fragrance which he figured somehow related to the previous night’s lovemaking. Walking back down the mountain, he thought he heard Circe's familiar bleat. He put on his shirt but did not button it. Gliding silently down the slight grade, he popped the clutch to start the truck and headed back to Blue Springs. «Sy> The truck thumped across the bridge over Spring Creek that marked the edge of town. Jack slowed as he passed the Church of Christ and turned around in the big graveled parking lot at the mill. He went back down the road and pulled into Staxton's service station. David Staxton soon came out of the bay. wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his grimy hand. “Fill ‘er up. Mr. Jack?” David questioned as he flipped the on switch w ith the pump handle. “Sure thing. David." Jack smiled at him as he stepped lightly from the truck and headed into the station. “And I’ll take one of these maps you keep by the register.” Jackson carefully unfolded it and traced ever so lightly the bright red sinuous line that led down the map to the letters F.l.o.r.i.d.a. T

A PIZt€Nl> in by James Medley Blaire thought he had it right at last. Just to make sure, he closed the book he held in his right hand and repeated the words from memory once more in his mind. They would have to be absolutely perfect before he stepped into the chalked circle he'd drawn on the basement floor. Stumbling just a bit with a word, Tetragrammaton, Blaire was reasonably certain he had mastered the cadence the book stated was necessary to conjure the particular spirit he desired to help him. He very deliberately took off all his clothes and piled them in a tidy heap on the concrete floor. One leg of his Levis touched the chalk circle he’d painstakingly drawn the night before and Blaire kicked it back with his bare foot. Then he gingerly stepped into the center of the circle. The basement, although the coolest place in the house, was still hot and Blaire rubbed the sweat from his forehead into his curly black hair which fell almost to his warm brown eyes. He closed them beneath his Coke-bottle glasses and folded his thin arms. Hesitantly at first, but then with an increasing assurance. Blaire recited the words he'd so carefully studied: "I conjure you, mightiest demon, that you forthwith appear and show yourself unto me, before this circle in a fair and human shape, w ithout any deformity or ugly shape, and without delay take back your hateful demons. Drive them far amidst the deserts. Thence these sufferings 1 will banish, far away to rocky caverns. I conjure you in the name of him to whom all creatures are obedient: and by this ineffable name Tetragrammaton Jehovah, which being heard the elements are overturned, the air is shaken, the sea runs back, the fire is quenched, the earth trembles. Come! Come hasten and take your loathsome offspring from my sight!" At the conclusion, he fairly barked a second time, “Take your loathsome offspring from my sight!" Unfortunately, no elements were overturned and no seas ran back, rhe air didn't shake and there wasn’t any fire to quench. The earth did tremble somew hat but that was from the force of Blaire's foot striking when he stomped it. Blaire threw open his eyes at the final word and looked around the bare concrete walls. He saw nothing, and his heart began to sink at another failure to summon the spirits he sought. But then the door which divided his mother's laundry room from the rest of the basement opened. A fair and human shape stepped out. A youngish blonde man in the same state of undress as Blaire walked across the bare floor and stood before him. “You wanted something, boy?" the apparition said in an aggravated tone. The man was anything but a deformed and ugly shape. He was as chiseled as a Michelangelo, as handsome as a teen idol and as naked as a centerfold. “Yes." Blaire stammered, in awe of the young man's golden beauty. “I’ve been assaulted by a succubus." “Succubus, huh?" said the man. contorting a pursed smile to one side. “Did he bugger you?" “If you mean sodomized, yes," Blair said aggrieved. “And I’m tired of him sneaking into my room at night." 1'he youth placed his chin between his thumb and forefinger and mused. “You talked to your priest about ’im?" he asked at length. "He didn't believe me. Said I was making it up and had an ovcractive imagination." “Hmm." the youth said. “We haven’t had any problems with them for a while, few centuries at least. 1 thought the old man took care of that." “Well, 1 don’t know about that, but one got me and 1 had to go to the library and look up to see what kind of demon he was." “Smart boy. Blaire. Shows some thinking." The young man stood there for a while, remembering his last encounters with succubi demons. He knew of this annoying practice some of them had of sodomizing young boys, often rendering their victims helpless in confronting them, eventually becoming the sole source of their gratification. The succuba, the female of the species, were no less inclined to inflict their peculiar habits upon young girls.

“How many times has this succubus bothered you. Blaire?" “'Bout a dozen times," the boy replied. "Comes sneaking out of my closet." "That's different. They usually fly in through a window." “Not this one. Always comes out of my closet." “Seems everybody’s doing that these days," the young man mused. “What's he look like?" “He’s handsome, big. older than you." Blaire stated matter-offactly. “But not so good looking. Can I come out of this circle now?" “Sure, that only gets me here." the blonde youth said. Blaire stepped over the chalk mark and asked. “What’s your name anyway?" "Asmodae, but my friends just call me. Modie.” “Think you can help me. Modie?" Blaire asked, immediately placing himself as one of the young man’s friends. “Probably. But I’ve gotta check upstairs first." “You mean the closet?" “No. of course not," Asmodae retorted. “You know, up there." he said with a toss of his head and an upward rolling of his eyes. “Oh." was all that Blaire could say. Asmodae stood silently for some minutes, his blue-green eyes closed. “Okay," he finally said. “Now let’s have a look at that closet." Blaire began dressing and looked anxiously at Asmodae. “Ain’t you gonna put nothing on?" he asked nervously. "Nobody can see me but you, Blaire," Asmodae replied. “Unless you want me to. If it makes you uncomfortable.” “You’re just fine," Blaire said, shrugging into his tee shirt. He adjusted his glasses. “Let’s go.” The two climbed the stairs and came out into the kitchen where Blaire’s mother was just opening the oven door and checking on a frozen apple pie she’d put in for dessert. “There you are, Blaire. I’ve been looking high and low for you,” she said impatiently. Blaire. after assuring himself that she really couldn’t see Asmodae, said, “Just studying. Mom.” “Whyever in the basement, boy?” she asked, tossing her potholder onto the stove. “Cooler there,” he replied. “Gonna be in my room for a while." Blaire led the naked Asmodae down the hallway and into his room w'here he locked the door and turned on the Miller Beer light which his father had brought him from the neighborhood tavern he frequented, that being the most descriptive verb for his visits there. “He always comes out at midnight,” Blaire said as he swung open the closet door for Asmodae’s inspection. Asmodae pulled the string on

H uckleberry Finn

the light and peered around inside, at length burying his head unoer Blaire's hanging shirts. “Nice shirts," he said in a muffled voice. Blaire didn’t answer but stared at his butt Asmodae finished his examination and backed out of the closet. “Smells mce in there. Good cedar lining." “Did you see anything?" Blair asked expectantly. “Enough." Asmodae said dismissively. “You lied to your mother about what you were doing in the basement, Blaire. Do you have any homework?" “Yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?" “Let’s do it now. I'll help you." So Asmodae and Blaire sat on his twin bed. and Asmodae helped him with several math questions he didn't understand. Blaire went in to dinner when he was called and left Asmodae in his room. His father didn’t show up till the meal wras nearly finished and then grumbled about the meat loaf being cold and the beer being warm. Blaire went back to his room. “How was dinner?" Asmodae asked, as Blaire flopped to his belly on the bed. Asmodae was sitting at the rickety little desk which Blaire”s father had built for him back before the “problem" (the word his mother used) began. “Fine," Blaire answered desultorily. “You sure this succubus demon is the biggest problem you’ve got. Blaire?" Asmodae asked gently. “Yep," the boy answered laconically. “You gonna spend the night with me?" “For as long as I can, Blaire," Asmodae said. “Wanna play cards, Modie?" Asmodae and Blaire played rummy until Blaire’s mother looked in and reminded him he had school the next day. “It’s ten o ’clock; so put away your solitaire,” she said. Blaire stripped down to his Jockeys and climbed into bed. Asmodae was so light and agile that Blaire barely felt his weight as he slid into bed behind him and held the boy around the waist. “There’s nothing to worry about, Blaire," Asmodae whispered into his ear. “I’ll be right here. Goodnight." He kissed the boy on the neck and Blaire snuggled closer to him. Blaire just managed to turn his head from the pillow and whisper good-night as well before he fell into a dreamless sleep. The next morning, Blaire persuaded Asmodae to accompany him to school. “—just in case he shows up there." His first period class went by quickly enough after Blaire got used to having the naked young man sitting in the empty seat beside him. He giggled to himself as they changed classes, walking beside Asmodae through the crowded halls without any of the other students or teachers seeing his new friend with him. He was lucky enough to find a table by himself at lunch time and sat across from Asmodae discussing history and literature. “I think Huckleberry Finn is the greatest book ever written by an American,” Asmodae said. “Yeah," Blaire concurred. “Wouldn’t it be great to have a friend like Huck? Don’t you just love that name, Huck? Sounds like the greatest friend in the world, huh Modie?" Asmodae agreed and put that idea into the back of his head for future reference. In math class, Blaire got an A-plus on his homework and smiled secretly at Asmodae as the teacher announced it. On the way home after school, Blaire was rewarded with a rare feeling of sweet revenge. The school bully, Johnny Gash, cornered him in the alley just down from his house. This had become a pattern over the years. Johnny Gash was just plain ornery, as hateful as his name, mean as a junkyard dog, and so forth. H e’d been held back twice and was two years older than Blaire. His face resembled two miles of bad road, scowling all the time. Between the acne craters and a scar which tore through his left eyebrow like a streak of lightening, he looked like a young gangster. Even in the nineties, he still wore a greasy duck-tail. His hair was as black as his temper. He was mad at the world, a chip on his shoulder so big you could make two-by-fours out of it. Johnny Gash had been bullying Blaire since grade school. When Blaire was much younger, he would waylay him in the cinder alley they both used to walk to school. If Blaire had been old enough to file income tax, he could’ve used him as a deduction, so much lunch money had he parted with. It got so he would walk up to Blaire and hold out his hand. Blaire felt like a wimp but handed it over every time. Johnny would stuff it in his pants and walk off without saying diddly-squat to him. Blaire was grateful when they put Johnny in the juvenile detention center.

But he wasn’t aware that he'd been released. The cinders in the alley crunched under Blaire's feet as he entered the rutted lane which ran behind his house. Asmodae seemed not to notice as his bare feet encountered them. Suddenly. Johnny Gash jumped out from a clump of red and white hollyhocks, scattering them all over the gravel, and stood in Blaire's path. "Be needing some money for weed." he said, holding out his palm. “When’d they let you out?" Blaire asked quarrelsomely. “This morning," Johnny said impatiently. “C'mon. now. I'm in a hurry." But Blaire, casting a sidelong glance to assure himself that Asmodae was still there, instead of meekly handing Johnny his money as in the past, opened his fly and began urinating on the older boy. He peed right on Johnny’s leg. “What the fuck!" Johnny gasped, jumping back and losing his balance. His feet skittered in the loose cinders and he sprawled onto his back. Blaire advanced on him, still spraying his urine in streaming yellow arcs as he walked. Johnny scrambled backward and jackknifed to his feet. It felt to Blaire that his bladder had never been so full, and he directed his spray with more force, striking Johnny in the chest and laughing maniacally. “Jesus, man! You're crazy as a loon," Johnny gasped, turning on his heels and running away. “I doubt he’ll go around blabbing that you peed on him," Asmodae said, chuckling loudly. "Whup ass!" Blaire shouted, bounding into the air and drawing his fist down and backward in an arc. Asmodae bent to the cinder ground and came up with two hollyhock blossoms. He stuck the red one in Blair’s shirt pocket and the white he solemnly handed him. “Here, champ," he said. Blaire's father did not come home at all that night, but Blaire worried about it less than he had in the past. He once more slept in Asmodae’s arms without any incident occurring. After the fifth such night, and no appearance of the succubus demon, Asmodae sat Blaire down in front of him. “Now. Blaire," he said seriously. “There’s another boy who needs me for a while. I'm going to have to leave you." “But you can’t, Modie," Blaire wailed. “The succubus will get me again." “I think maybe you can handle him yourself, Blaire. But just to

A boy who was dressed in short raggedy pants and a likewise tattered shirt, looking exactly like the illustration in Blaire’s Nxik, walked out of the closet as Asmodae threw it open with a flourish. “'Lo. Blaire," Huck Finn said. “Been hearing ‘bout your little problem.” Blaire hastened to grab Huck’s outstretched hand and shook it vigorously.

“You two get to know one another. I’ve gotta be going," Asmodae said as he left them and headed for the basement laundry room. Blaire sat in his room until late that night, not even leaving when he heard his father stagger in and his mother call him to dinner. He begged off with the excuse of feeling ill, and his mother seemed just as glad he didn’t appear. “My old man’s ’at way too," Huck said after listening to Blaire’s father shout at the boy. “Was, anyhow." “You ever sorry about what you done, running off and all, worrying folks?" Blaire asked. “Nope. S’pect ever’ boy ought’n to," Huck said. “I’s just lucky’ta hook up with Nigger Jim." “We don't say that anymore, Huck," Blaire said, wincing at the word. “Sorry, I forget. But Jim and me knows each other better’n anybody, he’s my, ah —best friend." Blaire stifled the reton of actually saying, “Some of my best friends— " Instead, he said, “How about Tom Sawyer? Thought he was your best fnend. What happened?" “Ain’t nothing exactly happened. We just sorta growed apart," Huck explained. “See, after Jim and me -- uh, well - got real close anyhow, Tom started shying away from us. ’Fraid folks’d be yapping.” “Ain’t much changed," Blaire said ruefully, falling in with Huck’s manner of speaking. Huckleberry Finn’s arms Fit a little differently than Asmodae’s across Blaire’s thin chest that night. But he wasn’t bothered by the succubus demon. In school the next day, Blaire led Huck to the library and had him make his mark on the First page of the book by Mark Twain. Beneath it, he printed Huck’s name. “Man, that old school won’t know what a treasure they’ve got," he exclaimed as they walked back to his English class. Blaire regretted not having a friend in school close enough to con Fide his secret to. It was the middle of the night when Blaire awoke with a start. He and Huck scrabbled under the covers and sat rigidly upright as the light flashed on, the bedroom door slammed shut with a crash and an angry voice boomed ou t “Fucking goddamn sissy for a son!” Blaire’s father stood panting and winded just inside the door. His face was liverish and his mouth worked like a wide-mouthed bass’s thrown to the bottom of a boat. Blaire had a poster of the latest teen idol hanging on the back of his door. His father ripped it down, tearing the glossy paper right across the navel of the boy. He loomed large above them. His shadow darkened the bed. His dark silhouette was like the prow of an invincible ship drawing toward them. His liquor breath assaulted Blaire’s senses. He had a bloody knife in his hand. The knife descended in a swift falling arc. Blaire raised his arm to shield his face. The knife never made it that far. Huck’s arm swung in a roundhouse circle and caught Blaire’s father at the wrist with a powerful punch. The knife spun from his hand and landed on the crumpled poster, still dribbling blood. Blaire knew it was his mother’s even before he heard the sirens and the little house was Filled with cops. The HRS worker who led Blaire away was kind and wellintentioned, albeit misinformed. “Don’t blame yourself, honey," the youngish woman with the plain face said. “You did well in calling us and keeping anything worse from happening to your mother.” Huck barely made it into the back seat as she closed the car door. Blaire would have to be in the juvenile home until his mother had sufficiently recovered from her wounds to Find them a place. It wasn’t so bad. He and Huck played cards a lot, and the food was all right. Blaire didn’t much care for his roommate, an older boy who was sullen and withdrawn. Strangely, with Huck around him, Blaire didn’t seem the awkward, introverted and bookish lad he had been. Rather, he got on well with the other boys and was popular for the First time in his life. His keen wit came to the fore, and he entertained his new friends with tales of such wondrous magic that he was sought out and genuinely liked. Huck always laughed loudest at his ribald jokes, though no one else heard him. Blaire’s roommate was transferred and a new boy named Mark took his place. Mark had bandages on his wrists, and Blaire wondered aloud about that. “First time I tried it," Mark said. Blaire and Huck were sitting on Blaire’s bed, their feet dangling

over the edge. Huck poked Blaire in the ribs. “He needs a friend worse than you," he unnecessarily whispered. That night, when Mark slipped into Blaire’s bed. there was barely enough room for all three of them. But Huck was able to hold both the boys in his strong young arms while they slept spooned together. The next morning over breakfast. Huck told Blaire he had to leave. “N —, Jim will be missing me." Blaire understood and, back in their room together. Mark and Blaire waved good-by to Huck as he stepped into the closet, leaving them alone. “You’ve got real pretty eyes without your glasses," Mark said, removing them.

Ambivalence on a Lost State of Grace 1.

A youth required a smile and stood before Me in such innocence as I once knew But now confounded. Thus it was a chore To answer in a spirit half as true. All crushed, like Hadrian’s Wall, was my defense, And, as those Piets and Scots of ancient days Descended on the civilized Roman sense, So natural honesty engaged my ways. Sophistocation slaughtered by the chaste Advances of a modest, humorous tone, Vague recollections, not to be erased, Of noble, carefree hours came trembling home. The prodigal joys of prepubescent years Are of such stuff as prompted Eden’s tears.

Young boy, you are but half your full-fledged size And yet you seek with a precocious aim, Although unconsciously, to moist my eyes And stir the very foundation of my frame With anxious questioning. Is there a prize That I and my compatriots in age Are unfit for by virtue of our guise? Your untried innocence forbids my rage And tempers my reply; for, knowledge gained. Experience applied, you will assent Maturity's decree that we are chained. In existential second-bests are spent So cease your constant unabashed refrain. For you, as all, will lose what you now gain. - A. Vera 50

K e ith & K h ir in th e M ir r o r â&#x201A;Ź> Jan L yn ch

1994

B r e n t, n u d e

Jan

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Jan Lynch

19 91

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Jan

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1994

J a n

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Maude, the Flirt

® Jan Lynch 1973

Self-Portrait

©Jan Lynch

S h a d e s

P.O. Box 8196, Knoxville, TN 37996.

G r e y

Ja n Lynch m akes his living as a ph otograp her for the M cC lung C ollection, an official archive for Knox C ounty, T N , w h ere he recently served as T e chn ical Aovisor and p h otograp her for the county's bicentennial co m m em o rativ e book. O n the side, he is th e principal p h otograp her for Query, T e n n e s s e e 's only statew ide new sw e ekle y. To contact him, write : Jan Lynch,

Angel Collins doing 'Camp Drag'

TAKING NOTICE Clearly these m om ents co-exist continuously when the m ist h angs huge on the m ountain trees decipher the in tricacies o f green this finch visits table sh elf sink th is house adheres without philosphy. Surely all sh im m ers com m only w ith d istinction with resolution and we are lost only by choosing.

A. V e ra

CRUCIFIXION BEATS SUICIDE? long turgid sk etch es of your so-called loving asphyxiate my brain make sick spells every hour on the hour â&#x20AC;&#x201D; the night grows ANGRY in its burning unnatural acts, a part of your fantasies you will never know how bad I'm scarred by the f a 1 1 urge . . . com pulsion â&#x20AC;&#x201D; 1 just want to sm ear SMEAR your slim y picture all over scabby garbage-prick color mirror don't even dare look out at the broken down w as me

MAKING THE BED The sh ee ts are like two sh eets of paper. Our b odies like two words, The p en is a com m a That gives u s pause Before we b egin our sentence.

J im D e W it t

P h ilip W a t s o n K u e p p e r D r a w in g s b y F r a n k B u r g e r 55

THE CASHIER IN THE SPORTING GOODS STORE Baiting me w ith one glance, enough to bury the hook, you have no in tention s but to sn eer me to the dirt to gasp and thrash around, the angler angled. Still. 1 can’t not sigh, can't not stare. Are you deeper than a sardine tin, I w in der? The fit of your skin o b se sse s me like the beauty that yanked once, w'hipped the pole double, and sh one in the water, lithe, iridescent, never to com e hom e su cculent to my table w ith butter and capers (that fabled T hanksgiving), never to yield to my lips one sweet nibble.

J .R . K a n g a s

HEARING THE ECHO Spend Spend Spend Spend

a rainforest on a hamburger. an ozonelayer on a refrigerator. a m ountainrange to buy an electric range. a thousand-year-old tree on a lifetim e’s supply of chopsticks. Spend a generation of youngm en in World War 1 so World War II won't happen. Buy a tuna sandw ich with a slaughtered dolphin. Buy an airconditioner with a runaway G reenhouse Effect. Spend the Great Lakes to p o sse ss a Jacuzzi. Spend the best years of a hum anbeing's life in a factory as a factoryworker praising your job w hile your great-great grandfather's boyorgasm cries exist som ew here w aiting for you to hear the echo of their echo. Purchase furcoats with deathcries of endangered sp ecies. Spend the su spend ed sen ten ces of execution to deathrow inm ates on exciting new advertising for skyrocketing cigarette sales in Third World countries. Spend the asto n ish ed look of delight in a baby's eyes on car-bom bs that deliberately disfigure the u n su sp ectin g victim. Spend the vows of lifelong love made by an innocent boy and girl on new improved body bags for our dead soldiers that are guaranteed not to leak or burst.

PARASITIC BROTHER IN DRAG A m assing fortunes with h is handicap, Laloo the Hindu headlined Barnum's troupe. The parasitic twin w hich Nature'd strapped above h is belt — its lim bs and torso drooped like puppets' from h is ribs, its shrunken head subm erged in sid e — Laloo routinely dressed in frilly drag. Such m asquerading led the crowds to think he had h is sister pressed forever to h is heart. The leech avenged itself by p issin g when it pleased or with erections sprung at w ill It's said the twin p o ssessed a greater one. Well, that's the myth.

A n t le r

But nightly, w hile the brother freely slept, h is stom ach swelled w ith tears the sister wept.

R a n d y B r ie g e r

“I w as here sin ce the beginning, and for the first five years I had fun. but as they started dropping off I becam e more responsible. Now I'm the only one left.1 He said, lately I've b een living on the edge of con scio u sn ess. He said. I'm still looking for my savior. He will look a bit like me. a bit like Jesu s. He'll be a top. he daid, and fuck me w ithout a condom.

(reflecting on Rory's funeral, deciding not to attend)

He siad h is blood count w as low, (My life had stood a loaded gun) He Said. If only he had known, waited If only the sun had show n more in October, Novem ber the q uietest month, I would have b een more carefuL

The house I am m aking Started building only' five years ago Crumbles even as I lay the cornerstone, erect the pillars

If I'd known what he'd m eant by the lighthouse, (One should always have a lover to haunt him) If I'd known the dunes would b u m my fe e t If I could rem em ber how to cry at funerals. If I knew that I w ould be the la st

The brothers of this m ansion Collapse under the in visib le weight Of m ultiple op pressions and HIV N either as yet rem ediable 1 m ight have started this house m any years before if only som eone had assured me that to be alive is all required for love

C h r is t o p h e r M o e s

But instead I w as led to aspire to blond and blue, opposite sex And thus wasted decades trying desperate to be other than my born self

AT THE CUSP la m

h e r e in

RORY

th e d a r k p o o l g a z in g u p .

It has been a case of bad timing: I m ight have shared love w ith friends Double sisters and brothers long before AIDS cam e on the scen e to take them from me.

Uranus pours h is bounty down on me. I swallow and breathe in alm ost the sam e motion; I gulp and drink h is gorgeous gift.

R o b e r t E a r l P e n n , «Jr.

W ith a il m y s tr e n g t h I p u s h m y b o d y in t o th e s h in in g a ir , a n d f a il b a c k .

Oh to lie b esid e him embrace w ith h is own warm arms, k iss w ith lips so unlike these hard m echanical hinges! A day or two before — I have been som eone else — the beautiful boy who gazes and loses h im self into my bed. O n e d a y th e fis h e r m a n

ill c o m e

a n d c a r r y m e h o m e b y th e r o p e t h a t t ie s m e t o m y s e lf

S a m F a it t i

FROTTAGE w ind through birches first soft then gathers to greet the storm w hite bark against a thicket

K e n n e th P o b o

Soak lace in your paint and then lay it onto the fabric.

G E N T L E M A N 'S CHOICE: P r in tin g Y our O w n Fabric* Steven L. Ilerg

Dip a string into your paint. Let it curl onto your fabric. Then, pull it straight.

One way to make our quilts special is to print our own fabric. The printing process is easier than many imagine and Summer is an ideal time to collect printing supplies. In addition to printing fabric which will eventually make its way into quilts, the printing process can be used on clothes to give them a unique look. In order to print, you need a piece of fabric (or a shirt, pair of pants, dress), paints, and items which will be used to make an impression. SUPPLIES YOU NEED TO PRINT YOUR OWN FABRIC Fabric: Cotton fabrics work best because they are very absorbent, but any type of fabric can be used with some success as long as they are not treated to be stain resistant. Be sure to wash the fabric before you begin to print. Many m odern fabrics have a stiffener in them to make sewing easier. If you print on fabric which has not been washed, your print will wash out with the stiffener. Depending on the project you are doing, you might want to cut the fabric into pieces the size you need for your quilt before you start to print. Or, you can print the entire piece of fabric to be cut up later. Whole cloth quilts which are hand printed are also nice. And I once made a table cloth by printing an entire piece of fabric with a bright design. Faints: I prefer to use oil paints when I print fabric. The main advantage to oil paints is that they have a vivid color and they hold up better when you wash the fabric. T here are two disadvantages to oil paints. First, they can be a bit stiff when they dry. And second, they can take a long time to dry. T here are now'

Please let me know what you think of "G entlem anâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Choice." Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d especially welcome photographs of you and/or your quilts. Just as we were going to print, a reader requested a pattern. It will be included in the next issue.

A wad o f tissue dipped in paint and then blotted onto fabric.

The heart was cut from a piece o f textured fabric which was soaked in paint and then placed onto the fabric.

A feather.

several products on the market which, when added to water base paints make them permanent. I have had mixed success with these products. Sometimes the paint has held up well through a washing. At other times, the paints have washed out. There are also special fabric paints which you can buy at craft shops and fabric stores. These are often too thin for printing, but if the object you are printing is very absorbent, they can work well. I te m s to P rin t: I will sometimes cut my own blocks when I print fabric, but I also know that I can print with any item that can be used to transfer paint to the fabric. Many of us did potato prints when we were children. Those potatoes still work as do most garden vegetables, leaves, feathers, cork, rope, and much more. HOW TO PRINT YOUR OWN FABRIC <£> <D © ©

Wash and dry your fabric. Collect the items you want to use to print your design. Lay your fabric on a flat surface on which you enough room to print. Roll your paint on to a plate, mirror, or some similar hard surface. There are special rollers designed for this, but a used rolling pin, putty knife, or some similar object can be employed. Dip the item you wish to print into the ink. Place the ink soaked item onto the fabric and press down. Repeat the process until you have finished your design. Do not be afraid to combine several items or colors into one design.

Steven L. Berg 675 Oyster Road Rose City, M I 48654

4 *A n evergreen branch dipped into the paint and then dropped onto the fabric. Flowers and leaves \ work well, too. But this article was written in early, early spring when flowers were not yet available.

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\ l \

We are an old people, We are a new people BLO SSO M OF B O S E : R eclaim ing the C onnections Between H om oeroticism and the Sacred. B y Randv / ’. Conner. Harper Collins Publishers. 10 E. 53rd St.. New York. NY 10022. 1993. 352 pgs., illustrated. SIS.00 soft. <=&Reviewed by Hyperion A couple of first-impression comments 1 received from straight women friends to whom I showed this book may be relevant: "You have to know something about this to read it, don't you?” and “ You're not a minister, are you?” The answer to the first question was "Probably yes” and to the second, “ No,” but indeed this is an involved work and one that requires a broad understanding of sacred experience, or at least an open mind. Randy (a former RED fiction editor) has done a masterful job of tracing the intertwining threads of homoeroticism, gender variance, and sacred roles back through the furthest reaches of human history and into the present day. He does acknowledge those of the Judeo-Christian tradition in parts of the book, but usually in terms of their role in holocausts such as during the Renaissance and Baroque periods when "burning sodomites lit the night” along with witches, philosophers, magicians, and others. Truly, one really has to look into the pagan traditions and to the world of creative, artistic expression to find any real sustenance, validation, and positive history as a gay person. This book is a major contribution to that end, and very well researched, as evidenced by the abundant notes and large bibliography. Randy has also made a definite effort to make this a cross-cultural study. Oriental, Black, and Latino readers certainly won't feel left out. The Native American berdaches and the hijras of India are only briefly mentioned, since these have been extensively covered in other works. I did find m yself hungry for more information about A ustralian, Indonesian, South Sea Island, and South American aboriginal peoples who might express the traits covered in this book, but perhaps another author will take up that task. Considering the way “gay” may be defined in the present time, especially by those who see a gay lifestyle as a culturally constructed behavior, digging up the roots of our people may seem to involve a great deal of speculation. However, I think you will agree after reading this book— anchored by the often repeated theme and basis of research- that no, we do have a past, we do have ancestors, there is a continuum. In Randy’s words: “ ...the linking between male gender variance, homoeroticism, and sacred role or function has repeatedly surfaced across cultures and epochs. Those embodying the domain, while dw-elling in the shadows, the wings, or the spaces between the texts, have not been entirely erased.” Even though sometimes culturally marginalized, they have often played an important and integral role within the spiritual traditions of their societies. The carnivalesque aspect, altered states of consciousness, animal transformation, and the elements of mystery and chaos also enter into the discussion— as does the realm of artistic expression: “With the emergence of the Renaissance, the elder gods discovered a refuge in the world of art, and the gender-variant priest reappeared as the homoerotically inclined artist who depicted the interrelationship of androgyny, homoeroticism, and the sacred (often a blend of Christianity and paganism) in his works, often in sublimated form.” I relished the introductions before each of the four parts of the book. They are a welcome complement to the almost overwhelming feast of information, and in them Randy’s creative spirit really shines— particularly in the tragic inquisition of Moon Dweller, drawn from actual historical documents. Other sections 1 especially enjoyed were Qu Yuan’s honoring of the water goddesses in his flower-decked boat; the behavior of the galli of Cybele “ said to speak in shrill tones, to lisp, to giggle and whisper, to use obscene language, to employ women's oaths, and to address each other in the feminine gender” [See accompanying review o f Bone fo r more on the galli.J; the Gnostic use of Biblical passages to justify homoeroticism; and the link between Germanic wolf warriors and werewolves. Many intriguing linguistic relationships and word chains are discussed in Randy’s detective work, and we also learn about the kim b a n d a, the izangom a, the durgarru, the q ed esh im , the m egabyzoi, the enarees, seidrmen, minstrels, sots, fools, the ciliuayollo, the Yoruba patron deities of gay people, the Radical Faeries, and many others. There is much interesting insight involving individuals such as King Rufus, King Henry III, Shelley, Thoreau, Whitman, Wilde, Crowley, and others. 60

Blossom o f Bono gives plenis of food for thought, such as this analysis of Aleister Crowley's work: “Crow ley also came to believe that the power of heterosexuality lay in reproduction, whereas the power of homosexuality lay in the shamanic experiences of transformation and death/rebirth. Related to this, he viewed heterosexual relations as extending outw ard (as to children) and homosexual relations as creating a circuit or loop of magical energy or power.” 1 consider this quote from ga\ Yoruba priest Guillermo Gonzalez very relevant to the overall focus of the book: “ ‘The gay subculture in the United States needs to open itself up to many more [visibilities.. .than the few that we began to conform to after Stonewall. To reach out to all people. To create ties among all communities. The movement, up to this point, has been mainly white and upper-class oriented. Most of us are neither rich nor white. We must create bridges. If there's one thing I want to get across, it’s this: Be vulnerable, get close, love.'" Also, with all the controversy surrounding gay identify and etiological determination these days, both within gay rights and consciousness groups and within the scientific community, the discussion in the book’s conclusion involving quantum physics, holographic theory, and chaos theory was especially fascinating and revealing. Quoting from Randy’s summation of the topic of gay identity: "It seems to me that the core of the mystery of our domain may lie betw een the concept of a relatively constant third or fourth gender identity and that of gender-bending behavior and erotic fluidity. In my view, these two concepts may coexist simultaneously, albeit in a paradoxical manner, w ithin the psyche." And last but not least, it seems one of my major spirit teachers, whom I connected with through shamanic drumming, could be identified with Inanna. I didn’t know that until I read this book. I've always just called her Faerie-Owl Woman. So. there may tie a few surprises for you too! Yes, this book will fit nicely on my shelf along with Arthur Evans' Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture and Walter Williams’ The Spirit and the Flesh, and I'm sure I will refer to it often. Thank you Randy for bringing so much into the light. / W V V V V W V W W <=* and from a review o f Blossom of Bone by Joe Lawrence Lembo One of my favorite chapters in the book is “Sons of Earth," which focuses on the Roman goddess Cybele and her galli (or gender-variant priests) who engaged in same-sex eroticism. They also paid homage to Cybele’> youthful male consort, Attis who was often depicted as a handsome goatherd or shepherd playing the pipes or dancing with wings. Attis was compared to Pan and other vegetation deities. The galli always dressed in a combination of feminine and sacred attire, much like the Radical Faeries do today at most rituals, celebrations, and gatherings. They also wore exquisite jewelry, ankle bracelets, and pierced ears (often associated w ith bondage). They wore makeup, plucked their eyebrows, and outlined their eyes with kohl. They practiced depiliation, wore rich oils and perfumes, and were nicknamed "the longhaired ones.” They were known for their swaying hips when they walked and addressed one another in the feminine gender. They were often itinerant freedmen of poor economic class who travelled in caravans and at each destination set up altars or shrines to the Goddess. They would dance, sing, chant, and tell fortunes in exchange for coins, cheese, and wine. Also known as "half-men.” the galli lived their lives as holy beggars who practiced the Old Religion (paganism). They frequently lived in the wilderness and considered the mountain forests their true home, much like our modem day Faerie Sanctuaries. These gender-variant priests were often associated w ith hierodules (sacred prostitutes) and courtesans. And besides just focusing on phallic pleasure, they also celebrated oral, anal and cliioral pleasures. They engaged in cultic homoeroticism and sexual union to “receive the inner-most essence and power of a God.” Ritual castration was generally required of the galli in order to more closely resemble the Goddess, and as a sacrifice to fructify the earth in spring. In the latter days of Cybele’s worship, castration w<as no longer required and phallic-shaped loaves of bread were used as offering instead. They fulfilled artistic functions, e.g. ritual poets, musicians, dancers, artists, and actors. They often sang in a high pitched, shrill, or falsetto voice which, in a sacred context, could induce altered states or spiritual transformation. Their favorite musical instruments included flutes, cymbals, and panpipes and their erotic dance was much like belly dancing. They formed a dance company called “ ballatores Cybele,” performing the myths of the gods and goddesses. 61

Many of the galli were also adept in healing, magic and divinatory arts, employing astrology, gcomancy and interpretation of dreams. Emerging from shamanic death/rebirth experiences, they’d often speak in tongues (galliamtnc). They were gifted as healers to those who were ill, physically disabled or psychologically disturbed They practiced magic, used amulets and talismans, and conjured up spells.

IN PRAISE OF SOUL-FULL LUST

KI tipple ^ f)lc \j

Bringing the book more up-to-date, the chapter "Recollection of What Was Scattered" talks about our contemporary gender-variant heroes: Arthur Evans. James Broughton, The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, Harry Hay, and others. Hay. a co-founder of the Radical Faeries, writes: "We have been a SEPARATE PEOPLE, drifting together in a parallel existence, not always conscious of each other yet recognizing one another by eyelock when we did meet, here and there, as outcasts, Spirit-people, in service of the Great Mother, Shamans, mimes and rhapsodies, poets and playwrights, healers and nurturers, VISIONARIES...REBELS."

movie) Reviewed by Dan Doran 'Hippie Dick! (the movie)" is available in VHS format only from Film at Eleven, 2215-R Market St. U 559, San Francisco, CA 94114. Running time: approx. 75 min.;Cost: $49.95 in cash, check, money order or ’barter" (?). Include statement that buyer is o f legal age in his state of residence.

This past year I've viewed endless hours of gay porn videos. It became part of my job. An unlikely story, admittedly. But in this case, actually true. I'm a mental health counselor with a project called the "Men Who Have Sex with Men Healthful Living Program." Its aim is to foster the well-being of members of "our tribe” here in Northeastern Michigan. The approach is holistic. You might consider it one of those exceedingly rare instances when tax dollars 5) something of benefit for us. Before obtaining this work, porn held little interest. My acquaintance with it was slight. It aroused no strong feelings one way or another. However, after reading a fascinating discussion headed up by Cindy Patton ("Safe Sex and the Pornographic Vernacular"), curios ity got the best of me. Stationed before a VCR - finger on the remote's fast-forward or reverse - - 1 scrutinized miles of tape, on the look-out for depictions of no-/low-risk sexual behaviors. The plan was to use video snippets to facilitate an easier flow of feelings and ideas during our project’s "Healthy Sex Workshops." But this endeavor yielded a low return on a considerable investment of time. Watching the pom, my initial reaction was one of simple boredom. Most of what I saw was remarkably vapid and vacant. Bruce LaBruce, creator of the fine film "No Skin Off My Ass", came to mind. LaBruce has remarked how he "consciously tried to make something that was pom, or verged on pom, as a kind of reaction against gay pornography" since he too found "95% of it just vacuous." Likewise, I was reminded of the oft-quoted observation of Joseph Kramer that "most of Western sex is necrophilia: one dead body having sex with another dead body." Prior to exploring what it seems are the largely uncharted lands of gay video, I would have heard these comments as hyperbole. Now they ring true, with preciseness. Having examined literally hundreds of tapes, it would now surprise me if your typical gay porn video didn't reinforce and intensify any internalized homophobia from which a viewer might be suffering. In fact, that seems the minimum harm it could do. But, there's good news! "Hippie Dick!" proves video can be a vehicle for exuberantly self-affirming homoerotica. It would be difficult to conceive of a more untypical gay sex film than this offering from producer Gene Barnes. HD! breaks through the confines of conventional pom's market mentality. Its homoerotic imagery is not an object to be owned but rather an event to be entered into. It is process, as opposed to product, oriented. Run-of-the-mill gay video shuts out the viewer. Involvement in the action As a rule, the torso is presented as out of reach, glaringly lit as a flattened surface. Should a performer "trace the line of pleasure from nipple to pubes" (Ginsberg), the electric eye refuses to follow the gesture. No matter what its placement, the camera continues to stare straight ahead. It merely frames the movement, if the viewer is even that lucky. It never joins in. Hardly ever will a performer look into the lens

This chapter also deals with what the author calls the third gender. And disco-diva Ru Paul is quoted: "Drag is the ultimate in power dressing. When you're in drag you become the God of your imagination, and that's powerful medicine, baby! I'm definitely a ruling diva when I'm in my Goddess drag. My masculinity really comes out when I use my Goddess drag. With my drag I encompass both male and female. I become a microcosm ot the whole universe, the yin and the yang, and people pick up on that and are enthralled by the power." In discussing the 'carnivalesque" aspect of Radical Faerie behavior. Dr. le o Martel to states (in Fireheart Journal): "There is greater Magick, that is the magick of humor, of laughter...the sacredness of silliness. Wouldn't Miss Piggy make a marvelous High Priestess? Or imagine Mae West greeting a visiting |Wiccan) high priest in that undulating way of hers, asking, 'Is that an athame [ritual knife] in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?’" Bert Provost says (in Discovering Queer Archetypes), "I've grown tired of the divine heterosexual couple of contemporary Paganism. While I continue to invoke a variety of spirits both male and female, the emphasis is on linking them to my queemess. I might invoke the Goddess as a Sacred Bitch, Dyke Sister or Mother of Faggots. Her relationship to male spirits is anything but 'traditional.' The God I call on has a variety of names. He is the Rising Pillar of Flesh, the Open Hand, Boyfriend. Lover, and Gate of Pleasure." So it sounds to me that the gaili were indeed the prototype or first Radical Faeries, and no faerie bookshelf would be complete without this fascinating volume. The book is full of well-researched scholarly writing and is sure to become a respected classic in its field and in the liberation of ail human beings. Blessed Be, Cybele!

Scenes from (} f\p p > \e CD ( l l j e movie) 62

and, hence, at the viewer. If done accidentally, a blinking and quick tum-away follows. On the odd occasion when apparently directed to do so, the performer’s gaze is far from inviting. It seems intended to keep the onlooker in his place. The distance felt between viewer and action is fortified Like a peasant permitted to witness the games of nobles, the pom-viewer is strictly confined to spectatorship. In contrast to the torso, the ever-erect cock is ordinarily shot in close-ups. The focus is limited to penetration and "the ole in-out, inout" ("A Gockwork Orange"). There are times the image borders on rectal photomicroscopy. It’s no accident. I'll bet, that cocksucking is usually filmed from a side angle close-up or from a far comer of the room. The lack of expression in the eyes of the fellator, if seen from a face-on close-up, would betray the emotional emptiness of the action taking place. Ordinary gay pom presents the performers’ bodies as high-tech machines. Sexual activity equals the efficient functioning of this machinery. The mechanical operations are geared to manufacturing a single product: orgasm (orgasm having been reduced to ejaculation). The bodies are at once instruments and commodities of mass production. As instrument, they are nothing more than an assemblage of pans serving only as casing and controls for the more important equipment of cock, mouth and asshole. As commodity, the pom-body has the look of any mass-produced device: stamped out of synthetically hard material according to uniform shapes. They represent about as much variety as different brands of the same power tool. For the sake of immoderate profits by the production companies, the actors are manipulated as abstractions, supposedly representing "ideal" concepts ("Boy Next Door," "Dangerous Trade," "Beach Bum," etc.). Personal identity is non-existent. They are merely "screens" onto which viewers project fantasies covertly controlled by the video-makers. Their bodies are fetishes used to exploit the viewer’s sexual agitation. Anyone w ho's ever enjoyed good sex knows that lusty sensuality is inseparable from passionate feeling. Machinery, however efficient, however well tumedout, simply cannot feel. "Hippie Dick!" is an exhilarating celebration of male flesh as the embodiment of feeling. The men appearing here are emphatically real men of flesh and blood. They are embodied personalities; which is to say, they are themselves. What's wonderful is that they delight in being themselves. Sex is for them a shameless sharing of themselves with each other, with the video-makers, and with the viewers. Because they are being themselves, we see things normally censored: a discolored finger nail, thinning hair lines, vein-creased hands, freckles peppering an arm, a chipped tooth, untrimmed pubic hair, a paunchy belly. We see ear studs, neck bandannas, rings on fingers, a medallion resting on a bare chest, hiking boots on an otherwise naked man. We see a man

Dunng the most radiantly lewd episode. Jefferson Airplane relates sensuality with the ironic imperative "Feed your head / Feed your head." Imagine: sex and subtlety in league with each other! The settings are also highly personalized. The men entertain themselves either at home or in the great outdoors. We see Indian cotton prints hanging on walls, lamps draped with fringed scarves, a shrine to Jim Morrison, fires burning, wrool blankets spread on the ground. We see handmade clothing strewn about, a container of sexual lubricant in full view, and peacock feather arrangements. We see fullbody. whole-man orgasms. Specificity reigns! Throughout the video, men feel their own and each other’s flesh with gleeful reverence. They feel with, through, and in flesh. Either the men appearing in HD! arc exceptionally accomplished actors (not likely, given Film at Eleven's restricted budget) or their activity isn't acting. There’s no attempt to hide awareness of the camera; but neither is there exhibitionistic affectation. These men arc obviously familiar w ith every inch of their own and their partner's bodies. They obviously feel good about them. Consequently, there's a whole lot of fun going on. The faces ot the men in HD! register a wide range of sensations and

themselves. These amazingly real and happily naked men embrace, stroke, taste, tickle, inhale and unfold each other. Toes stretch, wiggle, and writhe together. The tip of a nose and forehead is playfully slapped by a half-hard dick. Whiskers brush lightly against dangling balls. An ear gets nibbled. A chin is fondled. Hands slide languorously up and down both sides, from shoulders to ass cheeks. A foot curls on its side. A belly is rubbed with soothing circularity. In and out of the navel darts a glistening tongue. His whole frame sways, squirms, trembles. Palms crawl the spine's length to gently knead the back of the neck. A nose nuzzles under an armpit. Breath bestirs a bushy pubic patch. Forefinger and thumb toy with a nipple. Eyelids quiver. Buttocks are polished by undulating thighs. The upper body of one man lays relaxed over the lap of another, his head cradled in the other's arms. The chest is vigorously massaged. Smiling mouths merge: licking tongues, teeth, lips, mustache. Limbs come from all directions to clasp, lift, jostle, cuddle, and hold fast. "O I say these are not the parts . . . of the body only but of the soul / O 1 say now these are the soul!" By taking with utmost seriousness (not to mention utmost gaiety) the truth of Whitman's words, HD! is a triumph. This review is excerpted from a more comprehensive analysis of gay pom videos entitled "In Praise of Soul-Full Lust." The author will send any reader a copy of the full text, including bibliography and filmography, in exchange for information on other videos which assume a wholistic approach to gay pornography. Contact: Daniel C. Doran, Ph.D, C.S.W. Healthful Living Program 312 Watertower Drive Kincheloe, Ml 49788

repeatedly gift-wrapping his scepter and jewels with leather lacings. We see prolonged deep kissing. The technical aspects of HD! allow the making and viewing of the film to constitute a unified field of experience. Anyone watching this video is continually afforded a participant’s point of view. Where typical pom is stupifyingly static, HD!'s cinematography ceaselessly scans and envelops whole bodies, whole men, exploring in detail not just genitals and hindquarters but every splendid curve and crevice. Tellingly, much attention is paid the look and animation of hands, as well as facial features and expressions. The camera follows the carnal kinetics in perfect sync. Also conducive to viewer involve ment is the considerable use of sequencing freeze-framed shots and slow motion, reserved only for tacked-on "cum shots" in standard fare. Associative editing, cross-cutting, accelerated montage, split-screen imaging, allusion to off-screen space, soft focus, fade-in and -out, chiaroscuro, back lighting, psychedelic colorization and monochromatic scenes all contribute to a lavish vitality. As a result, HD! is to ordinary porn what pageantry is to a peep show. The musical score weaves together shamanic drumming, Baroque violin swirls, newspeak, '60s rock, Gregorian chant, surging rhythms and delicate tones from nature, lushly synthesized choral melodies, and a praying woman's voice (in Gaelic, if I’m not mistaken). Most of the music is instrumental. But when lyrics do arise, they are weighty with meaning. Exhorting the viewer to not hold back, the Beatles intone, "I am he / And you are he / And we are all together."

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â&#x20AC;&#x2DC; Remembering Our Friends and Loved Ones â&#x20AC;&#x2DC; DickevV Lee Stafford by his friends Dickey Lee, age 36, the bright light o f our lives, passed over into the golden light on April 14, 1994 follo w in g a long and brilliant struggle with AIDS. Born in rural West T ennessee, Dickey Lee graduated from M em phis State U niversity in 1980. He taught illu stratio n at the Kansas City Art Institute and moved to San Francisco in 1989. Besides painting he built fu rn itu re , designed jew elry, textiles and sculp tu res and illu strate d greeting cards. Dickey Lee returned to M adison to live with his partner, M ichael, and joyfully p a in te d "every gift o f a day." He was widely known for his whimsical images, exuberant use o f color, and sense o f sacred play and delight that he brought to every aspect of his life. He will be rem em bered by all his many lo v in g friends and fam ily for his S outhern country charm , his patience, his gifts of listening and story telling. He was a brilliant and kind man who taught many o f us t h e gift of unconditional love. He is survived by his partner, M ichael, his loving mother, M arie, his sisters, Linda, Dolly, Debbie, his brother, Jimmy; and by h is brother Eddie and father Edgar.

9 4-63 -

Patrick Hemming

4 26-94 -

Faerie Empress of New Orleans 65

Patrick was born and grew up in L ancaster Pennsylvania. A lover o f plants and esp ecially flow ers, he received a landscape a r c h i t e c t u r e degree from Longw ood G arden College. Taking this special gift for nature, he designed public gardens in P hiladelphia, landscape p r o je c ts for the Cincinnati Zoo, as well as planning and c re a tin g m any private gardens. Always a f ig h te r , he becam e a noted AIDS activist, appearing on television and r a d i o shows, along with hav in g many articles published reg a rd in g the technical asp ects in com b in atio n with his personal experiences w ith this disease. On sev eral o cc asio n s he visited W ashington D.C. as a congressional lobbyist to h e lp increase AIDS funding. In addition to his love o f plants, his interests also included an tiq u es and the hand painting of silks. He spent his last years in New Orleans.

Wally "Gardener" Hilton by

Barbara for

the Martin De Porres Community It is with great sadness that we announce the death o f our fellow com m unity m em ber, W ally Hilton. He died o f AIDS peacefully on January 23, 1994. W ally created Love’s Garden at M artin’s and was part of our com m unity for the last ten years. W ally was a very special, magical person. We all mourn his loss. The

follow ing piece was som ething he w rote about the garden and M artin's. N othing is more fitting then to let W ally speak for him self and for each o f us. We will miss him terribly but in the seeds o f love he sow ed we will rem em ber him in our own bloom ing.

Watering in the Dark by Wally "Gardener" Hilton It is day's end when I arrive this Saturday at Martin’s and - perfect timing, the Sunday morning prep team is locking up. Other Saturday spirits are milling about I hear but don’t see them and I am weary from the stresses of an imminent departure. But last stop. I know, and I am eased to unload the last of many loads, brew a pot of coffee, and smoke cigarettes in the yard. A moment's rest. A long day. And push on. By the time I get the hose out and the water running, the last light is fading quickly. Charlie and I chat by the jasmine about the removal of the billboard that hands overhead, and by the time our conversation ends, it is city dark. The plants have switched gasses for the evening, and stiffen in the cooler cycle of the day. My hand guides the watering wand as much by sense as by memory. I know who is there in each spot, how to reach and rain. I know this from tending our bit of this beautiful earth. I move casually through my routine, enjoying the night glisten as leaves stream wet. I see Martin's at its quiet hour, when only the spirits of the day remain, and am amazed at the lively scene my heart creates as I people the place. There are two favored moments I enjoy most at Martin’s. This is one of them. Martin's at rest. I enjoy the wind and weather when they sweep through and cleanse. My most favorite time though is when I am able to drop in and mill about the yard mingling, or find an out of the way spot to watch the hustle. When the yard is being used by our guests, when the smiles of each service are shared, when we parade naked before each other in spirit and desire, or when we pause to pray, or thank Creation - then I am most fulfilled. To play my special part here, to serve my fragile heart with this garden you have allowed me to grow, have helped me to show, to watch it fill with the bright glisten, the sun to soothe so many faces, to ignite spirit, to watch and know my small part humbles me with gratitude. For me there is always Martin's. Like my hand watering through the dark, Martin's is the refuge my heart may always find, always return to. It is a landscape of love, and repeated understanding, and necessary tending to life's mysterious details.

Back to Iowa

It was not that 1 didn't care. My grandmother and I were fairly riose and we shared a great deal, including some secrets that would have curled my parents hair. On some level, I can say that my brother, cousins, and myselt were able to realize, in our own ways, the freedom from conventions that had limited but not totally smothered my grandmother during her long life. Alas, she was in her mid~80*s, tor goddess’ sake. Her death had delivered her from a great deal of cancer-related pain. She left many friends and relatives who loved her Pardon the cliche, but she had "lived a long and full life." Others I knew had not been so lucky. • Five days before, on the eve of the presidential election, 1 marched with many dozens of fellow AIDS activists with the coffin of my friend Mark, who had died of AIDS-related complications. Ironically, Mark had been an Iowan and was among the group of AIDS activists who had commandeered network news broadcasts during ACT IJP's Day o f Desperation action. From Mark’s memorial at Judson Memorial Church in the Village, we marched with his coffin in intermitent rain up Sixth Avenue ana laid it at the door of Republican headquarters. • The Thursday evening before that, I sat through Paul's memorial at a large SoHo gallery. People spoke, sipped wine, and munched on crudites. Paul, an Australian, had been an incisive writer and art critic. • On the Sunday before, 1 had gone to an “open house” for C oleman (aka, Keith), who had lived a block aw;ay from me when I lived in Brooklyn. Best known for his work in pom films, he was additionally a talented artist. And there had been even more in the weeks previous. By the time 1 made it to that rural church in Iowa, my tear well was dry. As it began to snow, my grandmother was buried in a cemetary that held three generations of my family, starting with my great-great grandfather. All around me people cried yet again in a final good-bye. Grateful when the ritual was over, I made for the vehicle that brought me back to the church. What a dinner the local UMW (United Methodist Women) had prepared! Among a selection of Midwestem “comfort foods," was my favorite: string beans baked in cream sauce with onion rings on top. While I’ve never cut myself off from my rural Iowa heritage, being there was enveloping and challenging. The challenge, of course, consisted of where I fit in this picture. While this had always been an issue, because of my moresuburban upbringing and growing up in Michigan, my gay identity added yet another twist. In this instance, I fell into my role as family historian. Also, I eagerly talked about Iowa politics with a second

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The small plane, with three other passengers, let me off in a chilly, early-November Cedar Rapids night. As was a fellow passenger, I still wore my Clinton-Gore button three days after the election. 1 walked into the terminal and attempted to call for a ride. With no answer, 1 hung around an airport that I hadn't seen in eighteen years— when I was fifteen and a lifetime away. Not long after, my father and brother came to fetch me, and together we went to the hotel where we were staying with my mother, aunt, uncle, cousins, and grandfather. Stopping at a convenience store for munchies and beer on the way, 1 felt strangely at home. My paternal grandmother’s death interrupted the rhythm of my life in Manhattan, resulting in this Iowa trip for her funeral. Though she and my grandfather lived in a small town called Lowden, we stayed in the nearby city. This “rite of passage" brought me face-toface with relatives I had not seen in a decade or more. For instance, the last time I had seen my father’s brother, his wife, and my four cousins was at my grandparents’ golden wedding anniversary fourteen years previous. My uncle was there when I arrived, and he kidded me about my Clinton-Gore button, asking me how on earth I could support him. What I wanted to tell him, but didn't, was that as an HIV+ gay man, I had nowhere else to go electorally. My mother thought that I shouldn’t wear the button, until my cousin, who lives in Dallas, interjected that Clinton had probably carried Cedar Rapids by a comfortable margin. After breakfast (on the hearty side, but with watery midwestem coffee) the next morning we went out to the Methodist church in the town of Clarence for my grandmother’s funeral. Riding on blacktop through an empty expanse of almost winter farmland, I felt warm. It was as if the passing countryside were a large blanket. This, the land where my forebears had lived at least since the 1840s. The church and other aspects of the ritual surrounding my grandmother’s death were absolutely foreign to me. Living in New York as a faggot in the ’80s and ’90s, I am no stranger to death, and I have attended memorial services regularly. Too regularly. Yet, at this funeral in Clarence, there was no slide show or video of the person’s life, no angry speeches, no reading of works by Audre Lorde or Walt Whitman. Even more distressing to me was the open casket; at most memorials I went to in New York, the most one usually saw was an urn (or shoebox) containing the dead one’s ashes. Walking in, I was jolted by the Figure that had been my grandmother and quickly averted my eyes. I did not look at the coffin again until it was safely closed. The open casket bothered me in a number of ways. First, I wanted to remember grandma as she had been in life, not embalmed and laid out. Secondly, I’m of Jewish background on my mother’s side. Open caskets are anathema in the Jewish frame of reference, regardless of whether a Jew is Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, or secular. (This is also true of flowers at funerals, of which there were an abundance that day in Clarence’s Methodist Church. On the death of a Jewish person, people are encouraged instead to give money to philanthropies or causes important to the deceased.) Finally, I think a lot of my horror was generational. Open and expensive caskets, outrageous amounts of flowers, viewings, etc., are increasingly giving way to more simple ceremonies and cremations. Being among the generation exposed in high school assignments to the works of Elizabeth Ktibler Ross, I even bristled at the use of denialsteeped euphemisms such as “passed away," “passed on," etc. (something I also do when I read obits in the Bay Area Reporter of people who have moved on to another "plane of existance"). They died, damn it! I sat next to my brother for the service— preparing myself mentally and emotionally for my task as pallbearer. All around me people were crying, and I couldn’t. I even felt guilty for not being able to cry the tears that wouldn’t be summoned. Why Midwestern WASPs have the reputation for being stoic and unemotional is not necessarily beyond me, but there was no dearth of emotion expressed that day among my tribe.

The ritual surrounding my grandmother’s death was absolutely foreign to me. There was no slide show or video o f the person’s life, no angry speeches, no reading o f works by Audre Lorde or Walt Whitman. cousin (whose similar upbringing and closeness in age left her with an outlook closest to mine), her husband, and two of my dad’s first cousins. If there were a lover in my picture, my being gay would probably be much easier to integrate, having a "significant other" making things more concrete. Gratefully, no one asked me if I were married or if I was "seeing any 'girl' in particular." That much was obviously clear. Many relatives congratulated me on "my guy" having won the election that week. Kindly, many of these Bush- and Perot-voting relatives had remembered my disappointment over the McGovern defeat when I was 1 3 .1 mentioned, to no response, Mark's memorial march to Republican headquarters. I perceived AIDS to be as close to their lives as Buddhism and cappuccino bars. In many ways, the presence of an extended family shelters one from the vagaries of the nuclear family, fortunately, that still exists for me, though in some pilot-light fashion. While 1could never go back there to live, the tilled earth of rural Iowa is indelibly part of me. Though I quickly and eagerly went back to my life in a Manhattan gay ghetto (where the closest I get to the earth is my garden on the fire escape)— trudging to work on the subways, hanging out in leather bars, attending political meetings around issues of AIDS and gay liberation— the small-town values of neighborliness, civic responsibility, and extended family (further extended by me to include the lesbian and gay community) are never far away.

Hi, I'm a GWM, 5'7”, 165#, 5 0 ’s. I'm a friendly, m asculine (looking & acting), hoots & je a n s lovin g cou n try dude. L o o k in g for th o s e w ith s im ila r interests. Edward d o RFD #78

L o n e ly P a g a n H o b b it in N ew H am pshire. T his fu zzy little Wiccan, age 26, is hoping to m eet guys in N H ’s m id s e c tio n , p refe ra b ly n ea r th e Vermont line. I’m about 5’ tall, husky, brown haired, blue eyed, trim bearded, and cu te faced. (I w as d e fin ite ly a Teddy Bear in a previous life!) I love cuddling and k eep in g a top warm on cold nights. I’m HIV-, don’t sm oke/do drugs. My ideal guy is betw een 18 and 30, isn ’t ex c essiv ely larger than I in w eight or h eigh t, is in tellig en t, nonm a t e r ia lis t ic , n o n -s m o k in g , non sh a llo w , op en -m in ded, h o n e st, and takes care of himself. I’ll admit usually being drawn to boyish faced guys, but I’m very flexible - a playful personality

is a lw a y s my bigger turn-on! My in terest in clu d es conversation, seeing new people and places, thrift shopping, S C IE N C E F IC T IO N , role p la y in g gam es, music of all kinds (if the band is ob scu re and/or gay I’m interested!), w riting (sci fi, poetry & erotica - m y dream is o f being published), cooking, w a tch in g in te llig e n t and/or com edic film s and tele v isio n , d evelop in g my W iccan b elie fs, th e se r e n ity o f th e night, and the large am ounts of humor. I’m con sid erin g a move sou th , so I’m op en to r e s p o n s e s from su n n ie r clim ates, too. Paul C/O RFD #78

Old, ad ven tu rou s, country GWM, 77 yrs, but act a very young 75 (Ho Ho), now sleeping with two huge black labs, my favorite girls in the world - other than those two girls, I am living a lo n e in a b e a u tifu l sp o t in th e m oun tains of Southern V erm ont, not remote, but quite private. Neighbors aw are o f my sexu al p ersuasion and don’t give a dam n, each to his own! Am in an tiq ue b u sin ess w hen n ecessary, but ex ist m ostly on Social S ecu rity by

scrim ping along but have a good tim e living, but could he b etter w ith right guy! S om etim es drink too m uch, but AA is not the sort of th in g that I can re la te to, not good in th a t kind o f supportive crowd, unfortunately! I a m a binge drinker and w hen not drinking ca n ’t even stand th e sm ell o f booze. O ther ad ditives do m ore for me but have no addictions other than sexual. In terested in fin d in g som eo n e w ho would like to help in antique b usiness in a rather ligh t and fun w ay, or I w ill even rent a room at a nom inal fee to a beautiful guy, w ithout m olestation, but m u st be at le a s t o f R ichard G eer c a lib e r . I h a v e b een m o s tly in relationships w ith gu y s who are into m ore or l e s s o ff-b e a t s e x u a l p ersuasions, tra n sv estites, infantilism, food fetishes, nursing, FF, well you get the idea. Plain old vanilla does bore me a lot. I don’t w ant th is to scare anyone away, because old fashion romance and love does capture my attention. H ave nice sm all h ou se w ith fa n ta stic view and if you like skiing you should be with me this winter, snow, snow, snow. I can s e e B r o m le y and S tr a tto n from bedroom s, not clo se en ou gh to view

and a w illin g ta lk er. I’m ed u cated , healthy, and financially OK. I believe in co m m itm en t and I’m not afraid of in tim acy ( in all o f life, not j u s t little com partm entalized bits o f it). I have a great sm ile and laugh readily (even sing when Tm around the right guy enough). I love to cook, cuddle, and k iss (but u su a lly on ly two ou t of th ree at the sa m e tim e). I love a n im a ls and have tw o sm all dogs. I’m a Libra. I relish sp o n ta n e o u s se x (both g iv in g and receiving). I life in NY C ity but escape as often as I can to my country place w ay out in the woods w here there is no electricity or phone. Are you yearning to sh a re a se ttle d life togeth er with som eone w ho w a n ts to be a part of your life as m uch as you w ant to be part of his? This is about m utuality and delighting in each other. I w ant to wake up in the m orning w ith you in my arms and bring you coffee in bed. I w a n t to com e hom e -to you r cook in g after a tough day and h ave you wrap your arm s around me. If you are you nger th a n 45, sa n e, drug and sm oke-free, think of y o u rself as pretty easy-going, h a v e h u sb a n d in s t in c t s , s im ila r personal qualities, and are ready to give

skiers but thirty m inutes from house. I am in good h ealth, I g u e ss, at le a st I know I’m HIV- and I’m goin g to sta y th a t way, I th in k only an idiot would turn p ositive at m y age. Like reading and ta k e lo n g w a lk s on up the m o u n tain on w hich I liv e, but not som ething I particularly relish. Would like a younger guy w ith lots o f g et up and go ju st to keep my young if for no other reason and I prom ise I w ill keep s o m e o n e s e x u a ll y s a t ia t e d an d hopefully not boringly so. D on’t I sound j u s t about perfect, w ell I try! M ostly vegetarian, will deviate but w ith guilt! 5’11” - 155 lbs - short grey beard - no BB b u t in fair p hysical sh a p e - no sm ok ers p lease! N ot to ta lly yok el, lived in N ew York C ity for over 50 years!

this a try, please w rite and tell me lots about yourself. I will answ er all letters.

Dick Phelps P.O. Box 716 East D orset , VT 05253-9708 -9708

i& k I’m 50 - H IV +, 5’10”, 18 5 lb s. I’m looking for a com panion w ith whom to sh are my life. I’m good looking with a silv er-g rey beard and m u sta ch e and the soul of a six year old. I’m very lifeaffirm ing and spiritual, a great listener

C ountry Lover C/O RFD #78

D ear Rural Gay Brothers, Hi! My nam e’s E rnest, and I’m a large, m uscle-y, hum py, hunky, grey - and w h ite cat. My brother, Edward, and I liv e w ith tw o R a d ica l F a e r ie s in B r o o k ly n . W e ’re b o th p e r f e c t ly N O R M A L , FRIENDLY, AFFECTIONATE cats but b ecau se of my a d v e n tu r o u s an d e n e r g e t ic p ersonality I feel a bit cooped up living in a third floor c ity a p a rtm en t. So cooped up in fact, th e gu ys I live w ith sa y I’m gru m py and d ifficu lt to live w ith. H ow ever, I w ould be p erfectly happy, w ell-adjusted and d eligh tfu l to live w ith if I lived in th e country and could roam about a bit, catchin g m ice and h a v in g a few a d v e n tu r e s. My brother and I are devoted to each other, having been lovers practically sin ce the day we were bom , d esp ite th e fact that w e are both ALTERED MALES. So we w ant to m ove together. If an y o f you guys out there live in th e country and could u se co m p an y from tw o good-

looking, friend ly c a ts w ho are four yeiU’S old, please w rite to the guv's I live with.

clim ate that allow s a nude lifestyle is a major consideration. D etailed letters with photos are especially appreciated.

yours. I’m “out" to everyone im portant to me. I expect you’ll be too. W rite or call.

Torn Castim ore and David Finkelstein 4 5 1 Court S treet, Brooklyn, NY 11231

Mike P.O.Box 686 E ast Am herst

Don (202 ) 319-1644 C/O RFD #78

A rtist, n a tu ra list, p hysician , healthy, a ttra ctiv e 40, livin g alone on a 100acre ru ral h o m e ste a d . A painter, printm aker, tak in g great p leasu re in th e gard en . From indoor ex o tic s to fragrant p eren n ials, fresh herbs and produce for the table. Hom em ade bread and preserves enrich rural life. I enjoy long w oodland w alk s, and co llectin g m ush room s and w ild ed ib les in the sum m er; cross-co u n try sk iin g, snow shoeing, and indoor exercise in winter keep th e body Firm. I lik e screw ball com edies, d iverse m usic, th e stu d y of J a p a n e se, and am w ork in g tow ards hom estead self-su fficien cy. L ife is a creative adventure! I w ish to m eet a special person 25 to 40, a craftsm en or one who sh ares th e love of life, travel, and th e arts. Let’s m eet for a fresh ly brewed cup of coffee on the pond in the woods. Maybe we can forge som ething wonderful together.

Hi E very o n e! My frie n d s c a ll me Grimm. I’m a T aurus and a Bear (in totem as w ell as type). I stand 6’3”, 260. I have brown hair (balding), beard and m ustache. My eyes are brown gold and I’m told th ey glow w hen I sm ile. I sm ile a lot. I’m a free sp irit and an e m p a th ic p sy c h ic w h o lo v e s th e com p any o f all k in d s of people. My p a s s io n s are b ooks, baby anim als, m u sic, folklore, m yth ology and th e outdoors, oh, and sex o f all kinds. I'm alw ays trying to experience new things and te a c h in g s. Two o f m y fa v o rite th in gs to do to som eone else are hugs and back rubs. My birth date is May 14th, 1963. T hus, I’m 30 years old at th e tim e of th is w riting, if it m ak es a difference. I’m looking for new friends and a circle to practice with. Well if you w an t to know more ju st w rite or call between 6pm - 9pm EST.

Lee C/O RFD #78

Hi! B ushy bearded, furry, w-arm, loving, caring, bespeckled Irish teddy bear is looking for a den m ate! T h is 1950 c la s s ic m od el h a s r e c e n t ly been overhauled and should give m any years o f f a it h f u l, d e p e n d a b le service. (Seriou sly I’m m ildly disabled [heart], but rem ain a ctiv e and h ave a good prognosis). The basics are this: retired, 43, 5 ’11”, 2 35#, h azel ey e s, auburn hair, red beard, pierced and tattooed. B asically a top, Fr. A/P & Gr. A. I’m very m a in lin e W ASP (E p iscop alian ) rather con servative and h ave an old fashioned value system . M y in terests are m an y-organ ic gard en in g , m usic (e sp e c ia lly opera), read in g, theatre, cooking, k nitting & n eed lepoin t, soap m aking, and more. I esp e cia lly enjoy nude hiking when possible. W hile I’m seeking a relationship. I’m also open to friendship. H opefully the near future holds a sm all farm /hom estead, possibly an organic dairy/poultry operation; as self-su staining as possible. I’m looking for som eone warm, caring, open , and honest. Body and facial h air are #1 turn-ons and frankly I prefer a bit of extra w eight, although not necessary; sim ila r goals, in te r e sts, and outlook are! Age, race, and ethnic background are open. R elocation to a warm , mild

NY 14051

Joseph R. Leven 314 Laurel Ave. Horsham , PA 19044 (215) 672-1696

I live near D upont Circle in W ashington DC., one of the gayest neighborhoods in A m erica. I’m an a ttr a ctiv e, m atu re 52-year old college educated farm boy who is 6-2, 185-pounds with blue eyes, t h in n in g s ilv e r -b lo n d e h a ir and m u sta c h e . I love co u n tr y m u sic, ancient history, good seafood, red wine, sipping JD and travel. I work on-thea ir as a rad io n ew sm a n b u t I’m changing geographic locations and will m ove to Florida, probably th e K eys. E ventually, I w ant to live on a boat, catch in g my d in n er at th e en d o f a Fishing pole. I'm looking for a sincere, honest, m entally m ature hum an being w ho h as th e g u ts to work hard at b u ild in g a lo n g -term , m on ogam ou s r e la tio n s h ip . I n eed an attra ctiv e in te llig e n t, bottom man w ho ta k e s pride in h im self and his sexuality, a “life p artner”, som eone who enjoys a quiet hom e life, and an occasional cocktail p arty, w a lk s on th e b each , holding hands in public, sw im m ing naked in the ocean, b eau tifu l su n se ts , and life in g en era l. P lea se, no confused closet c a s e s, d ruggies, drunks, u ncuts, bi’s, h u stlers, p rison ers or in m ates. If all you have to offer is w h a t’s between your legs, d on ’t w a ste my tim e our 69

Hi. My mime is Mark and Tm a 25 year old GWM living in Richmond, Virginia. I am a pagan U n ita ria n U niversalist. I’m in terested in corresponding with other people who have sim ilar spiritual in terest -especially other gay pagans or U nitarian U niversalist young adults. Other interests of mine include: reading science fiction; riding my bike (which I guess is a good thing considering it’s my only m eans of transportation!); playing w ith co m p u ters - e sp e c ia lly A m iga com puters; exp loring nature, having long deep conversations; and fighting oppression and fostering understanding among people to th e best of my ability to do so. I g u ess after coming out on a national talk-show , you could say I’m d efin itely out o f th e clo set for good. Gosh, I’ve n ever w ritten one of th ese before, so I don't know w hat else to w rite . If a n y o n e h a s an y sim ila r in te re sts and would be in terested in corresponding with me, you can w rite me! Mark Dem ma 18 South Boulevard #6 Richmond, VA 23220

Dear RFD Readers; GWM in S outhw est Virginia seek ing a sincere friendship and possibly more. I am a d isc r e e t, h o n est and ca rin g person. D on ’t h ave a n yon e, so any response is welcomed. Come on let me hear. Will answ’er. E of Southw est Virginia C/O RFD #78

I am a GWM and like so m any other gay men I am lon ely, and d esire to correspond with other men regardless of th eir race or location or d esire. I w elcom e all who w rite and begin a frien d sh ip that m ight d evelop into som eth in g else. I like gard en in g and country life. I hope to hear from you soon. I love good sex too. Write soon. John P.O. Box 180 Peterstown, WV 24963

c a n d le lig h t d in n e r s and “cuddly" S u n d ays. I’m honest, do not sm oke, but occasion ally have a beer or som e w ine. I love m usic. If you’re interested in a “hot older country type “ that likes home life - travel and steam y n ights you'll receive a prompt response from:

D a lla s, W .V a.-N orth ern Panhandle: C oun try G en tlem an 45y. 6 ’2", 170# b ea rd , L o n g h a ir, h o n e st, frien d ly, helpful, sensible, live and work on sm all farm . In te r e sts : Old b ook s, oldfa sh io n ed liv in g , old cars. E n g lish h u m or, co u n tr y , fa rm in g , working outside, looking inside, good music, good food, an im als, building, working with hands and m ind, m a ssa g es, esp. odd th ou gh ts. Jeopardy, m en -tall, short, y o u n g , o ld , p lu s lo a d s o f o th e r in sig n ifica n t d eta ils. O pen m inded would like to hear from all typ es, all interests, all w alks of life. Any readers o f “SW EAT", SM A LL FA RM ER S; OUT; GENRE; Etc.? H ope to hear from all old or new friends. Will answ er all. Also have extra bed spaceino, not my bed) for v isito rs. If you can get past the books, WRITE! Peace, love, good health, and life. Jim W hipkey Box 60-B, R.P. #1 D allas, WV 26036

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Hi - my nam e is Roger, I’m a 29 year old w hite m ale and I’ve ju st relocated to Southern K entucky after spending the la st four years hopping betw een Taos, N ew M exico and Los A ngeles. I work full tim e as an artist and enjoy hiking, sw im m ing, sun bathing, photography, and m usic. I’m looking for friends to correspond and in tera ct w ith and o f c o u r se I still b e lie v e th a t special som eone is out there. Roger Lee HC 86/U nit 17/Box 2 M onticello, KY 42633 P.S. Richard CJyjmley * are y ° u out there!

Dear Country Guys: S oon to r e lo c a te to n a tiv e W est Virginia from a big city - th is PGWM is se e k in g a deep friendship/relationship with an ordinary “country gu y” willing to m ake it this tim e around - work - perhaps in a new rural settin g in late 1994! I’m 56. (cam e out late), clean sh a v en , brown hair, blue ey e s, 5 ’9 ”, m uscular build - stocky, but not fat, hairy, 210#, HIV n egative, clean and endowed. Looking for a country gu y — S om ew h at bearish like me - to learn throughout relationship and love since I have a Tot of affection to return and soon. I’m considered a g gressive as a form er co llege w restler/teacher/coach but I seek a som ew hat aggressive guy. I'm p assionate - lik e the dawn to dusk type, funny - caring - lonely - h onest love all kinds of activity - but especially

Bob Cooper 4903 Kristie Falls Columbus, OH 43221-5223 P.S. All mail will be forwarded to m y new address in W est V irginia should I r e lo c a te d u e to p a r e n ts illn e s s . Shalom!

Hello Bros, I an interested in any bikers, truckers, and cowboys who are looking for a good friend and travelin g com panion. I’m 6 ’, 2 0 0 # , 40 y .o .., w ho lik e s fishing, cam ping, pool, d arts, cou n try m usic and beer and I’d like to hear from men w ho lik e th e sa m e. I’m look in g for som eone to sh are the open roads and not afraid of good, hard, h o n est work. To relax, I also like to go canoeing and horseback riding. The w inters are cold and long and th e su m m ers are warm and wonderful. Pete K. 1508 11th Ave. M enom inie, MI 49858 I’m seek ing a partner to join me in my country home. I live on a farm in Iowa, and enjoy th e cou n try, h o rses, and woods. H op efu lly th is person could a ssist me in m y electronics b u sin ess, could be a farmer, or ju st join me for a q u iet lifetim e on th e farm or in th e woods. A little about me: m asculine, non-smoker, 40, big hairy bearded guy, and m ost of all, lonely. N ever h ave I been in a position to com m it to a long term relationship, but now I’m ready. George R.R. 2 Box 205 Cresco, LA 52136 (319) 547-3930

C lear, b lue-green w a te r s..... fragrant balsam -birch forests... drum s echoing along ston y w h ite sh o res... th e cry of gulls high in the air... how ling of coyotes deep w ithin the woods... steam of the sw ea t lodge risin g upwards m ingling with our sw eat, our prayers and songs, and gran d m others C edar’s essen ce ... a sk in g th e sp irits for g u id a n ce and healing for o u rselves and all creation. Aho! Is th is a dream ? No, all real! Boozhoo (hello) brothers. My nam e is T ahnadin (also known as John). For

ten y ea rs now I have been part of a group of people w ho follow th e earth w a y s o f th e A n ish a b e (Chippewa) Indian p eo p le o f th e G rea t L a k es. E v e r y su m m e r w e jo u r n e y to a b eau tifu l isla n d in th e g rea t w aters experiencing the above and much more. There, our sp iritu al fam ily (a racially m ixed bun ch ) co n d u cts ce re m o n ie s w ith th e b lessed sp irits help (m ain ly vision quests). We also gather healing h erb s for m e d ic in e s. T h e island m anifests an in tense, positive spiritual en erg y w hich reach es down into our hearts and spirits. I’ve had a vision for som e tim e now to help bring together to this sacred place gay brothers who are draw n to th e rh y th m s o f th e G reat L a k es- m en w ho sincerely w a n t to learn about w alk ing w ith honor upon our Earth. The tim e is now for healing o u r s e lv e s and a ll life arou n d u s. B roth ers, are you tired o f th e fa lse valu es of m ainstream society? Are you sea rch in g for the sacred in your life? H a v e you foun d th e circ le w h ich a ck n o w led g es and u n d er sta n d s our sp ecia ln ess as tw o sp irited people? I have b e e n s e a r c h in g for t h is co n n ectio n , too. In stea d of w a itin g forever I decided I had to m ak e it happ en . H en ce, th is in v ita tio n to kindred souls. In tribal societies, people lik e us w ere valued and este em ed as m edicine men and seers for the people. Our group already has m any w om yn and straight couples. W hat is needed is th e balance th a t b rothers w ill bring. We are open to all people who are of sincere heart, mind, & spirit. N othing is ch arged for cerem o n y or n a tiv e lodging- only econom ic w eekly fees for food and boat transportation. M onthly m eetin gs are held on the m ainland off season. If you are searchin g for your p u rp o se, are in te r e ste d in h e a lin g herbs, or sim ply need to be in a sacred circle of wonderful people in a prim eval place, then p lease w rite me. I’ll send you info about our group. I’m also in t e r e s t e d in c o r re sp o n d in g and m e e t in g f e llo w e a r th b r o th e r s everyw here. Join me on th e G ISSIS M AKANA (su n T rail). B le s s in g s & Balance. Tahnodin-John Lorenzen 3862 E. Van Norm an Cudahy, WI. 53110

Greetings from Montana, I am looking for a partner, friend and m en tor w ho h o p efu lly liv e s h ere in M ontana, about 30 to 50 y ears old. I would be w illing to correspond w ith men in o th e r a r e a s a lso as m y m ain o b jectiv e is to m a k e fr ie n d s and c o n ta c ts. I en joy good in te llig e n t conversations, q uiet tim es and lots of

sex once a friendship is estab lish ed . I am 50. 5*9". blue eyes, red/brown. 31" w aist and etc. I enjoy good hard work, garden, home life and good books. I am also q u ite d om esticated around the home. Som eday. I w ant to be a gay fiction w riter. I have a good se n se of humor, can be seriou s. If you need a good friend th at h as m any in te r e sts, and enjoys life, please let m e hear from you. Life is too short to be w ithout a frien d . We m isse d b ein g togeth er today, let’s not w aste tomorrow. Art P.O. Box 145 Ronan, MT 59864

Hello Gay Brother, Life, Prosperity, Health! I am a GW'M, livin g in a rural area ab out h a lf an hour’s drive from th e N eb rask a sta te capitol. I love it here and have m et som e really nice people, but so far I h ave n ot m et a n y tru e F a e r ie s in Nebraska. Are there any? I would like to m eet others on th is path. I am ju st turned 50, thou gh told I look & a ct younger, 6 ’3 ”, brn/gray hair, about 240 lbs, U n itarian /W iccan , in to cla ssic a l m usic, reading/writing, and sharing. I’d like to hear from you, not n ecessa rily ju st for sex (but th a t’s OK too!). You h ave n o th in g to lose, w hy not w rite. H ope to h ea r from som e F a e r ie s , m a y b e g e t a gro u p o f u s se m iorganized. Blessed Be! Tom P.O. Box 80842 Lincoln, NE 68501 I am 33, GWM, live in a sm all N orth Central Texas town on the ou tsk irts of the u niverse. In w in ter coyotes w alk the stre ets and in su m m er sun ea ts into your bones. I’ve sp en t m y life traveling, spreading my life everyw here but now I live here. I’m a gardener by profession and a poet by need. I no longer know the tim e of day, only the tim e of year. M eaninglessn ess does not disturb me - chaos does not disarm me. L on eliness, how ever, is too m uch to bear. I live a hard, Spartan life. I do not need a man to take care of me. Nor do I need e x c essiv e love. I need a companion, a man w illing to work hal'd w ith me e sta b lish in g a farm , a man w illing to share life w ith m e. I would like to hear from a H ispanic or N ative American m an, 33 or younger, in good physical sh ape, no drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes, and no dogs. It’s the only animal I don’t like. David P.O. Box 263 Maypearl, TX 76064

IN D E PE N D E N C E . TEXAS I am seek in g a best friend, soul-m ate, lover, b u sin ess partner and life m ate and I w ant to be all of th ese and more FO R Y O U . if w e s h a r e s im ila r in te r e sts, goals and d ream s. I am a young 45, 6*. brown,/blue. I live in a historic cottage on 2 acres of land in a h isto r ic v illa g e in c e n tr a l T e x a s e q u id is t a n t (1 0 0 m ile s ) between H ou ston and A u stin . I tea ch at a n earb y u n iv e rsity . I ow n an 1870 general store in need of restoration. My dream is for us to fix it up and run it as a store, antique shop, restaurant, and cou n try sto re m u seu m . W ith o u t a p artn er and fellow dream er, m y life la c k s m uch z e s t and real jo y . My in terests are flea m arkets, jun kstores, country an tiq ues, history, old h ouses, and b u ild in gs, c la ssic ca rs, co u n try living, gardening, cuddling, m aking love, traveling, long intim ate diners, anim als, re sto rin g old th in g s, recy clin g and fin d in g m y kindred sp irit. S eek in g w h ite m ale, 20-50, d isea se and drug free, who sh ares som e o f my in terests and who can share other in terests with me, broaden my horizons and teach me new in terests and sk ills. I prefer very m ascu lin e m ale who is com fortable in je a n s or black tie. C aring, honesty, s e n s it iv it y , and k in d n e s s are p rereq u isites. I w a n t a happy m an w ith a sm ilin g face w ho prefer^ th e good, sim p le co u n try life and w ho cou n ts h is b lessin gs. P lea se respond with photo, in terests, background and personals. Happy Everlasting!

I’m ch eatin g b/c I sit here reading old ads so I know' how to m ake my letter sound. M any o f them sound beautiful but no on e se em s to liv e in South Texas. I’m young, in terested & open, m a sc u lin e , rom an tic GWM, 24. I haven't yet decided if I dig up a picture for you. I g u ess if I am to find you I should include one. O yeah, sta tistics I’m a SW’M age 24, 6T", 174 lean lbs. HIV-, d isease and cigarette sm oke free, who cares. I would like to connect with country friends and maybe a Papa (for me anyone age 26 or above). If your interested and trying to live a positive and loving life lets correspond & maybe meet. I hope som e god, faerie or satyr som ehow feels the right energy that I send with this letter and responds. I’m open to alm ost everyth ing (safe, sa n e and consensual) w ithin the right group and e n e r g ie s. All le tte r s w ill be responded to but letters with pictures, p ersonal artw ork or d irty jo ck s g et im m ediate response. Jam es, Corpus Christi, Texas C/O RFD #78

Shaun C/O RFD #78

C ollege S tation Stud: N eed s m ate 35 y/o w hite m ale 5’5" 130 lbs, brown hair, green ey es, m u sta ch e 28 inch w a ist, bubble butt, 9 inch cock by 5 3 /4 ” d ia m e te r. L ook in g for lo n g term rela tio n sh ip , photo e x c h a n g e, video exch an ge, I am a hot, h onest, sexy, stud. Write Larry Jones Rt. 5 Box 954, 8850 B urgess Lane Lot #42. College Station, TX. 77845 Call Me (409) 846-3390.

B lessed Brothers: I am planning a P hallic w orship alter here at Panthoes Sanctuary in honor of Pan and Priapus. I am seek ing photos (ico n s) o f your B ig E rect Cock to include in the altar. Anyone sending in p h o to g r a p h s w ill r e c e iv e a com p lim en tary copy of PANTHEO SN ation al N ew sle tte r for G ay P agan M en. I'm a lso a c c e p tin g P h a llic artwork (such as : paintings, drawings, p ottery, m etal, wood carvin gs, etc.). You will receive a free subscription to PA NTH EO S. I’m a ls o op en to corresp ond ing w ith o th ers w ho are serious about Phallic worship, rites in a historical & religious context. So don’t d ela y - im m ortalize your cock today! PANTHEO S P.O. Box 9543 Santa Fe, NM 87504

DEPENDENT S P IN S T E R (35) seek in g com panion(s); elder, sin gle or co u p le/fa m ily situ a tio n fin e. Rural se ttin g preferable. I lik e to w eave, write, read, walk country roads, garden. N ot opposed to hard work- prefer the d om estic kind - sim p ly do not have w hat it ta k e s to “m ake it ” on th e American front lin es of the job market. I en joy sh a r in g sim p le th in g s lik e m u sic, food, poetry. Love read in g aloud. Life is suffering - perhaps that is why laughter is such a grace in my life. Could I help you? Could you help me? L e ts liste n to G arrison K eillor on S a tu r d a y n ig h t s a n d I’ll m a k e pancakes for breakfast in the morning. (Like Q uentin Crisp, I have let go of w aiting for the “Tall Dark Man” so I am ready to se ttle down.) Your eccentric yet down -to-earth faerie au nt aw aits your reply. Sincerely, Amos Marie P.O.Box 3081 Silver City, NM. 88062

G reetings from the Mojave Desert. A nyone out there seek in g a change of environm ent? Looking for a se n su a l outdoors m an to com plim ent your new surroundings? I’m seek in g an outdoors orien ted m ale (any race) who enjoys exploring, travel, hiking, m aybe even h a ck p ack in g. S om eon e w ith som e sk ills to contribute and isn ’t afraid of work or play. I lik e h airy m en in particular, who are h u sk y in buildbetw een late tw enties & early forties, I seek a non-sm oker, drug user, little or no alcohol. I’m 41, 5 ’7”, 145 lb s., m a s c u lin e , s e n s i t i v e , muscular, m ustach e, a cuddler, ligh t body hair. O th er in te r e sts; m in era l collecting, w restling, photography, w ildlife study, reading, etc. I'm a handim an by trade and a pretty good cook. Write W olf Lambrecht 15 4 5 N . Alford St. R id g e cre st, C A . 9 3 5 5 5

Dear K in d r e d Spirits, I’m a bit m ountain man, earth spirit, bohem ian. J u st a sim ple man. GWM, 36, 6 ’5”, 165 lbs, long brown hair & beard, HIV+. I left the Black H ills o f S.D. and cam e to San F rancisco to be able to use the more advanced medical services. I m iss my m ountain home but I’m adaptable. I’ve m ade a niche for m y s e lf h ere. I liv e on S ocial Security and subsidize that by working w ith my hands. I enjoy all of nature, collecting rocks, stick s, n atu res art. I a lso work a lot w ith wood. I m ake w alking sticks, carving treasure ch ests

all em b ellish e d w ith sto n e s. I’m a spiritual non-using, non-drinking man. I have a lot of tim e to spend exploring the Bay Area but find no joy in doing th ese things myself. My hopes are that through this letter, FU find som eone of sim ilar lik es and situ ation that would he in terested in doing som e exploring with me. If you are, please write. Doug P.O.Box 410472 S.F ., CA. 94141

I live in C alifornia in th e b eau tifu l v a lle y o f th e m oon in a to w n o f Sonom a. The v ie w s of th e moon are great. The u nfortu n ate th in g of it is S o n o m a h a s b eco m e th e “W in e C o u n tr y ”. I th in k th e r e are m ore w ineries here than France, so th is area is a huge to u rist area, w hich m eans outdoor rural areas are hard to find. I can drive som e distance to the ocean or redwoods and som etim es find a private area that will do. I am an ap artm ent m anager so yard space is non- existent, plus I work full tim e and th a t m akes tra v el d iffic u lt. T h is a lso p o ses a problem m eeting like minded people in my area to com m une w ith. I really w o u ld lik e to e x p e r ie n c e som e correspondence w ith other people and perhaps m eet. I feel lik e I have been asleep for to long. W ith much hope & love. Blessed Be. Cade 16914 Sonom a Hwy. Sonom a, CA. 95476

Pacific N orth w est GWM 37, 5’9 ”, 150 lbs. 1 am seek ing a friend and eventual life partner based on resp ect, tru st, su p p ortiven ess, caring, and physical a ttr a c tio n . I en jo y a v a r ie ty o f activities from bicycling, running, se a kayaking, working out, and cam ping to working on my house, gardening, a hike in the woods, or w alking on the beach. I am an ad a m a n t n onsm oker in very good physical shape, handsom e, hairychested, balding, and tend to shy aw ay from crow d s and m a in str ea m gay a c tiv itie s. I grew up in th e Rocky M ountains and have adjusted to living in the edges o f a city. I hope to find a m asculine friend who shares my love of nature and can live in the shadow s of civilization w hile we nurture each other in our p u r su its o f g o a ls. I r e a lly appreciate a good m essage, nudity, and affection at hom e, but tend not to be dem onstrative in public. I’m looking for so m e o n e w ho t a k e s p rid e in h is physical condition, honors his spiritual convictions, and sh a res his em otional side. If you’re looking for a stable, loving

partner to build a hom e environm ent send a letter with photo and I’ll respond in kind. F.S. Box 514 540 N.E. N orthgate Way S eattle, WA 98125

This 51 y/o 6 ’, 225 lbs WM lives in the C olu m b ia R iver G orge. I b u ilt a hom estead on 40 acres, 25 m iles south o f th e C olum bia R iver, w ith M ount H ood as a b ack drop. I w a n t to correspond with other m en who enjoy rural life and living in the country. Ia m your everyday next door neighbor type person who is m ascu lin e and discreet. You be th e sa m e. I’m HIV- and practice safe sex. I’m sen sitiv e, honest and enjoy the sim ple things in life. All I am m issin g is som eone to share it with. Jim 9020 Jew el Rd. The D alles, OR 97058

I’m in H aw aii and need you. Mid- 4 0 ’s w hite m an is seek in g an A sian, Latin, or American Indian guy who w ill be my lover. I am a very down to earth, easy going sort of person. I like a m an who is sm all in build and not to tall best. I like to travel and I hope in the com ing y e a r s w e can go m a n y p la c e s . Som eday being able to but a little land in a warm country far from our U ncle Sam U SA , although I’m not w ealthy, I w ould lik e to retire to a nice friendly place th at is accepting of gay people. Is there a younger person who will join me in this life. Also anyone w anting to visit H awaii please write. E.G. Box 1138 Hilo, Haw aii 96721

Dear Fae Friends, ALOHA from FAEVILLE on the Puna coast of Hawaii. Goddess willing, we are to be a loving h ealin g F aerie collective on 5 w arm ocean v iew a cres. We extend to the Fae OHANA (clan tribe) a call to v isit, sh a re d ream s, liv e, la u g h , and love. W e live on P e le ’s bosom and imbue her healing energy as sh e continues to create land and w ithin sig h t o f our S anctu ary. W e se e th e reflectio n o f H er fier y e y e s as sh e reddens the n ight sky. We en trea t S he continues to nurture us as we reside on H er breast. W e tread lig h tly on th e m other, avoiding dead processed foods and living better w ithout electricity. We

are blessed w ith an abundance of local tr o p ic a l f r u it s , f r e q u e n t double ra in b o w s, c le a r b lu e s k ie s , w arm b reezes, and b lessed ly rural location. The nearby d o beach has us snorkeling w ith d o lp h in s, tu r tle s , and fish of glorious h u e in warm am niotic b liss, then d rum m ing till daw n. T h is is a p o w e r fu l, h e a lin g , s a c r e d area. Paradise found. Our goal is to h a v e a dry co m m u n ity sp a c e / sh op up m March, then start w orking on w ater catchm ent, th e com m unity house, and individual sleep in g spaces. T h is call is directed to a covenu m ber of fa es to share in building our P una sanctuary. Some m ay stay a w eek, a m onth, or a lifetime. We spread our loving arm s and w elcom e all w ho se e k refu g e from civilization, and thank The M other for Her continuing b lessings. Our focus is th a t a sp ir itu a l c le a n sin g d ie t of abundant love, low stress, and w hole, sim ple, foods n ou rish es th e soul and restores optim um health. Those ready to abandon allop athy, con su m erism , tobacco, liquor, and processed foods are invited to sh are our dream o f peace, health, and joy. Blessed Bel

and work on your barefeet! With Peace,

FAEVILLE, P.O. 1463 Pahoa, HI 96778

B ear se e k s cub, for correspondence, m ee tin g s, and/or h ib ern a tio n . T h is g rizzly is a lean furry 6 ’, recovering guppy, seldom ly drinker. W ould b est su it N O N -SM O K IN G cub w ho w ants to live in rural area of w estern Canada and w ork as a r tisa n , cra ftsm a n , or m aybe organic farm er. Hope to hear from ya.

Calling All Granola Boys! A ffectionate, GWM 32 y.o., 6 ’1”, 188#, brown hair (balding) in ponytail, h airy c h est and legs, clean sh a v en , a ttractive, w arm , humorous and m ore...seek s YOU. Me: o u tg o in g , fin a n c ia l w iz a r d , s o p h is tic a te d b u t dow n to earth. Looking for m atu rity, sta b ility , good health, and excellen t conversation? No cigs or d ru g s. O u td oor interests: traveling, cam ping, n ature w alks, hot tub s, and g o in g b arefoot. Indoor interests: m odern city jazz, soft rock, v id eo s, co o k in g , m o v ies and good conversation. E njoy q u ie t e v e n in g s w ith m y m an. R ea lly lik e to kiss, cu d d le, m a ssa g e , and g iv e m y self through touch. Foot play is m y focus. Blackened dirty street feet really turn me on. G ive m uch em otional w arm th and closen ess-sou nd lik e your idea of rom ance? E arn ed 3 E arth S cien ce d egrees in 7 years. E n ligh ten ed , but mellow. N eed an in telligen t stable man w ho v a lu e s n a tu re , h a s g o a ls, can co m m u n icate w ell, and be ab le to receive affection. I have m uch love to give. R elocate here! L et’s g et to know each other. P hoto exchange? P lea se reply only if you’re: serious, honest, 1833 y .o ., c le a n s h a v e n , lik e goin g barefoot, and loves to be loved. No p riso n er s, b la ck s, or fla k e s. A ll barefooted Granola boys and farm boys please apply-- let m e take care o f you

Kyle P.O. Box 6351 Portland, OR. 97228

S ingle m ale towards 40- seek in g a nice looking man to know and work for-withetc. I cook, bake, do yard and garden work, like being busy. The man can be to 70- no drunks or jailbirds. Looking to s e ttle out around W yom ing, m aybe A la sk a , M o n ta n a , or N ew Mexico. N othing wild or w ay out. I’m quite down to E arth-T hank God. Like to keep a clean h ou se can do about a n y th in g w ould lik e som eon e w ho ap p recia te som e of the skills. D on’t sm oke- try to be honest- not afraid o f work. Like a m an who enjoys being a man- I aim to please- like the m ountain area - aw ay from rivers. Thank-You.

Trevor C/O 904 - 1625 Hornby St Vancouver, B.C. V6Z 2M2 Canada

« {? Hallo!!! The nicely build, hairy m an is 28. He is an educated stud en t, 6’ and 185 lb. A brow n haired, green eyed fellow is clean sh aven . He is a healthy, open-m inded g u y w h o k n o w s fo u r lenguages, including Spanish. He is interested in t e n is , sw im m in g, body-building and travel. He will wrote to m en to age 60 everywhere. Djokic Goran P oste R estan te 21101 Novi Sad. Y ugoslavia

Ron Peacock 1734 N .E. H alsey Portland, OR 97232

Jay C/O RFD #78

Dear friends, Are you moved, as I am, by the w riting o f Aldo Leopold, Thom as M erton and H enry Thoreau? If so, read on. I’m 41 years old, tall, dark, striking, slim , fit, h e a lt h y , h a p p y , a n d GW M . B y profession , I’m a w riter, b otan ist and n a t u r a li s t . B y a v o c a t io n and te m p e r a m e n t, I’m a h ik e r , s k ie r , gardener and gatherer o f w ild fruits. I also like to read and converse. I m ake m y h om e a m id st th e m o u n ta in s o f south-central British Columbia. On the w h o le I en jo y a r a th e r m o n a stic existence dedicated to hard work, quiet elegance, fugality, natural b eau ty and discovery. N ot to m ention, sp ontaneity and laughter. A fter 18 m onths o f selfim posed solitude follow ing the breakup o f a relation sh ip o f six y ea r s, I once again have room in m y country home and life style for a partner or assistant: som ebody of roughly sim ilar in terests a n d d e s c r ip tio n ; an d so m e b o d y , p erh ap s, w ho is a lso caring, ea rn est and capable. In the com pany o f such a 73

o n e , r o m a n c e o f th e v e r a n d a h overlooking the pond by m oonlight is by no m eans out of the question. If any of th is sp ea k s to you. I’d lik e to h ear about it. Please drop a line. Be well.

Hallo!!!! I am a 30 y ea r old gay m ale from Y ugoslavia. I have blue ey es and fair h a ir. I am clea n sh a v en , str a ig h t acting, well-endowed, active, HIV-, and I need so m eo n e from th e U S A or Canada who w ants to correspond with me! I sp ea k and w rite E n glish and Italian. I am w aiting for your letters very anxiously! D ushanZeljkovic' Povrtarska 43 21000 Novi Sad Yugoslavia

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Curtis (305) Z96-Z69I Jim Holobaugh was the perfect ROTC cadet: smart, handsome, and reliable. When he came out, he be came not only a leading opponent of the military's ban on gay and lesbian soldiers, but also a vivid symbol of the policy's wasteful ness. Here is his true story.

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CELEBRATE OUR 2 0 T H YEAR OF RFD WITH

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. . our anniversary T-shirt 100% pre-shrunk cotton T-shirt 4-color 20th anniversary design comes in med, large, XL, and 3XL limited edition

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or both and save $2 tote bag(s) (@$12.00 each) Send to: RFB T- shirt(s) (@$15.00 each) P.O. Box 68 one of each (@$25.00 set) Liberty, TN Total 37095 Enclose check or money order. Shipping and handling charges included in price, (specify each T-shirt size: M, L, 3XL)

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1 1 want to subscribe to 4 seasons of RFD for only $18.00 ($4.00 off news stand price). ] I want to subscribe to 8 seasons of RFD at the extra low price of $34.00 ($10.00 off news stand price). Begin my subscription with □ issue tt_______ or □ current issue. Renewal name

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Mail all correspondence (advertising, subscriptions, business, submissions or letters) to RFD, P.O. Box 68, Liberty, TN 3 7 0 9 5 . Contributors and editors can be reached through this address also. We welcome advertising - especially from gay-owned enterprises. Please write for our ad rate card. Sample copies of the most recent issues are $5.00(postpaid). Back issues are $4.00 if less than one year old. Back issues older than one year are $2.00 each. (We are out of issues #l-4, 6-8. 24. 30. 32. 36, 53). Please add postage of $2.00 for four issues and for each additional four thereof. RFD itself is not copyrighted.

However, each accredited contribution (written material, photo, artwork) remains the property of those contributors, and nothing of theirs may be republished in any form without their permission. All non-credited material may be republished freely. Mention of the source would be appreciated. Due d ates for submissions to receive full consideration are: ‘

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Autumn 1994 Winter 1994 Spring 1995 Summer 1995

Issue #79 Issue #80 I ssue # 8 1 Issue #82

July 15, 1994 October 15, 1994 J an uary 15, 1995 April 15, 1995

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RFD is published quarterly and is delivered around the Solstice and the

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Equinox. Second class mail may take up to three to four weeks. If you don't receive your copy within a month of the publishing date, please check with us. The number of your last issue is on the mailing label. Second class mail will not be forwarded, so you must let us know if you move.

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We print the names of all contributors, but not their addresses (except for contact letters). Contributors can be reached through RFD. We do n ot give out th e addresses of subscribers, however, RFD will forward mail to them. WRITTEN - Please share your knowledge and vision through RFD. This is a reader written journal, so it is your forum. If possible, send in your contribution typed and double spaced, or preferably on 3.5” disc (H.D. okay) using M.S. Word 4 or 5. or Macwrite. We have a Mac Ilci. We prefer to wield the editorial pencil lightly, so please send your submission to us as close to the way you would have it appear. We do correct (hopefully) for spelling and punctuation, unless you note otherwise.

ARTWORK - We always need more graphics and photos than we have. If you are

an artist or a photographer (You don’t have to be a professional.just talented). Send us a portfolio. Xeroxes when the quality is good rather than original art is advisable. PHOTOS - If you have a choice, black and whites reproduce better than color.

However, if you have a gem of a color photo, send it to us. If you would like special treatment of your work or want it returned, please be specific. No negatives, please. DRAWINGS - It is difficult for us to get good quality reproductions from color drawings and light pencil drawings. Light blue is invisible to the camera and red photographs as black. (Try using red color pencil instead of graphite sometime.) Again, if you want special handling, be specific.

We will report to you as soon as possible if your submission is selected for publication, but we sometimes hold material over for future issues, and it may be some time before actual publication. Please bear with us. A self-addressed, self-stamped envelope will insure the return of your originals. RFD will sen d con trib u tors one (1) cop y o f th e issu e in w h ich th eir work appears as paym ent. Second copy upon request.

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Jan Lynch

A COUNTRY 'JOURNAL. FOR CAY AlEN E V E R Y

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