RFD Issue 109 Spring 2002

Issue #109 $7.75

SPRINGof 2002

Standing before this cliff The past behind me The future untried Yearning and hesitation existing simultaneously Not sure what to do Adeep breath Trust.

A whisper in my ear

My heart pounding then quietly, Trust.

FTTHI

Trust

by Joel CrisPin

Feral sounds clawing around in my belly Trust.

An open mouth Sound stuck at the top of my throat Breathe, Trust.

A whisper in my ear, I love you.

You are beautiful and I cherish you There is nothing you can do to ever change this And there is no need to try Breathe, Trust.

g

Between the Lines T h is is s u e (# 1 0 9 ) is th e th ird R F D p u b lis h e d by th e n e w R F D c o lle c 足 tive. T h e c o v e r o f th is is s u e s e e m s to us a s y m b o lic R e b irth From D e s tru c tio n , o u r n in th m o n th o f w o rk in g to g e th e r a s a c o lle c tiv e . T h e c o v e r a ls o s e e m s a fittin g trib u te to th e p ro c e s s o f h e a lin g w h ic h is e v i足 d e n t a ro u n d us, b o th a s a c o lle c tiv e a n d a s a p a rt o f th e g re a te r u n i足 ve rse .

O n a m o re d o w n -to -e a rth no te, o u r p rin te r fo r th e la s t s e v e ra l ye a rs , in A tla n ta , w e n t o u t o f b u s in e s s . A fte r w e e k s o f fra n tic s e a rc h in g w e w e re a b le to fin d a p rin te r th a t is o n ly 2 0 m ile s fro m us (A tla n ta is 2 5 0 m ile s a w a y).

T h e n e w p rin te r c a m e in a t a v e ry c o m p e titiv e p ric e a n d w e a re ta k in g a d v a n ta g e of th a t to in c re a s e th e p a g e s fro m 4 8 to 52 th is iss u e . W e a re a ls o d o in g a 4 c o lo r c o v e r th is issu e , bu t w ill c o n tin u e w ith 2 c o lo r c o v e rs a s o u r u s u a l fo rm a t.

W e a re h a p p y to re p o rt th a t o u r s lid in g s c a le s u b s c rip tio n p ric e ra n g e h a s w o rk e d v e ry w e ll. You, o u r re a d e rs , h a ve re s p o n d e d w ith a s p irit o f g e n e ro s ity , w h ic h is g ra tify in g .

W e a ls o ha d a n u m b e r o f re a d e rs w rite to a s k fo r o u r B ro th e rs B e h in d B a rs listin g . W e w ill to c o n tin u e to o ffe r th is lis tin g fre e o f c h a rg e . J u s t d ro p us a lin e a n d w e w ill s e n d yo u a copy.

A s yo u m a y kn ow , R F D re c e iv e s m a n y b o o k s fro m m a jo r p u b lis h e rs fo r review . If yo u w o u ld like to re a d o n e , w e w o u ld love fo r yo u to re v ie w a b o o k fo r us. W e a re n o w lis tin g in th e b o o k re v ie w s e c tio n o f e a c h is s u e 5 o r 6 b o o k s , b o th fic tio n a n d n o n -fic tio n , w h ic h a re up fo r review .

S e n d us a re q u e s t a n d w e w ill s e n d a n y o n e o f th e m fo r yo u to re a d , re v ie w a n d a d d to y o u r h o m e library.

H e re in m id d le T e n n e s s e e w h e re w e live, th e s p rin g flo w e rs a re s ta rt足 ing to bud. T h e D a ffo d ils a re eve n b lo o m in g . A n o th e r re m in d e r o f th e e te rn a l C irc le o f Life. A p ro c e s s o f d e a th a n d re b irth w h ic h in c lu d e s us all.

W e h o p e yo u e n jo y th is R F D a n d c o n tin u e to s u p p o rt us th ro u g h y o u r c re a tiv e c o n trib u tio n s o f A rt W o rk , P h o to g ra p h y , G ra p h ic A rt, a n d th e w ritte n w o rd . A N D O F C O U R S E y o u r c o n tin u e d N e w S u b s c rip tio n s , R e n e w a ls a n d D o n a tio n s .

B le s s e d Be, T h e R F D C o lle c tiv e

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R e c a llin g F o rg o tte n D re a m s c irc u m n a v ig a tin g th e c irc le - m o vin g in a s u n -w is e d ire c tio n a ro u n d the e d g e s , s h a k in g m y rattle, k e e p in g w a tc h o ve r m y c o m p a n io n s a n d th e w h o le o f th e g a th e rin g , c o m m u n in g w ith the s p irits s u rro u n d in g a n d p ro te c tin g o u r g a th e rin g , a n d s tirrin g up th e m a g ic of the m o m e n t in th e c a u ld ro n of m y m ind.

t w a s the m o st b e a u tifu l B e lta n e I c a n re m e m b e r - sunny, w arm , g lo rio u s ! T h e la n d w a s fa irly b u rs tin g w ith th e v e rd a n t life of sp rin g tim e . I a w o ke th a t m o rn in g to the g la d c a c o p h o n y o f the birds, fro gs, a n d in s e c ts c e le b ra tin g th e d a w n in g of o ne m ore day. A c c o m p a n ie d by th is rich m u sic, I fo llo w e d th e tra d i­ tion of th e C e ltic p rie s te s s e s of o ld e n tim e s a n d ro se fro m m y slee p to g re e t th e B e lta n e m o rn by w a s h in g m y fa ce w ith the d ew on the g ra s s in the g a rd e n . A s I d id so. I s ta rte d th e day fee ling at o n e w ith the e a rth , th e su n , th e s p rin g tim e , the g ree n thin gs, a nd all the c re a tu re s a ro u n d me.

Finally, th e re c a m e a m o m e n t - a fte r th e M a yp o le h a d bee n w ra p p e d a nd the c e le b ra tio n had s p u n o u t of c o n tro l - w h e n m y d e s ire to c o n n e c t w ith th e e a rth led m e to kn e e l d o w n o n the kno ll a nd to p la c e m y fa ce on th e g ro u n d . In th is p o s itio n . I p raye d a n d m e d ita te d a n d a llo w e d m y m in d to s in k in to the rich e a rth b e n e a th m e. From w h e re I kn e lt on the g re e n s u rfa c e of th e e a rth , I im a g in e d all of the s u c c e s s iv e laye rs - fro m the to p ­ soil d o w n all the w ay to th e fie ry m a g m a at the e a rth ’s core. A s I felt m y m in d b e c o m in g e n tw in e d w ith the ro o ts in the soil, I fou nd m y s e lf tu n in g in to the pain th a t p la n ts feel w h e n the e a rth and th e a ir a nd the w a te r th e y d e p e n d on for n o u ris h m e n t a re p o llu t­ ed. A nd I soo n fou nd m y s e lf c ry in g - m in g lin g the p a in of the p la n ts w ith m y ow n, so th a t w e w e re one. A s I c rie d . I a ls o felt m y s e lf b e in g s p rin k le d w ith w ater. I kne w tha t I had k n e lt d o w n in fro n t of m y c o m p a n io n w h o w a s d re s s e d a s fire, a n d w h a t c a m e to m y m in d w a s th e n a m e th a t had c o m e to m e in a v isio n th e y e a r b efo re w h e n I had b e e n w ith th e s a m e c lo s e c o m p a n ­ ion s - A ir th a t fe e d s the b a p tis m by fire. A n d I th o u g h t, I am n ow b e in g b a p tiz e d by fire - th e e a rth is b e in g b a p tiz e d by fire. Th e e a rth is p u rifie d by fire. A nd sud de nly, in m y m in d ’s eye, I saw fo re s ts ra vag ed by ra gin g fire s. T h e n I saw the s c o rc h e d , b la c k ­ e n e d e a rth th a t w o u ld be left. T h e n I saw g re e n s h o o ts s p ro u tin g in the m id st of th is d e s tru c tio n , a nd I sa w th e fo re s t slow ly, in e x ­ orably, re tu rn in g to it fo rm e r lush glory. In a fla sh , I a p p re h e n d e d the in c re d ib le w is d o m of the p la n t w o rld , a n d I re a liz e d th a t the p la n t w o rld - w h ic h m o st A m e ric a n s te n d to v ie w as sta tic, in a n i­ m ate, v e g e ta tiv e - in fa ct has re m a rk a b le re s ilie n ce , in c lu d in g the a b ility to s u rv iv e u n b e lie ve a b le c a ta s tro p h e s . I re a liz e d th a t even if h u m a n s m a n a g e to d e s tro y o u r e n tire race, the p la n ts on this e a rth are like ly to s u rviv e . A n d I sa w c itie s - y e a rs a n d ye a rs a fte r h u m a n s had d is a p p e a re d - take n o ve r a nd e v e n tu a lly c o v ­ e red by p la n ts, so th a t w ith in a m a tte r of tim e all e v id e n c e of h u m a n m e d d lin g w o u ld be c o v e re d o ve r by the e a rth ’s rich g ree n ery, w h ic h w o u ld in tu rn n o u ris h a re b irth of th e w ild life th a t h u m a n life has b e e n d e s tro y in g ..

T h e p a g e a n try o f th e c o ro n a tio n th a t h ad ta k e n p la c e th e p re ­ viou s d ay had v is ib ly ra ise d the c o m m u n ity ’s s p irits . Ail th e p a rts of the c e le b ra tio n had c o n s p ire d to b rin g th e c o m m u n ity to g e th e r in th e sp irit of h a rm o n y a n d c e le b ra tio n a nd joy.

So by th e tim e B e lta n e d a w n e d , th e fe e lin g s o f g o o d w ill w ere e ve ry w h e re p a lp a b le in th e air, a n d th e p re p a ra tio n s fo r the B e lta n e ritu al -s e le c tin g the tree, tra n s p o rtin g it to th e knoll, strip p in g its b a rk a nd fe s ta lly p a in tin g it. a tta c h in g th e rib bo ns, and p la n n in g of the ritu a l itse lf - all p ro c e e d e d sm oo thly. B y m id ­ day, the p re p a ra tio n s w e re c o m p le te , a nd the m e m b e rs of the c o m m u n ity had s ca tte re d to p re p a re th e m s e lv e s fo r th is m o st festive d ay o f th e year.

For th is s p e c ia l day, I had c re a te d fo r m y s e lf a G re e n M an m ask a nd c o s tu m e - th e m o st e la b o ra te I had e ve r c re a te d . T h e G ree n M an is th e a n c ie n t a rc h e ty p e of th e son a nd th e c o n s o rt of the E a rth G o d d e ss , a nd I had m o d e le d m y m a sk on a rc h ite c ­ tural re n d e rin g s o f th e G re e n M an fro m G o th ic c a th e d ra ls . A s I pulle d on m y g re e n tig h ts, c o v e re d m y b o d y w ith g re e n clay, and fin a lly d o n n e d m y m a sk - w ith lea ves a n d v in e s a nd b ra n c h e s se e m in g to g ro w d ire c tly o u t o f m y fa ce a nd tw in in g a ro u n d m y b od y - I felt m y s e lf a ttu n e d w ith th e e a rth .. A s I jo in e d w ith m y clo s e s t c o m p a n io n s , I c o m m itte d m y s e lf to g e ttin g in to u c h w ith and c h a n n e lin g the e n e rg y o f th e e a rth a n d its rich g ree n ery.

M y c lo s e s t c o m p a n io n s th a t d ay w e re d re s s e d as a b u tte rfly faerie, a fire fae rie , a n d M e d u s a (in b lues, g re e n s, a nd a flo w in g black gow n w ith s n a k e s w rith in g in h e r h air), W ith no c o n s c io u s p la n n in g , to g e th e r w e had m a n a g e d to ro u g h ly e m b o d y the fo u r e le m e n ts - e a rth , air, fire, a nd w a te r - w h ic h s e e m e d to e n d o w o u r little g ro u p w ith an a d d e d m e a s u re of m a g ic th a t day.

T h is v isio n felt so s tro n g a nd p o w e rfu l to m e, th a t I h ad to o p e n m y e ye s to re c o n n e c t m y s e lf w ith m y b o d y a n d th e re a litie s o f the m o m e n t. S till k n e e lin g w ith m y fa ce on the g ro u n d , I o p e n e d m y e yes a n d im m e d ia te ly saw in fro n t of m y fa c e on the g ra s s a red rib b o n . T h e re in fro n t of m y e ye s I sa w o n c e a ga in th e red of th e fire a nd the g re e n of the e a rth . A nd I th o u g h t to m yself, if I can re m e m b e r th is m o m e n t, I w ill re m e m b e r th is visio n.

T h e m a g ic of th e d ay w a s fu rth e r h e ig h te n e d by th e ritu a l th a t c re a te d the s p a c e fo r th e ra is in g o f th e M a yp ole . F irst, w e ca lle d the fo u r d ire c tio n s , a nd fa e rie s d re s s e d like the e le m e n ts , e n a c t­ ed th e ir a rriva l in o u r m id st. N ext, w e w itn e s s e d a d ra m a tiz a tio n of the s y m b o lic m e a n in g b e h in d th e fe rtility ritu a l o f th e M a yp ole , as Fa th e r S ky a nd M o th e r E a rth e n g a g e d in a d a n ce o f c o u rts h ip in the c e n te r o f the c irc le . Finally, a fte r F a th e r S k y a n d M o th e r E arth had c o m e to g e th e r in lo v e -m a k in g , the p o le w a s ra ised b e tw e e n the M o th e r E a rth ’s th ig h s - s y m b o liz in g th e su n 's im p re g n a tio n o f the e a rth th a t w a s re s p o n s ib le for n ot o n ly the rich fe rtility of s p rin g th a t s u rro u n d e d us, but a ls o th e a b u n d a n t h a rv e st to com e.

A s I s lo w ly ro se a nd to o k a d rin k o f w a te r fro m m y c o m p a n ­ ion s w h o w e re g a th e re d a ro u n d m e - all of us s e e m in g in tu itiv e ly to s e n s e th e im p o rt of the m o m e n t - I re a lize d tha t w e fa e rie s c o m e to g e th e r not s im p ly to p a rty a n d have a g o o d tim e ; w e c o m e to g e th e r o ut of a d e e p lo n g in g . W e c o m e to g e th e r to try to p ie ce to g e th e r o u r v is io n s - b o th for o u rs e lv e s a nd for o u r w o rld J o in in g to g e th e r, w e s u p p o rt e a ch o th e r in fin d in g o u r tru e se lve s, in re m e m b e rin g w h o w e are. W e c o m e to g e th e r to re call o u r fo rg o tte n d re a m s , a n d - in so re c a llin g th e m , w e h e lp e a ch o th e r to b uild a n ew w o rld in the im a g e of th o s e d re a m s a nd th o s e visio n s.

E D G E , Im b o lc 2 0 0 2

W ith th e ra isin g of th e M a yp ole , the g re a t fe s tive d a n c e c e le ­ b ratin g the u n io n of th e e a rth a nd th e sun , e ru p te d s p o n ta n e o u s ­ ly, and to g e th e r w e w e re all tra n s p o rte d into a n o th e r re a lm - the lim in al ritu al s p a c e w h e re w e fo u n d w e c o u ld e x p e rie n c e new insights, c o n n e c t w ith o th e r re a litie s, c o m m u n ic a te w ith o th e r w orld s. T h e M a yp o le a nd the ritu a ls s u rro u n d in g it b e c a m e o u r g atew ay to th is fa e rie spa ce.

I s p e n t m u ch of this tim e in m y c u s to m a ry p e rs o n a l ritu al of 3

RFD is a reader written journal focusing on queer country living and alternative lifestyles. It explores community, diverse sexuality, caring for the environment, radi­ cal faerie consciousness, nature-centered spirituality and sharing the experiences of our lives. RFD is produced by volunteer edi­ tors and contributors from around the US. Business and production are coordinated by I a collective in rural Tennessee;. _________ Submissions: Wo welcome your submissions. We’ll contact you if your submission is selected. We sometimes hold material for future issues. Contributors receive one copy of the issue in which their work appears. Second copy upon request. We may use materials on our web site unless you request otherwise.

Writing: Best format is on PC or Mac floppy disk as a Microsoft Word file or Rich Text format ( rtf), or as e-mail attachment. Always include a hard copy. We may edit for length (under 2500 words), spelling and puncuation.

Drawings: We always need more art. Send us good quality copies of black and white line drawings.

Photos Black and white reproduces best, but high contrast color can work. Please let us know if you want them returned. We now accept digital images. See website for more details.

Due Dates: November 1 for Winter, February 1 for Spring, May 1 for Summer, August 1 for Fall.

Advertising: Contact us for rate card.

Back Issues: Recent issues, $7ea., ppd. Many earlier issues available: please inquire.

Copyright: RFD is copyrighted. Credited material remains the property of contributor. Non-credited material may be republished freely with attribution.

Mailing: RFD is published quarterly and delivered around the solstice and equinox of each quarter. Second class mail takes a while. If you don’t receive your copy after a month, let us know. Second class mail is not forwarded.

Let us know if you move.

Photo: Jan Lynch

The Cover Cover Design: Howard Degeneres More of Howards work can be seen at: www.nemonine.com

RFD (ISSN# 0149-709X, DSPS # 073-010-00) is published quarterly for $25 per year by RFD Press. 247 Sanctuary lane.

Liberty, TN 37095.

Periodicals postage is paid at Liberty, TN and additional mail­ ing offices. Postmaster Send address changes to RFD. POBox 68. Liberty, TN 37095.

Non-profit tax exempt status #02-1723644, a function of RFD Press, Liberty, Tennessee

Front Cover: Photo of Rain by Howard De Chenes Inside Front Cover: Poem by Joel Crispin

RFD, Post Office Box 68 Liberty, TN 37095 615-556-5176 mail@rfdmag.org - www.rfdmag.org

Inside Back Cover: Drawing by Dickie

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Rebirth From Destruction RFD Rebirths

Sewn Lips. Black Lace & Slinky Hips by Horse

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This issue com es to you a s a ll o f us a re rebuilding fo m the destruction in our lives. In rebuilding RFD. production is entering the 21st century, being sent to the printer, fo r the first time, in total digital form at. Yet an other rebirthing.

Thanks fo r your support. Enjoy!

Raccoon River Homestead by Cotton

36

The Lemon-Fresh Joy of Dishwashing by Penny

Centerfold Special Rebels, Rubyfruit and Rhinestones: Queering space in the Stonewall south. An excerpt from the James T. Sears book featuring the section on Short Mountain Sanctuary

Articles Recalling Forgo ten Dreams by Edge

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Written on the Road by Randaddy excerpts from his walking across amerika

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Photo Features

How Elf Got Green Man’s Cherry by Dragnfire

18

Fed Ex by Bow Young Anybody Queer Here by Mountaine His joutney to Nepal Rebels, Rubyfruit and Rhinstnes by James T. Sears

20

Crazy Owl at Wolf Creek Naraya 2000

by Bow Young Damon by Kwai Mutt by Jai Kwai Damon Kiss by Kwai

22 26

Returning to the Scene of a Crime

by MaxZine Weinstein

28

Laparoscopic Fertility Ritual by Tucker Leiberman

29

Bear Essentials by Ron Suresha excerpts from his book Bears on Bears

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38

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1 25 30 52

Departments Letters - 6. Gardening - 8, Spirituality - 12, Fiction - 18, Communions - 20, Politics - 28. Poetry - 39, Prison Pages - 42, Book Reviews - 40, Faerie Contacts - 40, Contact Letters - 46.

31 Jim Mitulski Contributors Kirk Read 16 Bill Bower 30 Kwai 25, 52 Billy Troth 31 Lawrence L. Shrout Bow Young 1,20,21 40-41 Cindy Sproul 31 MaxZine Weinstein Cotton 36,37 28-29 Dancing Mane 8 Michael Grindemann Dragonfire 18-19 42-43 Edge 3,12,41 22-24 Mountaine Eric Bonfig 36,37 38-39 Penny Eric “Bucky" Campbell 33 10-11 Randaddy Gecko 9 Robert Giard 48 Horse 34-35 Ron Suresha 31-33 Jai Sheronda 30,35 26 Sam Hunter Jan Lynch 19 Tom Lightwater 14-15 James M. W'oodard 43 29 Tucker Lieberman James S. Petty 9 Vin Constabileo 12-15 James T. Sears 26-27, 48 Willie Cole 17 Jerry Boyd 19

Editors

Production Team

Advertising: available Books: Curmudgeon Fiction: Fred Lowe Food: Bow Young, NY Poetry: available Political: MaxZine Weinstein Prisoner Pages: Matt Defiler Spirituality: L. Luxury

Gabby 1laze, John Wall.

Scotty Heron, Lapis. Snuffy, Leopard. B, Sr Missionary P Delight. Edge. Mailing Crew: Keith Thomason, Stv, Sylvan and the gang.

A special thanks to Colette & Michael at The Trust Factor for all their assistance in getting this first digital issue out!

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Letters to I am very excited To the editors aka the collective, I am very excited to be submit­ ting to you my first articles for pub­ lication in RFD: ’ Remembering Forgotten Dreams"; my introduction for this month's spirituality section, "Making Connections"; and a book review on Out in the Castro. It has been an exciting new challenge for me to write these essays over the last few weeks. I offer them with all humility and a strong sense of the challenges 1 face as a writer today.

When 1 saw this issue's ethereal­ ly beautiful cover posted in the RFD office, with "Remembering Forgotten Dreams" calling out from a post-it(a proposed acronym for this RFD), I immediately knew I had to write the piece 1 am submitting to you. Within a few days, this story came out all of a piece -- in the early morning hours when the muse sometimes seems to flow through me. The story has been gestating in my mind for almost 5 years. 1 was inspired by RFD and my faerie tribe to bring this story into words, and 1 feel honored and privileged to be able to offer these words (as well as many more, I hope) to our commu­ nity in this venerable vessel.

I really like the idea of having a theme for each issue (e.g., Remembering Forgotten Dreams) that is announced in advance. For example, I would propose for future issues of RFD Summer 2002: Summer of Sleaze Fall 2002: Really Funky Dates Winter 2002-03: Remnants of Forgotten Discourses If the submission deadlines were

included along with the themes, our reader-contributors could submit works as they feel called by the theme. Developing interesting themes might not only provide readers with more compelling rea­ sons to contribute to specific issues; it would also give more cohesion and coherence to each issue (the benefits of which were quite evident to me in the new and improved Winter 2001 issue themed around W ar/Raging Fires Destroy). The cohesion of both the look (especially more consistency in font size and type) and the theme of that issue impressed upon me that this is a serious publication worthy of seri­ ous attention.

Keep up the good work! Thanks, love, and peace to all, EDGE edge2000edge@yahoo.com Editorial note: Thanks Edge fo r your excitement about the changes happening at RFD as well as your recent joining o f the collective. You will notice that we are setting up a call with themes fo r the next two or three issues in this issue.

Submission guidelines and deadlines are always avalable i)i the magazine or on the website.

D isappointed with the dow nsizing Dear RFD, I was very disappointed with the downsizing of your last issue, but then again understand the financial constraints that have to be consid­ ered. Although 1 would like to see a printed issue, I would entertain the possibility of receiving RFD on line for a subscription price rather than to see the magazine fold completely.

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Just my thoughts.......

Alan A. Schultz, Brighton,Ma. fcas@mindspring.com Editorial note: Alan. We too were not happy about having to cut the number o f pages in RFD. We have secured a new printer locally, changed to fu ll digi­ tal production, meaning that pictures, drawings or word all cost the same because they are all digits. You will notice that there are more pages in this issue and we hope to have more in the next.

Since you ask, h ere’s w hat I think We now worry about out-of-con­ trol nuclear proliferation (eg, India & Pakistan). We wonder how they could be so horrible and backward.

Only a half-century ago, unlike India and Pakistan, we could say that we actually used these weapons. Call it the Law of Three, What goes around, comes around, Karmic retribution, Whatever. We are the makers of our own results.

Not the victims of others’ misguided actions. It’s all about taking respon­ sibility for the eternal cycle of life in which we inexorably participate.

Bright blessings, to you, children of the light on this snowy, starry night.

Peregrine.

(Atlanta)

M y H eart Sings Dear faerie brothers, Each time I pick up the latest issue of RFD at our local bookseller, my heart sings. This time was no exception, only now I feel compelled to write and congratulate you on the

the collective simple, yet obvious new direction the publication is taking. It looks great.

As a gay man in my early forties who believed he had kicked the door off his closet some thirty years ago, it amazes me to discover that my true coming out did not occur until finding myself amongst the magical tribe of faerie brothers just a few years ago.

Like many, my fear of coming out was compounded by the belief that I was the only one who pos­ sessed the sexual desire for other men. And after coming out, it soon became my belief that I was the only gay man who sought a deeper con­ nection with other men that extend­ ed beyond the superficiality of ripped abs and the attitude that accompanies them. As one faerie aptly commented, "I seek a man with a buff spirit, not a buff body".

I have discovered that deeper con­ nection through my faerie brothers and RFD does a wonderful job cap­ turing this glorious collective of faeries in all their idiosyncratic splendour.

Thank you, full circle (aka Tim Hiltz) fu Ilcircle_vanc@hotma il.com.

306 - 1816 Haro Street Vancouver, B.C. V6G 2Y7 604 688-1997

Applause!

I applaud your anti-war cover on issue 108. It was a pleasure to see.

San Francisco, CA 94117

Thanks for starting B.B.B.

Dearest True Friend,

Hi,

A Free Press is so important.

Keep RFD's content and policies free from interference bv corporate advertisers.

Thanks for starting B.B.B. again in your magazine. I probably wouldn't have renewed if it had been out for good.

The more Gender Transcendence the better. I loved the Drag Kings photos. Let us celebrate diversity: I would like the whole range of genetic body types and genders to submit photos.

Enclosed is a small check to pay for your extra postage.

I also especially appreciate the spiritual focus, and 1 might also sub­ scribe to White Crane for more depth in queer spirituality, psychol­ ogy and history.

Edward Camp 154 Tenth Street #1 SF CA 84193 415-437-2629

Losing its ap peal.....

Dear RFD, Here is my renewal of 25$ for one more year. Truthfully, your magazine is losing its appeal to me, so this may be my last year. There are many reasons, mainly - the last issue really did not appeal to me on a lot of levels, but I will see in the next few months if it does. It has been a nice ten years, with a lot of ups and downs.

A fruitful and bright solstice to all.

Good luck,

Bound Together Books An Anarchistic Collective 1369 Haight Street

Durango, CO 81301

Keep RFD com ing!

William Edwards PO Box 5221

7

Edward Charland 324 School Street. Apt. 10 Enosburg Falls, VT 05450

Enjoying your mag since 1990 Hi RFD, I have been enjoying your maga­ zine since 1990, in fact you were the catalyst that got me started on my pagan radical faiere spiritual path. I picked up an RFD in a San Francisco bookstore, found where gatherings were being held, made the contact and came screaming and flaming out of the closet and into faiereland.

YEE HAAA!!! I am an active mem­ ber of the faiere community in Seattle, participate and lead in many rituals. I am part of a gay men's coven that is just starting. Much growth over the past years and I have enjoyed every one of your issues. Thanks.

Hugs and Love, Dolphin DaddyFyn@aol.com.

V io le t W o o d S o rre l (O x a lis vio­ la c e a ) s p ro u ts fro m a c o rm -lik e bu lb and is a p e re n n ia l p la nt. E a ch in d iv id u a l leaf an d e a ch of th e s in g le flo w e rs arise Seasonal 9{ptes About the W ild 'Plants fro m th e bu lb on th e ir ow n se p a ra te ‘J o u n d in the Southeastern VSys p in d ly ste m . T h e b lo s s o m s usually a p p e a r in m id -s p rin g only. S o m e tim e s

by M ancnuf Q=ynane the fo lia g e d is a p p e a rs in d ry o r e x ce s­ siv e ly ho t su m m e rs . O c c a s io n a lly it will p o p ba ck up w ith a flo w e r o r tw o if A u tu m n ra in s c o m e e a rly e n o u g h .

V io le t W o o d S o rre l is u s u a lly fo u n d in V a rio u s s p e c ie s of th e g e n u s O x a lis o c c u r as rich soil in m a tu re w o o d la n d .. co m m o n p la n ts in h a b ita ts ra n g in g fro m rich w ild If o n e n ib b le s the le a ve s of an y O xa lis, a tart, w o o d va lleys, to m e a d o w s an d p a stu re s, to in h o s ­ p ita b le urb a n la w n s an d v a c a n t lots. All the c o m ­ s o u r ta s te is n o ted. For th is re a so n , a few sn ippe d m on O x a lis s p e c ie s a re e a s ily re c o g n iz a b le by lie a ve s ca n m a ke a p le a s n t a d d ito n to e n live n a th e ir s h a m ro c k -lik e leaves, ea ch w ith th re e h e a rt- sa la d . T h e s o u rc e of th e p iq u a n t fla v o r is th e oxal­ ic acid in the le a ve s a n d ste m s. (T h is is sa fe to s h a p e d lobes.

S e vera l re g io n a l v e n a c u la r c o n s u m e in re la tiv e ly s m a ll q u a n titie s .) n a m e s are a p p lie d to th e s e p la n ts Y o u n g ste rs s o m e tim e s nib b le on the in a d d itio n to O x a lis , a n d im m a tu re se e d po ds, w h ich re se m ­ in c lu d e W o o d S o rre l and ble tin y pickle s, th u s g iv in g rise to S h e e p S o rrel. a n o th e r c o m m o n n a m e : “ Pickle G ra ss.”

T h e tw o m o st com m on ty p e s A n u m b e r o f in te re s t­ e n c o u n te re d in ing an d a ttra c tiv e sp ecies th e e a s te rn half of N o rth a re s o m e tim e s e m p lo y e d in g a rd e n s as A m e ric a a re c u ltiv a te d p la n ts. These V io le t W ood in c lu d e p e re n n ia l form s S o rre l, w h ic h w ith b rig h t p in k flow ers h a s lila c to o r w h ite flo w e rs, and p u rp lis h c o l­ e v e n a c u ltiv a r w ith o re d b lo s ­ la rg e p u rp le leaves. som s (illu s ­ tra te d at th e A ra th e r u n iq u e and rig h t), and the in te re s tin g a s p e c t of C o m m o n Yellow O x a lis s p e c ie s is th a t S o rrel. both th e ir le a ve s an d their flo w e rs re tra c t a n d “close Yellow S o rre l' u p ” a t n ig h t an d on clo udy s p e c ie s , ( O x a lis ' days. s tric ta an d others,) V io le t W ood S o rrel ty p ic a lly a p p e a r in [O x a lis v io la c e a ] s u n n y lo c a tio n s a n d a re m a n y -b ra n c h e d So, e n jo y y o u r s p rin g , fe llo w garden p la n ts w h ich g ro w as an s p rite s ...a n d H A P P Y G A R D E N IN G ! a n n u a l. It ca n s o m e tim e s be a b u n d a n t to the p o in t of b e in g c o n s id e re d a w e e d in flo w e rb e d s an d g a rd e n s. Y ellow S o rre l b e g in s to b lo sso m in late s p rin g an d m ay c o n tin u e to g ro w an d blo om D A N C IN G M A N E d e s c rib e s h im s e lf a s a ru ra l-d w e llin g lo n g ­ a lm o s t c o n tin u o u s ly th ro u g h fa ll u n til fro s t. h a ire d natureboy, a s e n sitive , g e n tle satyr, in tim a te ly bou nd N u m e ro u s flo w e rs an d a d d itio n a l fo lia g e a re b o rn e to n a tu re a nd th e e n v iro n m e n t, a nd a p a s s io n a te ly d e d ic a t­ all a lo n g the tra ilin g s te m s as th e p la n t gro w s. ed g a rd e n e r/la n d s c a p e r/b o ta n is t w h o w o u ld w e lc o m e q u e s ­ Y ellow S o rre l o fte n p ro ve s to be an a m a z in g ly tion s, c o m m e n ts , o r c o m m u n ic a tio n s fro m fe llo w fa e rie plant to u g h su rvivo r, an d it p ro d u c e s a b u n d a n t se e d s p irits -e s p e c ia lly lo n g -h a ire d o ne s! W rite d o RFD. e n a b lin g it to re tu rn in s u b s e q u e n t ye ars.

The Wild Garden

8

Garden Eden Revisited ...B y James S. Petty I guess if I'm not part of the ecological solution I’m part of the ecological problem.

My way of being a part of the solution is to hus­ band mv 30x8 foot board-fenced-in garden into a HUMMING-BIRD/BUTTERFLY SPECIALTY GARDEN. I have planted 45 flowers especially desireable to these two species. Doesn’t even need to be that big to be effective. A much smaller plot will work just fine. It will give back to these beautiful and entertaining creatures a bit of what they have given us.

Here is a list of some of the more popular plants in order of their preference for them as I have observed it: 1. Cardinal Flower - 4’, brilliant carmine red [used to be on the endangered species list.

Ubiquitous now. ) American Indians used the blos­ soms to make red dye for their clothes, feathers, moccasins and jackets. Likes moisture (garden hose) or near a stream.

2. Butterfly Bush - 6x4' blossoms white, purple, royal red, light blue, yellow etc.

3. Butterfly Weed (Asclepias) 2’. orange , yellow 4. Verbena (Ground Cover) Purple ("Homestead ”,) Red, Yellow, White 5. Honeysuckle Japanese (Red) less invasive than our native.

6. Solidago Odora - Goldenrod 15" - Anise fra­ grant leaves steeped by American Indians for tea (tonic) 7. Shasta Daisy (Many more flowering plants are attractive to humming birds and butterflies - see AOL).

Hummingbird Feeders - we have two in our space. No need for colored commercial liquid food - plain (uncolored) sugar water is fine. See AOL for measurements and keeping feed­ ers fungus free. Their antics are entertaining and fascinating. You haven't lived til you've been "dive bombed by the males at speeds of up to 55 MPH. They like red feeders best. The ones with little plastic yellow feeding ports seem to attract honey bees, bumblebees, yellow-jackets and hornets which annoy the hummers.

A regular bird seed feeder and a thistle tube feeder for the goldfinches add color and interest.

Chipmunks will show up - they like peanuts (unroasted) and corn.

A bubbling birdbath is welcomed by the birds.

Particularly nice is to have your naked man stomping through your Eden like God in the cool of the evening.

Enjoy!

Jim is a free-lance writer retired to Black Mountain, NC.

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W ritten on the R oad by R andaddy A p ril 7, 2001 I'm w ritin g on o n e o f o u r m a p s th a t we've a lre a d y u sed . We w ere fo llo w in g those tra in tra c k s south u n til we go t to P a ris (Illin o is), a s m a ll town w ith a n im p o sin g 1H93 c o u rth o u s e , th riv ­ in g town s q u a r e a n d stately th o u g h d e c a y in g - m a n sio n s.

Q uite a c o n tra s t to th e b lea k ly d e p ressed -lo o k in g tow ns w e've p a s s e d th ro u g h .

T h is h a s b een a co o l t r ip ...c o ld in fa ct, th o u g h now it's g e t t in g w a rm e r a n d th e la st w oods we c a m p e d in w ere c a r p e t e d w ith th e new ly s p ro u te d trilliu m s , tro ut lilies, toothw ort a n d m a n y o th ers w h ich I've no id e a w h a t to ca ll.

O u r p ro g r e s s h a s b een WAY slow ­ e r th a n p ro je c t, th o u g h my b lis ­ ters a r e t u r n i n g to c a llo u s e s a n d M ark's so re l e g m u s c le s a r e g r a d u a lly a c q u ie s c in g to th e r e g ­ u l a r b u rd e n o f a 5 0 p o u n d fr a m e p a c k . (We've g o n e a b o u t 100 m iles.)

G otta h a v e so m e g o o d sn a ck s, a ft e r all. Most o f o u r w eig h t is u sa lly in food, a s h ik in g m a k es even a p ro d ig io u s a p p e tite m o re p ro d ig io u s-er.

T h e woods a n d c r e e k s w e've stayed a t h a v e b e en lu sh a n d lovely a n d w e're not ev en clo se to S h a w n e e N a tio n a l P a r k yet. I'm g la d to h e a r th e c a ll o f th e b a r r e d owl a lm o st ev ery n ig h t, as they h a r a n g u e u s w ith t h e ir tro p ic a l m o n k ey c a lls (hoo hoo hoo h a h a h a ).

T h e h u m a n s a r e at tim es e q u a lly d r a m a t ic th o u g h fo rtu n a t ely th e J e s u s fr e a k w ho s ta rte d a s k in g us i f we w ere q u e e r a n d how we c o u ld b u rn in h e ll fo r b u ttfu ck in g h a s b een th e ex cep tio n .

S o u th o f P a ris th e r a ilr o a d g r a d e , lo n g s in c e a b a n d o n e d , t u r n e d i nto i m p a ssa b le j u n g le.

S o we took to th e b a c k ro a d s.

T h e m iles fe e l s tr e t c h e d o ut lik e taffy as th e fla t g r i d o f

C h a m p a ig n C ou nty h a s g iv en o v er to th e h ills a n d c u rv e s o f m o re s o u t h e rn co u n ties.

Y esterday's 15 m ile w alk fe lt lik e 30. As we sa t re s tin g , e x h a u s te d , in fr o n t o f N ew eill C em etery (the n o r t h b o u n d w in d s h a v in g p o u n d e d o u r s o u th b o u n d p r o g r e s s in to su b m issio n ) two d u d e s sto p p ed a n d o ffe re d us a rid e , b u t we d e c lin e d . We're w a lk in g ev ery step o f th e way.

A p r il 9 A h , L a w re n c e v ille . T h is town m a rk s th e m o re th a n h a l f way m a r k o f o u r w a lk fro m C h a m p a ig n to S h a w n e e . On th e way h e r e a c a r th a t h a d p a s s e d us r e v e r s e d a n d h a lte d b e sid e us.

A fa m ily w as in s id e it. T hey a s k e d w h e re we w ere g o in g a n d w ere k n o w le d g e a b le a b o u t S h a w n e e . T h en th e u lte rio r m otive - they a s k e d i f w e'd lik e to ta k e a copy o f th e W atchtow er with us. J e h o v a h 's w itn esses!

N e v e r th o u g h t I'd b e p ro sely tiz ed on th e ro a d . T h a n k s , b u t my b a c k p a c k is h eavy e n o u g h w ith­ o u t th e w eig h t o f th e L o rd .

A few m in u te s a g o a w om an a s k e d u s w h ere w e're g o in g . S h e h a n d e d m e $ 5 a n d s a id G od h a d to ld h e r to. T h e re 's m oney in it so m etim es so I'm tru ly g r a t e f u l to th e lo rd . S e e m s re lig io n is a ll a r o u n d us, in th e p e o p le a n d th e p la c e s . B u t as H a z ra t In a y a t K h a n says "n a tu re is th e r e a l tem p le, th e t r u e r e lig io n .” A n d so I've b e e n r e v e lin g in th e m u sic o f th e w oods. T h e re 's a lot g o in g o n : b ird s o f m a n y sp ecies, a b u n d a n t ticks, g a l e fo rc e w inds. Y esterday l h e a r d th e voice o f a s n a k e r a s p i n g a p h r a s e in a n in c o m ­ p r e h e n s ib le to n g u e. Oh w ell.

(B a c k tea h a s b een my stro n g est d r u g .)

W e're on a two da y w a lk in g - two d a y r e s t in g s c h e d u le , w h ich is only o n e o f th e re a s o n s fo r o u r le is u re ly p r o g re s s . On th e days o f rest, we r e a d a n d cook on o u r 10

tiny stove w h ich ta k es u n le a d e d fu e l.

B u t re a lly I c a n 't im a g in e g o in g an y fa s t e r th a n this. To w alk 15 m iles with a 5 0 p o u n d p a c k a t a stea d y p a c e ta k es m ost o f th e day. T h en you h a v e to set u p th e ten t a n d cook, w h ich is e a s ie r to a cco m p lish b efo re d a r k . We're u su a lly in "b a g” r ig h t a ft e r s u n ­ dow n a n d u p at d a w n .

At th is m o m en t w e're in th e city p a r k o f L a w re n c e v ille try in g to fig u r e o u t w h ere to c a m p to n ig h t. In R o b in so n we slep t on th e flo o r o f a p i c n i c s h elter.

A p ril 27, 20 0 1 I s e n d a sm o o ch to a ll o f you th e r e in W hipoorw ill H o ller.

R ig h t now I'm in th e S h a w n e e N a tio n a l F o re s t w h ich s p a n s the s o u th e rn tip o f Illin o is. H ik in g th e riv er-to -riv er tra il th a t g o e s fro m th e O hio to th e M ississip p i.

My, my, my, n e v e r th o u g h t Illin o is h a d s u c h n a t u r a l w on­ d ers. Today M a rk a n d I fo llo w ed L u s k C re e k into its ca n y o n o f g ia n t ro c k cliffs. Sw im , sw am a n d sw um . T h e n g o t lost. It's h a r d to g e t lost fo llo w in g a c re e k b u t we m a n a g e d it.

B u t so f a r th e m ost im p ressiv e p a r t w as th e G a r d e n o f th e G ods (a n d G odesses) w h ich h a s th ese sa n d s to n e fo rm a tio n s th a t look lik e h u m a n a n d a n im a l h e a d s .

A nyw ay th e y ’r e g o d s, a n d they sit s t a r in g at a vast fo re s t w ild e r­ n ess to th e west. A t s u n s e t w h ip ­ p o o rw ills w ere g o i n g a t it fro m every d ire c tio n , e c h o in g th ro u g h th e valley, a n d th e p la c e b e ca m e g o ld e n w ith th e f a d i n g ligh t, a n d tra n q u il, ev en th o u g h I w as p e r c h e d v ertig in o u sly ato p a sto n e m a m m o th , th e g r o u n d s lo p in g 2 0 0 fe e t below.

We set o u t on M a rc h 21, 2 0 0 1 . It took us fo u r w eeks to cro ss th e b lea k ly fla t a n d m o n o tn o u s w a stela n d s o f a g rib u s in e s s Illin o is. A t r u e test o f re s o u rc e s a n d u n d u r a n c e . B u t now w e're

h e re on a d iffic u lt t r a il w ith no p eo p le a ro u n d . We s t a r t e d o f f with th e in ten tio n o f w a lk in g to C a lifo rn ia , m ostly b e c a u s e it s o u n d e d go o d . N ow I'm w o n d e r­ in g WHAT T H E H E L L AM I D O IN G ? W H Y? H O W ?

At the sa m e tim e I'm t h in k in g "why o f c o u r s e , Illin o is to C a lifo rn ia , n o p r o b le m , a p ie c e o f ca k ew a lk , a S u n d a y stro ll acro ss th e c o n t in e n t ." W hich p ro v es m y la c k o f re a s o n , I g u e s s .

It's a k in d o f m id -life d e lir iu m o r so m eth in g . It m u st b e p o w e r fu l to p ro p e l m e u p a n d dow n steep slopes with a 2 0 0 p o u n d b a c k ­ pack.

In G rayville we w ere h a r a n g u e d by b e e r sw illin g d u d e s w ho k e p t s h o u tin g a b o u t 'b ig fa t d i c k ” to the ex ten t th a t we w a lk e d o u t o f town a t n ig h t only to be sto p p ed by the lo ca l co p w ho n e e d e d to "check o u r ID's". In C a rm i, a n ice w aitress in a d i n e r w rote dow n th e p h o n e n u m b e r s o f a ll the lo ca l d e n tis ts fo r m e b u t n o n e o f th em w o u ld see m e.

Today w e're m o v in g on to a sm a ll town c a lle d E d d y v ille w hich is o n e o f th e few tow ns on the tra il w ith a g e n e r a l sto re in w hich to buy g r o c e r i e s a n d g e n ­ e ra litie s a n d g a s f o r th e ca m p stove. We’r e a lr e a d y lo a d e d dow n with g r o c e r ie s b e c a u s e we took a h u g e d e t o u r u p to H a r r i s b u r g so th a t I c o u ld f i n d a d e n tis t to p u ll a p a i n f u l m o la r a n d buy a p a i r o f sh o es I c a n w a lk in.

T h e fa n c y h i k i n g sh o es I g o t fo r this w alk a r e m y e x a c t size, w hich w o u ld b e g r e a t i f my fe e t h a d n ’t sw ollen a size o r two l a r g ­ er. So I took th em to S a lv a tio n Army. I s a id "here, th e s e co st m e $130 a n d th e y ’r e k illin g m e."

T h en we w en t to P a y L ess a n d I got a p a i r o f s u e d e slip -o n s th a t fee l lovely.

w ho p a s s e d us a n d th en a fte r sh e d r o p p e d o f f h e r h u s b a n d c a m e b a c k a n d ta lk e d o u r e a rs off. A n d a n o ld g u y with fie r c e b lu e eyes w ho o ffe re d us J e s u s a n d s e v e ra l p a m p h le ts in Van B u r e n . R ig h t now w e're ab o u t fiv e m iles so uth o f th e re at B ig S p r in g , a tru ly r e m a r k a b le n a t u ­ r a l w o n d er. T h e s p r in g b u b b les o ut o f th e b a se o f a c l i f f with the voice o f a w a te rfa ll a n d th e fo rc e o f 2 4 6 m illio n g a llo n s daily. T h is is th e c o ld c l e a r w a ter I n e e d to r e h y d r a t e my d ry b ones. T h e w alk h e r e fro m G re e n v ille w as a test o f e n d u r a n c e . We ra n ou t o f fo o d a n d w ere n e a r fa in t in g fro m th e h e a t a n d h ills w hen we m a d e it to town a n d sto ck ed up on s u p p lie s to co m e h e r e a n d re s t a few days. We s t a g g e r e d in h e r e la st n ig h t, g r o p i n g o u r way to w a rd th e s p r in g in th e d a r k ­ n ess o f low -battery fla s h lig h ts . I w o n d e r w hat th e A m e ric a n I n d ia n s th o u g h o f th is p la c e , fo r it is r ic h w ith yin p o w e r o f th e u n d e r g r o u n d w a ter g u s h i n g up.

It is m o re d iffic u lt to w alk t h r o u g h M isso u ri th a n Illin o is b e c a u s e o f th e O za rk h ills a n d th e n a t u r e o f th e M isso u ri topo m a p w h ich t h r e e tim es so f a r h a s in d ic a t e d a r o a d w hich le a d s u s to th e m id d le o f n o w h e re a n d th e n c e a s e s to exist.

E a c h tim e we h a v e fla ile d o n w a rd t h r o u g h w oods n o t as g e n t le a n d we h a v e m a n a g e d to f i n d th e ro a d , a ft e r c o n s id e r a b le c o n s te rn a tio n a n d ev en tre s p a s s ­ in g . We’ve b e en w a r n e d by a lo c a l r e s id e n t th a t tre s p a s s in g c a n b e p a r t i c u la r ly d a n g e r o u s i f you r u n in to so m eb o d y ’s m a r i­ j u a n a p a t c h w h ich is no t u n u s u ­ a l in th e s e p a rts .

M a rk a n d I a r e e x h a u s t e d a n d c o v e re d in itc h so res m ostly fro m tick s w h ich w ere even t h ic k e r th a n th e cotton m outh s n a k e s I May 16, 2 0 0 1 w as s h a r i n g th e c r e e k p u d d le w ith. T ick s on th e tent, in th e We’r e in big, b ra w n y M isso u ri, the sta te o f M a rk T w ain a n d a ten t, in th e s le e p in g b a g, in my cu te g u y n a m e d ’M c I n t y r e ” w ho a rm p its a n d c ro tc h . I do not love sto p p ed h is c a r a ll t h r e e tim es th em . I f I c o u ld g iv e th em unb eg r u d g i n g l y my b lo o d a n d flesh h e p a s s e d u s to g iv e u s b e e r a n d e n c o u ra g e m e n t . A lso th e h o m e o f th en I c o u ld be lik e St. F r a n c is E s th e r T ria l, a n e ld e rly w om an (b u t I ’m j u s t a sissy!).

S u re ly / still am b a ffle d w hen p e o p le a sk why w e're w a lk in g a cro ss th e co u n try . D is c u s s in g o u r L u d d ite te n d e n c ie s seem s rid ic u lo u s in th e fa c e o f c a r c u l ­ tu re. I t r ie d to e x p la in to a c o u ­ p le o f d iffe r e n t p eo p le, th a t I so ld my p ic k u p tru c k so we c o u ld w alk. T hey re s p o n d e d in a m u s e d d isb elief.

R ig h t now w e're c a m p e d out in M a rk Tivain N a tio n a l F o rest.

S o m eh o w we h a v e to h a n g out h e r e fo r a w eek w ithout g e t t in g k ic k e d out. We c a m p out o f sig h t i f we c a n , not in c a m p g ro u n d s , b u t in c h o ic e r lo ca tio n s w ithout fees.

We h a v e to be h e r e a w eek b e c a u s e B eth is c o m in g to visit fro m C h a m p a ig n a n d s h e ’s h o p e ­ fu lly b r in g in g som e b ig fa t jo in ts b e c a u s e we h a v en 't sm o k ed s in c e s p r in g e q u in o x . Wip also n e e d to h e a l o u r feet a n d in M a r k ’s ca se a n u s , b e c a u s e h e w as b e in g n a u r e boy in th e w oods a n d w ip ed h is a rs e with w hat we now su s p e c t w as poison su m a c. H e is a b so lu tely liv id with itc h in g , esp ecia lly at n ig h t w hen h e ’s still.

In th e town o f M a rb le H ill we e n c o u n t e r e d o u r w orst c a s e o f h o m o h a te s in c e th e r a n t in g d r u n k in R o b in so n . S e v e r a l g u y s c a m e to sw im a t th e c r e e k w h ere we w ere c a m p in g a n d they left us with a variety o f th e u s u a l exp letiv es. W hat d o es it m ea n w hen so m eo n e says, ’E v en g a y p e o p le bleed "? (I c o u l d n ’t tell w h e th e r th a t w as a t h re a t o r a w o rd o f co m p a ssio n .) O th erw ise w e’ve h a d g o o d e n c o u n te rs . I lik e M isso u ria n s a n d t h e ir b o u n cy d ra w l. In g e n e r a l th e y ’r e f r i e n d ­ lie r th a n y o u r ty p ica l Illin o is a n .

I w o n d er w hat it w ill be lik e in A rk a n s a s a n d O k la h o m a . I am w o rrie d a b o u t la ck o f w a ter in th e d ry p a r t s o f th e co u n try a h e a d o f us.

We’r e r e a d in g an e d ib le p la n ts g u id e . M a rk is c a r r y in g a heavy v olum e o f "History o f th e W orld" a n d I ’m r e a d in g ’T h e Odyssey"

by H o m er. I t ’s fin e to be out h e re , even w ith th e in sects a n d la ck o f a hom e.

To be continued next issue

11

Spirituality Making Connections

by Edge pirituality is an overused word and an ambiguous concept. For most Americans, spirituality has come to be used as another word for religion; it is generally understood as one's own personal approach to the religious aspects of life The word religion comes from the Latin root religion, meaning to bind together.

Religion can thus be understood as that which binds us together.

Unfortunately, religion has for millennia been used as a pretext for creating divisions and sepa­ rations among people. The long history of various religions’ misunderstanding and mistreatment of queers has left many of us understandably inclined to leave the whole idea of religion on the trash heap of history - choosing instead to forge our own individual paths.

So we are left to struggle on our own to develop our own personal understandings of spir­ ituality - the instinct to seek out that which binds us together. I view our religious instinct as that small voice somewhere deep inside each of us that tells us that we are in fact connected with all the rest of creation.

Since the dawning of the so-called Age of Reason, scientific method has sought to divide and conquer in its quest for knowledge and understanding. As a result, spirituality has become individualized and marginalized - some­ thing located at the edges of our culture’s exis­ tence.

In stark contrast, most indigenous cultures locate spirituality at the core of their existence the root from which all of life springs. It is what gives form and shape to the myriad confusing creatures, spirits, and experiences we encounter as humans walking on this earth.

The dictionary defines radical as “going to the root, fundamental, basic". I see many radical faeries today returning to their cultural roots to learn from ancient indigenous cultures and pagan traditions. As we do so, we are learning new ways to confront our experiences of this life, which often involve connecting with ancient understandings of that which binds us together what connects us all.

I myself have been searching and striving for years for spiritual understanding that would help me to find meaning and purpose in my life that

S

transcends human immortality, a sense of con­ nection with the world around me. and a greater sense of feeling at home in my skin and on this earth. Some of my sources include: *My family’s Christianity, where I’ve found in the life of Jesus of Nazareth a role model who loved others as they were, preached that the world of the divine is within each of us, and spent his life communing with marginalized individuals and offering his healing word to all who were open to it. His preaching was so revolutionary that it caused the religious and civil authorities to join forces to put him to death.

•Unitarian Universalism. where I’ve experi­ enced the potential of a non-creedal religious movement that is founded not on a shared belief in a particular set of religious dogma, but is instead rooted in shared values with a commit­ ment to working for social and environmental jus­ tice and peace.

•Studying psychology and engaging in psy­ chotherapy. I have gained a deeper connection with my emotions and greater awareness of the factors that shape my own and others' personali­ ties and actions. ‘ Studying Buddhism and practicing medita­ tion. I’ve gained insight into the power of focusing and emptying the mind, as well as awareness of the connection between expectations, attach­ ments, and suffering.

•Practicing yoga. I’ve found an appreciation of the power of uniting mind and body in the process of stretching myself beyond my pre-conceived limits in the goal of learning and growth.

•Studying feminism. I’ve gained a critical per­ spective on the foundational biases of American majority (read: patriarchal) culture, as well as a deeper appreciation of the centrality of relation­ ships and interactivity to human thriving.

•From native American cultures. pre-

of these influences: I try to engage as intentional­ ly as possible in all my relationships; I seek to better understand and live out my own unique destiny, and I try to walk with awareness on the daily path of my life.

By attuning myself to the cycles of the earth's seasons, the moon's phases, and the movements of the planets and the stars, I contin­ ue to gain a growing appreciation of the power of the circle (thanks especially to the elders of the Narraya dance and other Native American and faerie teachers), the overriding orderliness of the universe, as well as the powerful creative tension between order and chaos, light and shadow (thanks especially to Robert Johnson) -- all of which I am coming to experience as integral parts of the rich wholeness of life itself.

Because spirituality - as it is understood in our culture - is fundamentally a personal experi­ ence, we can only understand what spirituality means to each of us by sharing with one another our individual experiences - our stories - of our spirituality.

The spirituality section of RFD encourages all of its readers (that includes you!) to share sto­ ries of the experiences that have shaped and continue to enrich our personal and communal spiritual lives. Through such sharing, we have the opportunity to enrich ourselves and our com­ munity.

The following essays are offered in this spirit.

Christian European pagan .tradiiions* andLAfrican

By Vin Constabileo

and other indigenous cosmologies. I’ve discov­ ered a heightened respect for this remarkable planet, tapping into the power, wisdom, and teachings of the natural world, as well as a new understanding of the spiritual root of all of cre­ ation.

•Finally, from my newly found tribe, the radi­ cal faeries. I’ve gained love and support in being myself, following my instincts, inclinations and intuitions, and placing my spirituality at the core of my existence.

Today, my spintual practice incorporates all 12

Namaste, EDGE edge2000edge@yahoo.com

First Sweat fter attending my first drumming circle, an attempt at dealing with years of spiritual lethargy, I heard about an annual sweat lodge held around the winter solstice. Being new to this group of gay men and new to drumming. I was a bit hesitant to join their sweat. I didn't know what to expect from the ceremony. However, I felt exited by the idea of attending and inexplicably drawn to this Native American tradition.

Arrival at the location where the sweat lodge was to take place was awkward. I sat alone, feel

tree. I saw a flock of birds, making quite a racket I studied their behavior. Acorn Woodpeckers are a uniquely communal species Few in their group breed, but all share in the responsibilities of rais­ ing the young. Again I felt myself clas­ sifying and analyzing rather than allow­ ing myself to expenence.

I looked up again, this time won­ dering at their luxunously glossy black feathers. When in flight, their white markings flashed like visual Morse Vin C onsiaM eo code. I had heard their slow drumming earlier. Now the cacophonous group ing like an outsider. When the drumming began I gibbered and fluttered, performing some collec­ felt at ease. I didn't need to know anyone to par­ tive activity, pitching and tumbling through the air. ticipate. No longer a group of strangers—now a an individual's cajoling call answered by the gathering of queer men drumming, tapping, rat­ group. tling.

I wandered to the area where we would build I don't know how long we drummed. The the sweat lodge. A cold damp covered the area, tempo rose and fell many times, the only indica­ including the fire pit and skeletal wooden frame of tion or segmentation of time. The drumming drew the sweat lodge. me into this gathering of men. When I would I ran my fingers along the curved arcs of the occasionally open my eyes, I would see them, wood, fingering the leather ties that held the eyes closed to this world. Or eyes open, taking in structure together. Everything was cold and in the the fellowship that we were creating moment by shadow of the mountain. Suddenly the rhythmic moment. And occasionally my eyes would meet pulse of drumming in the distance began, time to another's, receiving a nod of acknowledgement rejoin the group. or a quick smile, as if to say “You are welcome Slipping back into the group I learned we here." were going to be journeying. I had never done In the morning I woke early, dressed and this before and intently listened to the description. headed out before breakfast. Climbing the ridge A couple of men would drum a monotonous beat out back I came across a small circle made of while we each envisioned a way into the earth, a shards of shale, shaped into a ring about one hole or cave or tree. When the drumming and a half feet in diameter. Snug against the increased in tempo we were to envision our­ inside of the ring were buckeye nuts. In the cen­ selves passing back through the area we had ter of this second ring was a large piece of shale, traveled, returning to the surface when the drum­ almost the size of an outstretched hand. mers gave a final, distinctive rhythm. It was Native peoples used the poisonous nuts to explained that often those who are journeying supplement their diets, grinding them into flour encounter power animals that guide them or and then running hot water over it to eliminate impart wisdom. the toxicity. Feeling the analytical part of my mind After journeying, many of the men shared vying for dominance over the purely experiential, their visions. What I saw differed greatly from I tried to relax. what the others experienced. It confused me.

I meditated over this found art object or Had I done something incorrect? Unsure, I chose nature altar. What was it? As my mind relaxed I not to share my vision. began to wonder why it was?

In the fading afternoon light we build I noted the oblong shape of the circle of the bonfire that would heat the stones for shale—trying to think less of what these objects the sweat lodge. First a layer of wood, then were, and more about what they might communi­ a layer of nine stones (we carried each cate. The rich brown color of the buckeyes stone separately, honoring each for its role reminded me of burnt butterscotch. Some of in tonight's ceremony), repeating the them were split, an eruption in slow motion, life process until thirty-six stones had been pushing its way into the world. The insides of the tucked between the wood. buckeye nuts, their primal essence, were a rich It was at this point that I first felt a light yellow, looking like spheres of butter dipped great sense of community with these men, in a candy shell. having just experienced my first journey I felt my mind beginning to ease, I started to and now working together to build the bon­ accept rather than categorize. I noticed that I fire, I realized that the sweat was not about was standing within a larger ring of shale. I hadn’t counting stones or “correct" visions. It was noticed it when I had arrived in the clearing. I felt about the communal experience, the joy of unexpectedly a part of this structure, like that working together toward a common goal. childhood realization that the earth is just one of To my surprise the honor of lighting the many planets in a larger system. bonfire fell to me.

Passing beneath an old oak. my introspec­ As a group we circled the bonfire, tion was interrupted by a boisterous ja-cob, jawatching the aperture blaze with sunset cob, ja-cob coming from above. Looking up into a colors or being surrounded by wood

smoke. We circled, we drummed, we clapped our hands. We watched as the structure we built began to heat the stones that would aid us in our sweat.

The appointed hour for the sweat approached. I became nervous, unsure of what to expect physically and spmtually Our group of sixteen gathered around the blazing fire A palpa­ ble feeling of expectation gnpped us. Under the stars and moon I joined the others in removing my clothes, the cold ground stinging my feet. I tned to get closer to the fire but the heat that radiated from the wood and stones kept me at a distance. I tned to calm my nerves, thinking about the fire heating the stones. How the stones would be doused with water to produce steam: fire, earth, water and air.

I joined the line that formed outside the sweat lodge, taking up the hand of the man on either side of me. “So it begins." I thought to myself, not realizing that there had been many beginnings leading me to where I stood, hand-inhand. circling the lodge on this cold night. After circling three times (as one of us had seen in his journey), we entered.

Darkness and the scent of earth. Sitting cross-legged and trembling. I’m waiting in the cold while the others file into the lodge. All is quiet.

The man who organized the building of the bonfire is speaking to us. talking about the cere­ mony that we are engaged in. Although he speaks eloquently from the heart, I’m struggling to understand. My mind is racing with anticipa­ tion, distracted by my fears that I will not be able to endure the physical challenge before me, in a state of confusion over what I will experience and what I want to experience. His words come to an end and he's asking if we are ready. Ho! The man who has led us thus far will be our stone-barer. Getting up from beside me he leaves the lodge to fetch the first nine stones.

The first stone is glowing with an eerily beau­ tiful orange light. Sitting like a meteorite that has just pounded the earth, it produces wave after wave of heat. Another is brought, and another, and another. The rocks keep coming and the

Vln Constabileo

13

man next to him is beginning to speak. I feel a maelstrom ot thoughts churning inside my head What am I grateful for7 Through the clutter of my own thoughts I hear a man speaking of the iove he has found with another man. I can't help being moved by his words I am listening to his story and my mind is coming to rest. He has fin­ ished and now I am listening intently to the next man and the next and the next until the man beside me has finished speaking. Words come to me unbidden.

1 am grateful for the relationships I have been so fortunate to experience. For the gen­ erosity of soul of the men I have come to know this weekend. I pray that I always cherish the men in my life.’

With a “ho' the round ends and the stonebarer is on his feet Looking out of the lodge I see the rock-barer, pitchfork in hand, stirring the fire, arranging the rocks. Finding one to his liking, he draws it from the fire. I watch his chest tighten as he lifts the heated stone, his lithe body blazing orange in the dark night.

He is speaking to us about his pain, and then it is my turn to speak.

"I have experienced a painful rift with the per­ son who is perhaps most responsible for the man I am today. My mother has recently refused med­ ical care she desperately needs. The pain made poignant because her refusal is the result of her spiritual path. It is the first time in my thirty-one years that we have been unable to come to some resolution. I pray that I will be able to recognize the difference between the pain that comes my way versus the pain I bring my way.”

The round ends. The stone-barer opens the flap. I hadn't realized how thick with steam, cedar and sweet grass the atmosphere inside the lodge had become. My head to the ground, peering through the flap, I see Orion in the night sky. I think of my pain and Orion's, both linked to important women in our lives.

The stone-barer is bringing the final stone for this round. These stones come from the heart of the fire; their surfaces sparking blue as one of the men uses a pair of antlers to place them among their brothers in the pit. The stonebarer is closing the flap.

He is speaking of a dream, and each man continues the theme.

“When I was a lonely boy growing up in an undeveloped area, I dreamt of a man. He came to tell me that although I was different from everyone I knew, it was okay. At the time I thought I was one in a thousand, not one in ten.

Not even in my dreams did I dare conceive of a mutual, loving partnership. My relationship with my partner so completely surpasses those boy­ hood dreams. I never thought it possible for one person to give so much. I don't have a prayer as much as a need to give thanks for my partner.”

The stone-barer is opening the flap of the sweat lodge, dropping my head to the earth I find it is still amazingly cool. I am grateful for this small respite from the heat and incense. Another stone passes by me. These are the last of the heated rocks. I am swooning from the heat, exhausted yet invigorated. The stone-barer

touches my knee and I feel my body flush.

He is speaking. I am having trouble breath­ ing in the thick, hot air Lying on my back, I am trying to make as much contact with the still somewhat cool earth, trying to hang onto the words I hear, the thoughts I am thinking. It is my turn to speak.

My prayer dunng the first round was the first time I have prayed since I was seventeen, when left the religion I was raised with. I pray I continue the journey that I have begun here. Keeping with me what I have gained this weekend."

After reflecting on my experiences at the sweat lodge, I have come to realize the sweat was only one component of my reintroduction into a search for spirituality. The weekend was not about making some esoteric, inner connec­ tion, but rather something far more tangible. For me it was about recognizing my place in a com­ munity, not lonely walks and introspection, but the sharing of my life among men equally committed to sharing their self-exploration.

I think about the circle of shale and the buck­ eyes and marvel at how I did not see what an obvious metaphor they are for the sweat lodge, the circle of shale surrounding the organic materi­ al splitting with potential. I think of the journeying I did, how I thought it was about my experience, what I saw. Not until after the sweat did I realize that the entire experience was contingent upon community, from the drummers to the individuals who shared their visions. How had I missed that?

Why had it taken me so long to discover the pathway to the spirit is not one I must travel alone?

Vin continues to search out his spiritual path along the northern coast of California.

Vin Constabileo P.O. Box 127 Duncans Mills, CA 95430 Gloriani@aol.com

14

Walking the Walk

by Tom Lightwater few years ago, I was hitchhiking through New Mexico. I was heading north through Santa Fe, when I decided to stop for a tunafish-on-cracker breakfast. The sky was dear, the sun warm, and the breeze cool in that early morning. I wasn't really in a rush, so when I reached the next stoplight. I took off my dusty backpack, stretched the kinks out of my back, and sat down on the street corner. As I was preparing to take my first bite, I froze in mid­ stream and looked up; there were three cars waiting for the light to change, and ten pairs of eyes staring at me from within the windshields.

Each person looked at me with suspicion. Each person attempted to talk without moving their lips.

When they observed me observing them, sud­ denly a look of blind fear crossed their eyes, and then, “KLUMK-KLUMK!” Each driver toggled their automatic locks and did their best to look directly at everything but myself. In answer to both their prayers and mine, the light changed to green, and the cars jack-rabbited away, but not before I noticed the bumperstickers on each: ’ Walk with Spirit!” ... “Visualize world peace!"...

“Practice random acts of kindness!”

Imagine that.

Strangely enough. I happened to meet one of those drivers during a prayer ceremony a cou­ ple of months later. (It’s funny how one never forgets a particular kind of face.) The person praised me for my insights and for having wisdom beyond my years, and proudly introduced me to some friends. A wonderfully advanced metaphys­ ical conversation swirled around me while I attempted to process this strange twist of fate: Was my hair different? No. Were my clothes?

Not at all; in fact, I was probably wearing the exact same thing. I was still the same person I was two months ago.... The only thing different now was that I was perceived as one of this per­ son’s kind and, therefore, acceptable.

“Practice random acts of kindness,” said the bumpersticker. How can so many people say, and yet. not do?! What are the reasons for this phenomenon? In an age when so many people are discovering their inner child, learning to become an avatar, or searching for spiritual growth, why is the word “philanthropy" so rarely used in this ever-growing New Age? When crime, homelessness, hunger, and all sorts of social and economic problems are facing us, where is this new awareness, this advanced spiri­ tual understanding?

“Well, these people are creating their own reality, aren't they? They are simply experiencing what they have chosen to in this life.” This over­ simplified view has been used many times in order to explain away persons who are facing challenging events in their lives, from those with HIV to those who are homeless and hungry. But the idea of creating one's reality runs far deeper

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.cover. Yes. perhaps they are creating their own reality, but why have you created them in your reality? What do you have to learn from these people? What do you have to offer? How can you change the reality? To begin asking yourself these questions is a step in the direction of understand­ ing not only the why and how of creating one's own reality, but the what. You are responsible to what you create. If you have created an aware­ ness of challenges in your world, be they per­ ceived as directly or indirectly involved in your life, denial will only serve to bring such challenges clos­ er to yourself. Then, before you know it, you may find yourself learning from firsthand experience, rather than from the teachers you were provided, but ignored.

“I pray for these people facing dramatic situa­ tions. and I visualize and meditate about the chal­ lenges of the world. I'm doing my part." Prayers, visualizations, and meditations are good and won­ derful things, and there is no telling how much of an effect these things have on reality; still, these should and must be balanced with action. We may pray for world peace, but how many of us are striv­ ing to bring this about in our families, our homes, or our communities? We may meditate on home­ lessness, but how many of us take time to volun­ teer in a homeless shelter, provide food in some way, or leave a blanket for someone who is sleep­ ing outdoors? Yes, we are spiritual beings, but we are also physical. Because we are multidimen­ sional beings, we need to learn about life on all levels. Prayers are appropriate, but not meant to be a replacement to rolling up your shirtsleeves and just doing it.

“Oh well, this is just another sign of the earth changes." I knew of a man who left California in order to avoid the earth changes, and moved to the middle of nowhere in New Mexico. Here, he

thought, there would be no earth­ quakes. no cnme. ano no fearful diseases. This man began to settle into the newfound security of his safe and protected life, but then his illusions came crashing down around his shoulders when the wife of a netghbonng couple he had befnended was hospitalized for an AIDS-related condition. It turned out that both of this man's neigh­ bors were HIV-positive. No matter where you go. there you are. with all your issues and the things you need to leam. This man attempted to avoid the things happening in his outer world and. in so doing, was attempting to avoid these aspects in his inner world. In the end. he grew through his fears and issues, and continued on as a friend and helper to his neighbors. Earth changes or rather, the things attributed to earth changes -- are there as opportunities rather than things to run from and avoid.

“How can I help? I'm too busy Vin Constabileo working on my own healing, issues, and so forth, to help anyone else right now.'1 I understand this completely, and yes. there are times when we do need to go inward and concen­ trate on ourselves. Still, how do you know that helping someone else may not be an aspect of your own healing? All you may need to give is a heartfelt smile to the hitchhiker on the side of the road, a compliment, or an open set of ears.

Simply listening to someone else might help them, and will definitely help you. If you have a little spare coinage, go find someone who is holding one of those signs that say, "Will work for food".

Give them a twenty, and watch the look of shock cross their face as you drive off. Little things - the little random acts of kindness -- can do so much for others as well as for yourself.

The first time this awareness took hold in my life was in Hollywood, California: I had been given a $100 bonus at work that day, and I was driving around, trying to figure out how I was going to spend this wad. I turned a corner and just hap­ pened to glance up on the sidewalk to see a guy trying to make a little money as a hustler. I went on for a bit, and then a crazy thought entered my head. I turned around and drove up to him. “Hey, you busy?" I asked. He smiled, asked me how I was doing, and climbed into the passenger seat.

Out on the town we went! He wanted seafood, so we had seafood. He wanted to see a movie, so we saw a movie. He wanted a particular hotel room, so we got that room. I saw him to the room, asked if everything was okay, and then told him I was leaving.

“Huuuh?" he asked, as he quickly stopped undoing his belt.

“Man," I answered, “I just got a major bonus today, and I was about to blow it on something stu­ pid, until I saw you. I just got a crazy thought to 15

take you out on the town and leave whatever money was left for you."

He just stared at me Then, to my utter shock, he collapsed onto the bed and broke into the loud­ est. hardest cry I had ever heard in my life, except for perhaps my own. In between tears, he told me how he was sixteen and his parents had thrown him out after they caught him with another boy. He left Texas and headed to California, where he was sure he'd meet other people like himself and everything would be okay Instead, he had been robbed, beaten, homeless, and unable to find a job. He ended up shacking up with other hustlers and working the streets with them. For the first time since arriving in California, he said, he had met someone who didn't want something from him.

Wow. We sat up all night, just talking in the dark about our hopes and fears, about what all this crazy stuff in the world could possibly mean. He wasn’t that much younger than myself, and - in spite of me having a job and an apartment - we really weren’t so far apart from each other. In some ways we were worlds apart; in others we were as close as brothers. When he decided to soak in the tub. I went in the bathroom with him and sat on the floor while we passed a cigarette back and forth and talked. Eventually, we went to sleep, curled around each other and feeling just a little safer.

The next morning, we both knew we had to go our separate ways. I took him back to the place where I had picked him up, pulled the car into a parking place, and turned the engine off. There wasn't much to say. We had gone on quite a jour­ ney together. We had explored our lives with each other, and we came away from the experience as friends. “Thanks,” he said, gave me a kiss, and left the car.

I will probably never see this guy again; still, I owe a lot of my own healing to him. A week later, I was heading back to North Carolina. Somehow, he had shown me that California was not where I needed to be. Somehow, he showed me how there was much more to life than having a good job. going clubbing at night, and fitting into all the aspects of mainstream life. He showed me a new way to grow. I can only hope I left a similar impression on him. I think so: whenever I picture him in my mind, I not only see that beautiful smile getting a little older, but also a lot wider Practice random acts of kindness. Walk the walk. Courses, meditations, prayers, and visual­ izations help, but they are no replacement for the activation of the beauty and love you already have in your heart. Don't wait until you think you are good enough ... just do it! Then, watch yourself and your world grow beyond all expectations Be an angel for someone, and allow someone to be an angel for you. Be the Spirit you already are.

Light Shines Through Water

Finding the Redneck Within or the gay individual in a small town, there comes a time when everything starts to look good. I call it rural dementia. I live in a town of roughly 200 people, depending on the season. Sometimes I'll hang out at the post office, swapping gossip with our gay postal worker. In walks a complete­ ly gnarled up specimen of manhood. Not classically handsome. In Lake County, men are like comets. You see one that’s remotely attractive and you run for the telescope. Six months ago, I’d have thought road kill, but nowadays I burn his visage into memory for later use.

F

I’ve always been drawn to genuine blue collar guys, not the guys who wear brand new construction boots and meticulously rolled tee shirt sleeves. I get weak when I see beer bellies, three day stubble and greasy cap brims. I can’t explain it. I grew up around guys like that, so many of my first crushes were on mechanics and farmers. My reaction to such men is visceral and potent. It’s somewhere between “Be my sweet cowboy” and “Make me your bitch.” I now live across the street from a trailer park, so there’s no shortage of potentially sweet cowboys. At any rate, there’s no shortage of beer bellies.

My friend -Jerry shares my obses­ sion. The other day we went to WalMart because he needed Polaroid film so he could snap nasty pictures of himself and send them to a married man in Fresno. 1 told him I hope to God I’m still that perverted when I’m 58. Jerry has gone full tilt into the redneck thing. He lives in a trailer and has an enormous 1989 Ford pickup truck, replete with a -Jesus Saves sticker on the bumper. He even fires up yard debris on the county’s eagerly anticipated Burn Day. The first time 1 smelled smoke, I called the cops.

The man who answered calmly explained the concept of a burn day to me in a soothing baritone voice. I want­ ed to ask him to come anyway.

Jerry’s redneck pose is totally con­ vincing until you realize he takes notes during Martha Stewart and arranges the yard in complementary color zones.

In a word, he’s versatile.

1 have great ambivalence about shopping at Wal-Mart. They donate mad amounts of cash to the right wing and force their employees to do a group pledge of allegiance ritual at the begin­ ning of each workday. I limit myself to things I can’t get at other nearby stores or things that are far cheaper than the small businesses I’d prefer to support.

But in this area, being a small business doesn’t mean that they’re any less homophobic than Wal-Mart. So goes the dilemma for a rural queer on a budget.

In my shopping cart, I had a pack­ age of blue light bulbs. I’ve resorted to 4 watt night lights to save power in my

It’s some­ where between “Be my sweet cowboy” and “Make me your bitch.” kitchen and hallway. The power crisis in California has been a mixed blessing.

It’s the first time in years that we’ve had a public dialogue about energy con­ servation. Naturally, President-Select Bush and his cronies are using the hys­ teria of Californians to tear the shit out of Alaska and who knows where else.

Are you ready for more trickle down?

We’re there, kids.

The other thing I had in my shop­ ping cart was one of those plastic toilet seats, the pillowy ones that hiss when you lift up off them. My booty gets spe­ cial rights, like lotion-enhanced toilet paper. The energy crisis has meant that my bathroom is always icy cold and I’ve just had enough contact with that cold seat. Getting a plastic cushion toilet 16

K irk R ead

seat is, to be sure, a redneck rite of pas­ sage. My next purchases will be a strawberry air freshener for the rear view mirror and vinyl doilies for the kitchen table. My inner redneck is com­ ing out, and it’s not all pretty.

Jerry and I spied one very surly looking man standing in the middle of the audio visual section. He was the epitome of blue collar fantasia. He’s the guy that all those Colt videos have been aping for years. Jerry and I took hold of the cart to steady ourselves. Our DirtTrack Romeo seemed lost, staring up at the ceiling’s hidden cameras. We started dry heaving and shaking. You could smell his testosterone drowning out the Britney Spears video pouring out of a wall of television sets.

Handlebar moustache, two days of stubble, muddy jeans, faraway blue eyes; his jaw was clenched tight and I knew in that moment that he knew how to barbecue. Jerry and I got our fill and headed for the fabric department to see what was on the dollar a yard table.

Cruising in Wal-Mart is about the filthiest thing I’ve ever done, and that’s a considerable assessment, given my rapsheet of misadventure. Sometimes it’s comforting to fly under the radar, talking to these men in the aisles about mufflers and unsalted almonds. They have no idea they’re being studied.

Once we got to the checkout line, Jerry fixed his gaze on the man in front of us, whose jeans hung down just over his ass crack. Jerry doubled over the cart, smiling with euphoria.

“I have x-ray vision,” Jerry whis­ pered to me.

I do too. And out here in the boonies, that’s such a blessing.

Kirk Read’s book “How I Learned to Snap,” will be released in June. He lives in Northern California and can be found at www.temenos.net/kirkread

HOME TO MOTHER, TO DIE AND B E REBORN

T

before his 32nd birthday. Only his mother was present at the actual moment he transitioned from his body.

But in the days before, his family and some close friends were able to be with him in the hospital, where he summoned celebration and song for his dying ritual.

Like so many rituals that he had created and been part of, |this rite was a beautiful pas­ sage. His room became the cen­ ter of a powerful ceremony writh his mother and faerie family: a final moment of faerie reverie wnth song and compassionate touching, glitter from his crown to his cock and a last taste of raspberry chocolate!

Then, with clarity and diplo­ macy, he dispersed the circle with the wmrds, “Clear the house.” Only his mother remained with him in the final hours. The end of Makai’s life was a beautiful beginning as he continued giving and teaching to all who knew' him. He united his birth family and his faerie family. For in loving him and grieving the loss of his physical body, we celebrate his transcen­ dent spirit that we all have with us now.

he Sweat. Immersed in the darkness of the sweat lodge with hissing volcanic rocks, the new earth reborn from the fires of red-hot molten mamma, we bum in our bodies until we transcend them. First individually and then collective­ ly, we die. We surrender our sight and breath to the black­ ness and heat and shed many sensory attachments along the way. Both pleasure and pain dissipate as full Spirit emerges in this womb-centered ritual.

We call to those who have gone before us, to those spirits present in the soil, the fire, air and water beings, our ancestors and the primordial mother.

Turtle medicine.

The sweat is a lesson in dying, in letting go and becom­ ing one with the universal force.

While inside the Great Mother, the moans and groans of one body are indistinguishable from everybody, a fact that reflects the spiritual reality of our con­ nectedness.

Eight months, almost to the day, after this sweat lodge ritual that happened during the Spring 2001 gathering, Rex Baning Makai died and was reborn on January 5th, the day

Photo: Willie Cole

Short Mountain Sanctuary Beltane, Liberty, TN.

Faerie Beltane Events All Friday 26 April through Sunday 5 May:

“ R e tu rn to R u sticity.” C o m e v is it o u r s a n c tu a ry a n y tim e . F o r info w rite S M S , 2 4 7 S a n c tu a ry L a n e , L ib e rty, T N 3 7 0 9 5 .

Zuni M ountain Sanctuary Beltane, Ramah, NM.

O ther upcom ing events at Zuni:

S n o w is p o s s ib le , a lth o u g h la s t y e a r it w a s in the 7 0 's a n d b e a u tifu l. S m a ll g a th e rin g , m o s t fo lks s le e p in d o o rs . C o n ta c t Z M S , P.O. B o x 6 3 6 , R a m a h , N M 8 7 3 2 1 , (5 0 5 ) 7 8 3 -4 0 0 2 , w w w .z m s .o rg .

* F a e rie M e n 's H e a lin g R e tre a t: "R e c la im in g o u r body, R e c la im in g o u r c o c k s ": 2 4 M a y-2 J u n e . Y oga, Q i G o n g , T a ntra, J o u rn a lin g , P o tte r y - a ll d e s ig n e d to e x p lo re h o w w e c a n h e a l o u rs e lv e s th ro u g h th e body. * L u g h n a s a d (L a m m a s ): 2 6 J u ly -4 A u g u s t. T h e fe a s t o f firs t H a rv e s t.

Z M S 's a n n u a l fete. * F a e rie S h a m a n is m G a th e rin g : 24 A u g u s t-1 S e p te m b e r. N in e d a y s o f m a g ic, fu n , m y ste ry , a n d w o rk s h o p s !

Wolf Creek Beltane Gathering, Wolf Creek, OR. A n n u a l B e lta n e /M a y P ole D a n c e . M ix e d e ve n t. $ 3 0 /d a y re q u e s te d (N o o n e tu rn e d a w a y fo r la ck of fu n d s ). F o r info c a ll 5 4 1 -8 6 6 -2 6 7 8 o r e -m a il n o m e n u s @ b u d g e t.n e t.

17

How Elf Got Green Man’s Cherry

By Dragonfire

he sun poked fluffy clouds through the sap­ phire sky as midsummer breezes carried rose scent to a lush meadow. Beautiful Gaia sat near the river edge, plaiting her lus­ trous black hair under a canopy of oak branches. She stared into the pools at her feet, absorbed in her thoughts. She almost didn’t hear Elf’s approach as he quietly brushed aside fat bumblebees and lazy dragonflies as he made his way through the grass.

“What’s up, gorgeous?” he asked with a smile. Her reverie broken, Gaia stood up and beck­ oned with open arms. “Hiya Elf honey! Out chasing rainbows again? Hey, gimme a hug, will ya?” In a second Elf cartwheeled into Gaia’s arms and pressed his bushy head against her soft breasts. They rocked together in silence for a moment, eyes closed. Then Gaia felt a pressure on her naked thigh.

“Looks like you’re excited to see me?” she asked, stepping back. Elf grabbed his half-stiff cock and flicked it at Gaia. “Girl, I’m so ready for that Green Man I could just burst!”

plump seed heads. The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows across their shoulders. Gaia reached out and clasped Elf’s hands. “Elf, I’ve got a secret. I’m pregnant!” Elf cooed, closed his hands and held them under his hairy chin. “Oh, mercy sakes, a baby! Congrats sweetie! How are you feeling?” he asked.

Gaia lay back as she groaned and then laughed. “Ugh, I’m just over the morning sickness now.

But here’s my problem. Green Man, the horny Horned One, still wants to make love like a spring buck.” She shook her long black tresses and wiped one hand across her forehead. “Elf darling, I’m get­ ting less and less interested in the sex thing. But he’s still hot. So I need your help, OK?” Elf saluted and squealed, “Anything for you,

his brawny arms and muscular thighs. Then he held his big hands, palm side up, to the fire and smiled. “My, my, warm and comfy. How’s my lovely lady? And my furry friend?”

Gaia stood up, walked behind Green Man and put her arms around his chest. “Ah, my love, I’m happy to see you,” she said as she stroked his curly chest hair.

She next lay her head on his shoulders and nuzzled against his neck, and whispered, “It’s been a joyful day, full of ripening fruit and warm sunshine. I’ve missed you, my sweet man.” She closed her eyes and held her smooth belly against his naked butt. Green Man closed his eyes and pulled on his hooded cock. “Lady, I’ve missed you, too. Through the fields and valleys, and under the waters and over the mountains, I do my man work with one thought in my mind.

Coming back to you, sweet lovely Gaia.”

Gaia giggled and affectionately grabbed E lf s cock. “OK, OK already!” she exclaimed. “I like his new horns!”

Gaia giggled and affectionately tweaked Elf’s cock. “OK, OK already!” she exclaimed. “I like his new horns!” She beckoned to a circle of soft grasses. “Let's have a heart to heart about studly Mr. Green Man.” They sat down on reed cushions as a slight breeze shook the grass and bent the

Ms. Preggers.” Soon they were whispering as the sun sailed west in the blue sky.

At dusk Elf and Gaia sat wait­ ing around a crackling fire. The first stars appeared in the laven­ der sky as they heard a rumble in the underbrush. In a moment Green Man entered the clearing and stood before the flames. He flicked off some stray grass from his husky chest and patted down 18

As they rocked in front of the fire, Green Man’s cock rose up huge and hard. “Uh, yoo hoo, I’m fine, too,” said Elf. He leaned forward and licked his lips. “And thanks for the tasty show stopper.”

Green Man opened his eyes and reached for Elf. He tugged at his chin hairs and said laughingly, “Ah, my furry friend, your lustful looks remind me of how you gave up your horns for a blow job.” Elf grinned sheepishly and kept look­ ing at the enormous prick. “Just a minute, Green

Guy,” he mused. "Just a minute” Green Man turned to face Gaia, embraced her and gently cupped his hands around her butt cheeks.

“Darling, I'm all yours. The night is young! Let's make love!” Just as he puckered his lips for a kiss, she pulled back. “Green Man, hold on. I’ve got to tell you something.

I’m pregnant.” Green Man froze, eyebrows upraised. Then he hollered. “You're pregnant!

Oh Gaia!” He drew her close to him again and gen­ tly kissed her forehead.

With a grin, he whispered, “That’s great! We can still make love, can’t we?”

Gaia tapped her finger on Green Man’s chest. “Yes and no. Elf, come here.”

With a quizzical look, Green Man sat on a rock as Gaia took his hand. “My love,” she said softly, ‘You fuck me like the wild wind, like a bucking mustang, and you come like light­ ning hitting the earth. But now you need to learn some restraint - some con­ trol - or you might hurt our baby.” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

“Lover, will you please try a new lovemaking tech­ nique, something I asked Elf to help us with?” With these words, Gaia leaned back, legs coyly spread, her eyes locked into Green Man’s eyes. His heart fluttered, and as he gazed at her, his cock stiffened and signaled his accept­ ance.

“Lick me, lover,” invited Gaia.

Green Man knelt forward and gen­ tly pulled open her mound. As he started to pleasure her, she slowly rocked her hips. “Yes, lover, taste me with your tongue.” He grunted his excitement and leaned for­ ward, ass raised in the air. Lost in his desire, Green Man reached up to caress her tightening nipples.

Gaia moaned and then opened her eyes and signaled to Elf, who

handed her a reed cushion and quietly kneeled behind Green Man. Gaia moaned and clutched Green Man by his horns as she shuddered with her first orgasm.

because now I'm gonna fuck you.”

Still shaking. Gaia held Green Man close to her belly and said quickly, “Now you know our child is alive inside me. Are you ready to fuck me?” Green Man grunted his acknowledgement, eves closed.

Jerry

hard cock swinging in anticipation.

“Lover, I want you to fuck me but also make love to me. Before you put your cock in me, you must learn how it feels.” Still held fast by his horns, Green Man flinched slightly as Elf kneaded his hairy butt cheeks. Elf dipped his finger into a bowl of aloe juice and ten­ derly pressed some into Green Man’s asshole while he stroked his own cock. “Relax, Green Man,” crooned Elf. “Take a deep breath.

Squeeze and clench my finger.

Yeah, you’ve got it.” He slipped a second finger into his butt. “Are you OK, Green Man? Good, 19

Green Man exhaled as Elf thrust his cock into his ass. They paused and then Elf slowly began fucking Green Man. As Green Man pulled back, Gaia released his horns, raised her pelvis and placed the reed pillow under her butt. She quickly drew his hips forward and impaled herself onto his hard cock. Green Man groaned as his ass was rocked by Elf's fucking. He opened his eyes and held Gaia's head in his hands. “Oh, this feels good. Now I know what you mean. Giving and receiving.

I love you.” Green Man kissed Gaia, who ran her fin­ gers up and down his spine.

Elf felt the heat build as he continued screwing Green Man, who in turn fucked Gaia. Their passions crested as all three came at the same time, yelping and howling into the night.

Later, sitting around the fire, Green Man held a smil­ ing Gaia in his arms as Elf poked a stick into the flames.

“It felt strange and then felt good!” said Green Man. “I never knew going slow and gentle could be so fun.” Elf smiled and said, “Such a tight butt you have. I think I hit your G-spot.” Gaia laughed as Green Man looked confused. “G-spot?

What’s that?” he asked. Gaia stood up, shooed Elf away, and then bent over to kiss Green Man. “Lover, let’s continue your educa­ tion right now.” As Elf disap­ peared into the forest, he looked back and saw Green Man and Gaia embrace, flame light glowing on their nude bodies. Green Man winked at Elf and then turned to clasp Gaia in his arms. “Hmm,“ Elf thought to himself as he walked away, “Perhaps Green Man will want another lesson from me someday!” With a grin Elf entered the night woods, whistling as the stars circled overhead.

T h e re Is c om m unio n o f m o re than o u r bo d ies when b re a d Is b ro k e n a n d w ine Is drun k - M .F .K . fis h e r

Fed Ex V

ern and I were friends for almost three years before we ever laid eyes on one another in person. We met on line and hit it off immediately and, given our situation in our respective lives, we spoke more often than 1 do with friends who live in the same city. We spoke with one another virtually every day on line, usu­ ally two or three times. He was a daily presence in my life.

There is simply no good reason Vern should have grown into the sensitive, good-hearted person 1 grew to know. Instead of his studied curmudgeon act which barely concealed the heart he wore on his sleeve, Vern had every reason to be a bitter, suspi­ cious and twisted individual. But he wasn't. He was fair-minded and sweet and even a tad sentimental about things.

Our first encounter was a fairly typical AOL cruise chat but that quickly fell by the wayside as a.) Vern purged sexuality from his life and b.) we discovered a larger, true friendship. We had both lived in San Francisco during the swinging 70s and we were both sort of estranged from our birth families. We shared a lot of similar points of view and experience, were both raging skeptics and, in the end, we just plain liked one another. And I had just been diagnosed with HIV and he was, he insisted, end-stage HIV.

His main concern, the main reason he hung on to life (he was more or less comfortable save for recurring bouts with molluskums and thrush and low energy) was he wanted to make sure that his two dogs had some place to go when he died. They would be confused if he wasn't around for them. 1 promised him 1 would take them if it came to that and he always found that to be comforting. I really grew to love and respect Vern and he would often speak to me about the most intimate of situations and development in my life and his own in a way that was wise beyond anything you might have expected from someone who referred to himself as "trailer trash,"

Vern had decided to leave sex behind because, as HIV took over his body, he felt less and less attractive. 1 think it was easier to simply banish sexuality than it was to subject himself to how difficult he thought finding someone would be or to deal with the outright rejection he felt certain was out there. He just wasn't about to go hang out in bars and he found most people he met on line odd.

We talked about food. In fact we talked a lot about food. He ate abominably, I thought, and I kept trying to tell him how easy it was to prepare fresh whole food than it was to subsist on the processed food he found it easiest to find and prepare. I would tell him how to cook things and he would go shopping for them and the next day he would report back to me and ask questions.

Somewhere in this, we talked about the kinds of food I can get in a big city like New York and he complained that you just could­ n't get a good pastrami sandwich in Colorado. He had no idea what a Cel-Ray tonic was and he longed for some good cheese­ cake. So that very morning I got off line and walked the few short blocks to Junior's Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, an icon of culinary proportions comparable to the Brooklyn Bridge itself. I bought a pastrami sandwich on rye with a Cel-Ray tonic and a slice of Junior's cheesecake. I walked from there to my Mailboxes Etc. and, jamming the Styrofoam container into a Fed Ex box, over-nighted the mile-high sandwich to Manitou Springs, Colorado, where Vern lived. He loved it. It cemented our friendship.

Vern was a curmudgeon. He refused to take any of the med­ ications available and insisted that he only had a short time to live anyway and he wanted to be comfortable first. He was beatifically OK with that and was, in fact, probably one of the most healed people I've ever met. Perfectly comfortable with the prospect of what he always described as his imminent death, he lived each day devoted to his two dogs, Baby and Grrrrl, and a running commentary on popular culture for our daily, morning and evening, chat.

And we talked. About everything. We talked about Ally McBeal and how it had lost its edge. We talked about politics and movies and what was on television, though because of his hearing loss he didn't go to movies much anymore. He read the news on line voraciously and was always finding interesting sto­ ries that he formed opinions about and wanted to discuss with me. 1le could watch television because of closed captioning. But just as often he would simply watch something with the sound turned off and observe the behavior of the people. He was a per­ ceptive commentator and critic.

Since I was under the impression that Vern could go any day..-he always insisted he was at death's door...I made a pact with him that he introduce me to some friend of his in Manitou Springs. I didn't want to log on one day and not find him and never know what had happened. So he arranged for me to meet his friend Jan through an on-line introduction. We spoke a cou­ ple of times and then Jan sort of popped up and said hello every now and then, but it was clear that she understood that her role was to make sure I knew if anything happened to Vern.

We talked about his childhood and his late lover, neither of which was a terribly pleasant tale. 1le was one of several chil­ dren had by his drunken, self-absorbed and ill-equipped mother with several different men who occasionally stuck around to abuse Vern or his siblings. 1lis own long-term relationship with a man named Tom was marked by dysfunction and mutual abuse of one another and various substances. But 1 think he loved the man. I le was certainly loyal and stuck with Tom through his death from HIV7 three years prior to our meeting.

When Vem and I finally met, I was traveling out west, through Utah, Idaho, Montana and on to Oregon and had sort of a hiatus between trips that found me in Salt Lake City. I didn't have a lot of travel money, but I figured this was as close as I 20

would ever get to Colorado and this was going to be the oppor­ tunity to meet Yem. So 1 bought a bus ticket and rode 14 hours through the night from Salt Lake City to Manitou Springs at the foot of Pike's Peak, south of Colorado Springs. It's always kind of nerve-wracking to meet someone I know from on line. Mostly 1was worried whether we would be able to communicate as eas­ ily in person as we could on line. We had never even spoken on the phone because Vem's hearing was so bad - virtually deaf he insisted -- from HIV gnawing complications. I wondered if we would even be able to speak to one another or would we be reduced to writing notes and cobbled sign language? Would he look anything like his handsome photo and would we even rec­ ognize one another at the bus station where he met me?

giv en him as a present and that someone had brought him some mangolds that they placed in his hands while they were waiting for the morgue to claim his body and that he looked like a Bengal prince laying in state at the end.

Ian called me that night to tell me about the details of his passing and memorial and to invite me even though she knew I wouldn't be able to make it. I told her of mv desire to do a Coastal Salish Burning ceremony for Vern and that 1 needed an outfit of his clothing to burn along with his favorite meal. We talked a little about what his favorite meal might have been and then it dawned on me that the perfect thing to send over to him on the burning mesa: a pastrami sandwich from Juniors with a slice of cheesecake and a Cel-Rav tonic.

Any doubts I had melted away in the warmth that was gen­ erated between the two of us. Our energy in person was as natu­ ral as if we had known each other all our lives. I spent four days with Vem...the only four days we would ever be in one another's company. We cooked. We took walks. We had dinner with Jan and her boyfriend Greg. We even went to the movies and saw the new Star Wars movie, even though Vern could barely hear any of it.

Vanilla Bean Cheesecake with Walnut Crust 1 1/2 cups walnut pieces 1 3/4 cups sugar 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted 2 cups sour cream 1 tablespoon vanilla extract 2 pounds cream cheese, softened 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and seeded 4 large eggs, room temp 1/4 teaspoon almond extract 1/2 cup heavy cream

One day we went for a walk around the scrub brush trails around the back of his house. "This is my favorite tree,"he said.

"It's dying." The scrub pine was probably decades old, maybe as old as he was, just over forty. "The rains have washed away the soil around its roots over the years," he says. "It's losing its ground. There's nothing left for it to hold on to anymore."

1. Preheat oven to 350. Butter a 10-inch springform pan. In a food processor pulse the walnuts with 1/4 cup of sugar until finely ground. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resem­ bles moist sand. Press the crumbs into the bottom of the pan and bake for 12 minutes or until browned around the edges.

The tree's roots were half-exposed and half clung to the red mica'ed soil of Colorado. Like Vern it still looked strong. There was still a healthy green about it. But its serpentine twist of a trunk and branches was mirrored in its roots from where the soil had washed away. You could easily rock the whole tree with a gentle nudge to its trunk. "I love this tree," he smiled.

"Sometimes I come up and talk to it and sit with it. It's lived its life and it's time has come. It may last a few more years, but it's OK. The cycle is complete. I argued that we could build up some rocks around the roots and put some soil back around the roots that would hold and realized only after the words had escaped my mouth that this was the same argument I had made about trying to get Vern to try other meds and that he would have no part of those or any other stones. We walked a little further and he stopped and said, "Watch this!" and he stooped down and knocked on the trail like it was a door. Suddenly a stream of ants came pouring out of a small hole, swarming all over an area about a foot or two in diameter. "I love that," he said.

2. In a small bowl, mix the sour cream with 1/4 cup of the sugar and 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract.

3. Reduce the oven to 300. In a standing electric mixer fitted with a paddle, beat the cream cheese at low speed with the remaining 1 1/4 cups of sugar and the vanilla seeds just until combined. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the bowl between additions. Add the remaining 2 teaspoons of vanilla and the almond extract. Slowly beat in the cream until the mixture is smooth. Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 65 to 70 minutes until lightly golden and slightly jiggly in the center.

4. Immediately pour the sour cream topping over the cheese­ cake and smooth the surface. Return the cheesecake to the oven and bake five minutes longer. Transfer to a rack and let cool to room temperature. Run a sharp knife around the cake and remove the ring. Refrigerate the cake for three hours, then loose ly cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight before serv ing.

Vern died in August of 2001, five years after we "met"on line for the first time. I knew something serious was up this time because I picked up my voice mail about a week before and there was this strange creaky voice saying something about me calling as soon as possible. I had to listen to it twice before I real­ ized it was a message from Vern. We never used the phone because of his hearing loss, so if he was phoning it was urgent.

We want your submissions

I called him back and he told me that he was moving into the hospice. His health was failing and he just wanted to let me know that we probably wouldn't be speaking again on line. I got to tell him what an important and beloved friend he had become to me and how much 1 would miss talking to him on line. I got to tell him I loved him and he said he loved me too. He died peacefully, in Jan's company, about a week later. Jan said they had wrapped him up in this beautiful orange cloth someone had

Please submit your recipes for us to use in the mag. ____________Submission info in the front.____________

RFD Online

needs an online cooking/recpie editor. The ideal web chef will knw basic HTML, FTP and imaging if you want pho­ tos. If interested coontact julian at crunch42@aol.com 21

A N YBO D Y QUEER HERE ?

By Mountaine

L

ast fall, I indulged in a lifelong dream of mak­ ing a "pilgrimage" to Nepal. Although my reason for going was to connect with the ancient cultures of these areas, and to gaze at the high­ est mountains on the planet, 1 was certainly curious about queer life in this part of the world. What I experienced opened up more questions than answers.

1started by searching the Internet for gay Nepal", and discovering a Yahoo club called gay-cyber-Nepal with over 800 members. 1 joined the club (which didn't seem to have a lot of activ­ ity), and sent an email to the members saving that I was visiting the country, traveling with a group of 11 gay American men, and that we were inter­ ested in knowing about gay life in Nepal and making contacts during our visit.

Over the next few days, I received three responses. I wo were clearly sex-orient­ ed, with an implication that payment would be expected. Although the expected payment would probably be very little, this wasn't quite what I had in mind. The third sounded interesting.

Ravi (not his real name...) said he was a 20-year-old bisexual, interested in learning more about American culture, since he hoped to come to the States to study. I responded with an invitation to meet us at a concert that most of our group was planning to attend. I didn’t hear back, and was amazed to find a very shy, very small young man at the concert, waiting to meet us.

Afterwards we all went to dinner, and Jim (one of the guys I was traveling with) invited Ravi to join us. The con­ versation was entirely about Ravi's aspi­ rations to study business in the West.

Both Jim and I liked him, and found him to be an interesting dinner companion.

We were enjoying the opportunity to act as mentors for a young guy with lots of potential, and encouraged Ravi to get his "CV" (resume) to us so we could see it and pass it on to appropriate people both in Nepal and at home. He seemed very excited about that, and the simplest wav for us to get the CV was for him to drop it off at our hotel. Ravi said he would do that the next evening.

1le showed up just as I was going out to run some errands. Jim met Ravi in the lobby, and when 1 returned, about an hour later, they were still talking.

But the topic of conversation had changed radically. Ravi told Jim that he was a virgin” - no sexual experience at all - and that in addition to talking with us about his future, he was very interest­ ed in sex with us. Since both Jim and I had roommates at the hotel, Jim offered 22

to get an extra room for an evening tryst, but only if 1 chose to join them!

So okay, I was intrigued. 1 asked about the CV, and Ravi gave some excuse for not wanting people to see it.

His reason didn't make any sense to me, and I was confused about what was really going on, since getting his CV to us was the reason we had invited him to the hotel. But okay, the moment was King, and Jim and 1 were Queens, and Ravi said he was really horny (and yes, okay, Jim and I were open to going in that direction too - we found Ravi both fascinating and cute). Looking forward to an exciting adventure, I went to my room to get condoms and lube. Soon the three of us converged in our private sexnest. Within moments, clothes began to come off...

Both Jim and I had taken Body Electric workshops (integrating spiritual intent with sexuality), so we were inter­ ested in ritualizing the event, to fill Ravi's initiation into sex with gentleness and sensitivity. We started in a circle with arms around each other, and then the erotic energy began to "grow". Like most Nepalis, Ravi was very small probably about 5'2", with a waist around 25” at most. His body had an exotic scent to it, and his cock was uncut, about 5" long, very skinny. His color was a dark shade of brown, but very dif­ ferent from the pigment and texture of the African-Americans I know. Just to see him naked was different, interesting, a tum-on.

Within a couple of minutes, though, the experience began to go downhill. There was only one physi­ cal act that Ravi wanted to do, and that was to be sucked on. Jim sug­ gested a condom for that (largely because of the prevalence of hepatitis in Asia, to which the locals are immune), and with protection in place, he and I both went down on Ravi. Ravi said he "didn’t like" to do anything else, and he was completely passive in receiving pleasure. He came in about five minutes, and once he caught his breath, asked if he could use the shower. Done.

Since Jim had paid for the room, I offered to pay for dinner, and we went outside to the hotel's garden restaurant.

I asked Ravi again about the CV, and again 1 got an answer that didn't make any sense. Aside from that, the conver­ sation was lively, and both Jim and I were comfortable accepting the limited aspects of the encounter. I made the point that although having sex was a fun thing to do, it could be much more exciting in the context of feeling a special sense of intimacy (I even used the word "love") with a part­ ner. Jim and I both explained about AIDS and how it can be transmitted, since it seemed Ravi knew almost nothing about that!

We felt it was important to give him as much informa­ tion as we could. Since we

weren't doing the career mentoring we had expected, we easily fell into a role of sexual mentoring with Ravi. He seemed to take it all in. Over a good dinner.

Then it was late, and Ravi said there were no buses at that hour and he would need to take a taxi. Jim agreed to pay for that, and I went to bed. The next morning, Jim told me that Ravi had complained about the amount of money Jim had handed him, saying it wasn't enough for the taxi. (Jim knew it to be much more than enough.) There were last-minute requests for money for other things too. The clincher was that Ravi

didn't want to take a taxi directly from the hotel, but wanted to walk down the street a bit to get a taxi, so that Jim suspected he didn't need a taxi after all. The whole interaction left a very bitter taste - it seemed that there was an unspoken agenda of getting money from "rich" Americans. Later, Jim told me that he was saddened by how the potential for a meaningful mentoring relationship had been trivialized, and by the way our yielding to temptation had contributed to that. As for me, looking back on it, I just feel that we were pretty naive.

Our group's itinerary took us away from Kathmandu, and when we got back, Jim went home. But my plan was to stay on in Nepal for another month, and sure enough, Ravi sent me more emails, asking when we would meet again, and wondering what gifts I had brought him from my travels. For me, that was the final turnoff. I responded by telling Ravi my view of our encounter, and express­ ing my surprise at his com plete tu rna round on the CV issue. 1 questioned whether he

"Ravi told Jim that he was a "virgin " no sexual experience at all - and that in addition to talking with us about his future, he was very interested in sex with us."

23

was really interested in guys, since it seemed to both Jim and me that Ravi was probably just interested in "getting off' and getting some money for it. I also doubted that he was truly a virgin; it seemed likely that he had prior experience in getting money from western gay men. I did encour­ age Ravi to respond if he felt my comments were unfair. He never did. 1 hope he was able to learn something from hav­ ing met us. I don't think I'll ever find out.

and police personnel based along the coun­ try's key highways, and even students, who have been found visit­ ing sex workers accord­ ing to recent studies."

The words "gay" and "homosexual" weren't mentioned at all, any­ where!

Can it be that gay sex is not a contribut­ ing factor to AIDS in Nepal? Or do public officials and the press have their heads buried in the sand, not wanting to admit that some of the intense friendships among Nepali men encompass not just warm interactions, but hot ones? I sus­ pect that unprotected anal sex among men is a serious problem in Nepal, just like it is in the rest of the world.

Ignoring it is not a very good idea!

Nepali attitudes toward sex are like­ ly to change over the next few years.

For better or worse, western values are definitely infiltrating in urbanized Kathmandu, where a speedily increasing percent of the population now lives. No country in the world is immune from the drive to "develop" economically, and the results include major change in atti­ tudes toward everything from shoes to religion to music to sex. Over the past few years, the commercial TV station has begun to show Nepali music videos every day, and people with access to TV are watching them a lot. The videos are almost as erotic as their counterparts on MTV in the West. Add that to the influ­ ence of large numbers of western tourists, plus other effects of increasing global communications, and it may not be long before more openness toward the homo- and bi- sides of life becomes commonplace.

Despite my misgivings about the sexual attitudes in Nepal, I’ve fallen in love with the place, and hope to return in the near future. I’d like to find gay people there, and to discover appro­ priate ways to create gay community, so that young people have someplace to turn if they don't fit into the grow-upget-married-have-kids mold. But I feel that this must be approached with extreme senstitivity, because the American model of gay pride would be way out of context on the other side of the planet. If any RFD readers know Nepali queers, or have any insights that may be helpful, I’d love to hear from you. Contact me at mountane@hotmail.com.

But for we, the question has been raised:

If I had been brought up in a society

where touching guys all over was socially acceptable, zvould I still have turned out gay? Or maybe bisexual? I do think it's possible...

*

*

*

Despite my curiosity, this was as close as 1 got to meeting gay Nepalis.

Not that I didn't see public affection between men everywhere I went. Like most Asian countries, male-to-male friendships in Nepal include a high degree of physical intimacy, something that's very striking to western eyes.

And it's not just slapping each other on the back - not at all. Guys hold hands with each other in public, walk with their arms closely around each other, etc.

When I rode the tiny tuk-tuks (less-thanmini vans that are part of the public transportation network), I was startled when men would lean on the upper thighs of other men to steady them­ selves as they found seats. Locals didn't seem startled at all, although to me such physical contact had an undeniable sex­ ual charge. Different!

Any sense of queer community, or opportunity to develop gay relation­ ships, is completely hidden in this part of the world. My friend Anna, who has been to Nepal many times, told me about traveling with two young Nepali guys who were very close friends, and who engaged in playful physical contact with each other all the time. After about a week together, Anna felt she knew them well enough to ask about the atti­ tude of local people toward homosexu­ ality. She was stunned by what hap­ pened: the wonderful camaraderie which she had experienced with the guys was shattered, and for the rest of their time together, an atmosphere of tense discomfort prevailed among the group.

Anna wondered if the availability of male-to-male physical contact in this culture provided an outlet for men s' need for same-sex intimacy, and that as a result, there truly was very Little queer

bonding. I don't know much about genetics, so I can't imagine how long it would take for a culture to "breed out" deviant sexual orientations.

My guess is that it would take a pretty long time! But for me, the question has been raised: If 1 had been brought up in a society where touching guys all over was socially acceptable, would I still have turned out gay? Or maybe bisexu­ al? ! do think it's possible...

What is clear, though, is that this I Lindu-based society, with its strict assignment of gender roles, has no room for openness in sexual orientation. For most Nepali families, when a boy is born, he is expected to learn a trade or profession, get married, have kids, and preserve the religious and cultural tradi­ tions of his ethnic group. When a girl is born, she is trained in household duties and child rearing (plus farming, for rural families), so she can be a good wife and servant. There is very, very little room for choice in the lives of Nepali people - they are largely pre-pro­ grammed from birth. With no options for other lifestyles, it seems likely that kids with gay sexual desires force them­ selves to cope as best they can with the only life they can imagine - a similar life to that of their parents and grandpar­ ents.

Yet another indication of the lack of queer visibility in Nepal is the government's response to AIDS. This past December, World AIDS Day was commemorated with a large public rally at Dashrath Stadium. Prime Minister Deuba announced the formation of a National AIDS Council, on which he will serve as chairman. But in the arti­ cle about this milestone in the Kathmandu Post, the demographics of HIV were estimated to be 50% injecting drug users, 17% female sex workers the rest are "general public". A press release from the government indicated that AIDS education, such as it is, has been targeted toward those top two groups, as well as "truck drivers, army 24

Chapter 14

Separations

We arc not looking for fancy analysis full of rhetoric of gay liberation but rather would like to hear about you, the land you live with, what you are thinking, feeling, doing.

- Stewart Scofield

REBELS, RUBYFRUIT, AND RHINESTONES QUEERING

T

he caravan of VW vans and pickup trucks carrying Tar Heel emigrants wound around the three-mile narrow ridge overlooking steep wooded hollows.

As the band approached the summit of Short Mountain, they turned off onto another gravel road leading them down into a two-hundred-acre enclave of apple trees, groundhogs, and spring waters.

___

SPACE IN THE

STONEWALL SOUTH

On that warm day in 1973, Clint Pyne's first task was to unload the goats, which "a guy named Jimmy claimed were descendants from those at the Carl Sandburg home." As he settled the animals in the old barn, fellow travelers from the burnt-out Tick Creek Collective hauled wood stoves into the two-room log cabin, divided by a chimney with a fireplace on either side.

During the first couple of weeks these rural revolu­ tionaries cooked meals in the barn. Clint remembers rambling discussions by kerosene lantern light: "how to find happiness, friends, and a free life ... how to create and nurture a secure base where ideas of social change and of new (non-nuclear) families can find a home."

During the late sixties and early sev­ enties, intentional communities dotted "Amerika," particularly in the Southwest and South, where land was cheap and neighbors distant. Most of these, such as the Skinnerian-blessed Twin Oaks Community in Virginia and Steve Gaskin's The Farm near Nashville, were heterosexually oriented. Hippie homesteaders had abandoned the urban-based political assault on "the System" of unfetered capitalism and runaway consumerism. Less noticeably, lesbians and gay men - tiring of the Castro or Fire Island or burned out from lesbian-feminist or gay liberation organ­ izing in the cities, entered rural life.

I*, *

JAMES T. SEARS

And some of those retreating to such enclaves, like Pyne, abandoned their heterosexual identities. Gay, straight, or in-between, this new Aquarian Age of homesteaders embraced principles of self-sufficiency, nonviolence, vegetarian­ ism, participatory governance, and ecoawareness.

Not everyone, of course, shared these new-society principles. Some times Hoover's boys would drive up from their Memphis field office. Peering out through the oak and sassafras trees, they monitored their "subject . . . with brown braided hair, a moustache, and goatee, and wearing gold earrings" living with a group of "'hippies'... in a 'teepee' and an old house."

Clint Pyne, though, had cast aside his given name as well as the Tick Creek political activism for the anonymity, soli­ tude, and simplicity of Short Mountain.

Short Mountain folks wanted to take e v e r o n e ' s f e e l i n g s a n d p o in t s o f view into a c c o u n t .

— M ilo G u t h r i e P y n e 26

Visions of a swift political revolution had met an Icarus-like fate and the postNixon "climate was very different."

Clint, now known as Milo Guthrie, explains: "Once the peace treaty was signed, the war issue had been defused as a major issue for demonstrations.

Peopled just wanted to get back to their lives and not be so intensely socially active."

Milo was hopeful when he and five others purchased the Tennessee proper­ ty: "I naively imagined that my needs and visions were shared by all. I also naively assumed that these twenty or so people would continue to be able to live together and communicate with one another, and that we could continue to live and grow as a people." But, as win­ ter approached, divisions within the Short Mountain tribe appeared, particu­ larly between the "communalists and the nuclear family folds."

Fern, one of the six deed holders, built a yurt (a round wooden structure) on the ridge past the big barn, with his Jacket photos, clockwise from top left, courtesy of S a m Hunter. Free Press.

Charolette. NC.. Jack Nichois; Rita Wanstrom, Greg Day; Lorraine Fontana Jacket design Trudi Gershenov

girlfriend, Laura. Although friends with both, Milo "hung out more with the communally oriented group" in the tipi.

The tipi "Wasn't practical for the long term, he admits. ' But it symbolized people who wanted a rough-and-tumble communal experience versus those who were more traditional."

Back-to-the-land rebels were general­ ly more into the communal lifestyle in theory than in fact. Short Mountain folks, Milo recalls, wanted "to take everyone's feelings and points of views into account." But, by mid-November, Janice (known as Daisy) was already troubled by Fern and Laura. "They're into such a different place than me,'' she jotted in her journal. "I'm into grubbing and living in a tipi and being real and not being a hippie. 1 don't see myself as a hippie farmer."

Besides the communalists and the nuclear family folks, there were the "bad girls," who were willing to "throw all conventions to the wind," and who included lesbian relationships among the possibilities for their lives. Daisy became the lover of a woman who was married to an older man. "It got very out of control," declares Milo. "But as far as the Short Mountain group was concerned that was just part of the changes people go through." Pro-femi­ nist members like Milo also clashed with those who "didn't have much patience with all the changes people were going through around feminism and women's liberation." Meanwhile, Milo "was exploring my sexuality in various ways.

I was involved with James - one of the more consistent relationships with a man" but had occasional "one night stands" with women.

Other tenderfoot counterculturalists were also moving into middle Tennessee. Merril Mushroom and Gabby Haze, along with their cousin Billy, Julia, and her lover Sylvia, were living on Dry Creek at the base of Short Mountain. "I was amazed by the fact that we lived in the middle of nowhere but there was this intense counter-cul­ tural thing happening recollects Gabby.

"Some of it was gay, most of it was straight - all of it was drug related at some level. We wondered, Is it going on everywhere? Is there this madness hap­ pening in every little nook and cranny or are we sort of this special place?"

In addition to the Short Mountain and Dry Creek folks, there was a group known as Door Ajar near Temperance

The early R FD was never about isolationism; it was a bo u t tra n sfo rm in g c u ltu re .

Hall. These social activists eventually published the People's Paper, filling the "gap between the Smithville Review and the Cannon Courier" and providing a forum for ideas. Like settlers of old, Merril continues, "People would come from sixty miles around and have barnraisings and dances, picnics and cookouts, pot lucks and bar games. That’s how we met the hippie straight people on Short Mountain."

Members of the various collectives and extended households often gathered at the local food co-op, the Good Earth.

At one co-op meeting, Gabby spotted a man "with long hair and kind of effemi­ nate. I whispered to Merril, 'Do you think he's gay?' She said, 'Of course he's gay! Go and talk to him.'" As Gabby got to know Milo, "the original people at Short Mountain were begin­ ning to drift apart." Summer visitors and hangers-on would stay for a time, but the Short Mountain collective was teetering on collapse as most of the orig­ inal members departed.

Milo's mid-seventies memory "is lit­ tered with stories of communal groups split up, broken; land lost or vacant. I know many people who have to one degree or another (apparently) given up the search for radical modes of living and accepted straight jobs, marriage, or individual city life as their lot." While some fled the back-to-the-land move­ ment for the normalcy of straight jobs, others "living straight lives in hippie clothing" moved from one collective to the next. Meanwhile, most rural gays led secretive lives invisible to their rural communities, collectivist friends, and the gay press.

After one uneventful co-op meeting, Gabby chatted with Milo. "Do you know anything about this new maga­ zine for rural gays?" he asked. "I know all about that!" Milo smiled. "Friends of mine have already sent me a copy of RFD!" Milo had first heard of the publishing venture as a People's Party organizer attending the spring 1974 Midwest Gay Pride Conference. There he met Stewart Scofield, who worked at an Iowa agri­ cultural research station. At the University of Iowa conference, Scofield spoke informally about the need to net-

-D on E ngstnom work country gay people. He met with an immediate positive response, particu­ larly from his two best friends, Iowa farm boys Don Fngstrom, a "serious art and SDS person" (Then known as DonTevel), and his partner, Rick Graff, a car­ penter.

"The original RFD'ers thought it was really important to build culture," Don emphasizes. From the politics of the street to the culture of the farm, "we would withdraw from the larger com­ munity to sort out our own stuff, build our power and understanding. But we always went back to the large communi­ ty and acted. The early RFD was never about isolationism; it was about trans­ forming culture."

By the mid-seventies, "gay culture" was already undergoing a transforma­ tion. Gay liberation rags like Sunfloxoer were distant activist memories as gay lifestyle magazines and newspapers such as the Advocate crowded city newstands and sold briskly at newly opened gay bookstores.

Stewart had returned from a twomonth stay at the epicenter of gay cul­ ture, the Castro, in late 1973. Lodging with six "straight but lovable" commu­ nalists in an Iowa "windy farmhouse," he, like Milo, found himself cut off "with two feet of snow on the ground, short winter days, lots of coffee on the stove, and an empty mailbox at the end of the driveway." As Scofield thumbed through an issue of the California maga­ zine Country Women, he wondered why there wasn't something similar for gay men. "I just knew that I couldn't be the only gay man who liked rural life — though it sure seemed that way."

Stewart penned a note to Mother Earth Nezvs, a longtime journal with advice on rural living, and enclosed payment for a brief notice in its Position and Situation listing: "Country isolation, need to share, especially among gay people." Six months later he received from Mother Forth his unpublished ad and an "agonized, soul-searched" letter: "Many of our readers are not young, hip, open-minded folks, but are little old ladies in tennis shoes." But by then, Stewart had already taken action.

Stewart arrived at the 1974 Midwest Continued on page 4H

27

Returning to the Scene of a Crime

By MaxZine Weinstein Spring Birthing Pubescence

It has become an annual ritual.

April rolls around and we pile into vehicles to drive to the quaint ham­ let of Oak Ridge. Some of us are decked out in our finest drag rags.

Others peel off shirts to soak up the spring rays. We are loaded with our various toys, such as stilts and jug­ gling clubs.

We meet at Bissel Park and eyes rove the crowd looking for friends as well as people to cruise. Festivities include live music from the stage, free vegetarian food , and the occa­ sional street performance number.

This scene could be a gay pride festival, hut it is a demonstration against the Y-12 Plant in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, the last full-scale operating nuclear weapons produc­ tion plant in the United States. Our gang of queer folk has come togeth­ er with hundreds of people to say NO!" to US global domination and nuclear weapons. We express our creative spirit and loving desires at the gates of the local factory which pumps out weapons of mass destruction.

War is hell, but it is also an adrenaline rush, a life-and-death series of battles which draws on themes of domination, intimacy and eroticized metaphors (complete with shoot ing off phallic-shaped projec­ tiles). War and destruction is not only the most popular theme in Hollywood movies, but it also pene­ trates sexual cultures. When I sat down to write about nukes, 1 chan­ neled the following series of sexualized musings.

As I write this I flashback to my heyday as an anti-military organiz­ er. I am definitely a throwback to the 1980’s. I realize it is more popu­ lar these days to play “pin the tail on the Taliban” than to chant “2,4,6, 8 smash the state and masturbate”.

I am turned on by sweaty bodies grooving through the streets, fanta­ sizing that humankind can prevent the apocalypse now. We giggle as we process by fabulous tourist spots in Oak Ridge like the Museum of Atomic Energy and the Atomic Cafe.

It is surrealism at its best in the original city constructed as a secre­ tive factory town which built the bombs dropped on Japan during one of those wars to end all wars.

It is significant to march togeth­ er with queers at a time of patriotic fervor when attempts to get gays into the military remains a celebrat­ ed cause. Some homosexuals want a piece of the action and hunger to dress in camouflage and go overseas to bomb villages in the Middle East and Central Asia, Columbia and anywhere else the US decides it can decimate. National gay magazines like The Advocate cash in with cover stories depicting hot men in uniforms. When we go to protest militarism in Oak Ridge, we somberly and flamboyantly pro­ claim that we are homosexual, not homicidal.

Adulthood: Immaculate Deception

The end of the cold war marked new levels of maturity... when 28

media conglomerates and weapons contractors merged to further enrich the military-industrial com­ plex. The public used to be bom­ barded with news about the nuclear threat to justify the arms race.

During most of the 90’s the media generally ignored the issue: the US is the only remaining superpower and it was convenient to act like nuclear weapons were a footnote in history. Meanwhile the US has been refurbishing and building new nuclear weapons. The difference has been that it has not been in the public eye. It might not be kosher with other countries, but the US simply ignores international opin­ ion, World Court denunciations of US nuclear weapons programs and the very treaties signed by this country.

Where were you when... in 1995 the world came within 4 minutes of a nuclear war after an American satellite launched in Norway showed up as a nuclear weapons launch on Russian comput­ ers? From the Cuban Missile Crisis to the Persian Gulf War, there have been dozens of times when we came perilously close to a nuclear war.

Nuclear weapons (especially those kept on hair trigger alert - ready to fire in minutes) can only ensure a permanent state of insecurity.

Premature ejaculation Nuclear bombs count among their victims those who breathe the air and drink the water near the Oak Ridge bomb plant. Y-12 has released mercury, uranium, cadmi­ um, lead, arsenic, hydrogen fluo­ ride, PCBs and other poisons into the air and water off-site. Moreover,

as is typical in cases of industrial contamination, the closest neighbor­ hood is an African-American com­ munity.

The Oak Ridge Environmental Peace Alliance (OREPA) was formed to address these concerns and to create a movement of civil resist­ ance to stop the boys with their toys from annihilating all of us. The US government, meanwhile, continues to implement long-term plans to increase nuclear weapons work, including the construction of new $4 billion weapons facilities at Oak Ridge which will allow' them to mul­ tiply their bomb production ten fold.

To learn more, check out the video called Stop The Bombs, nar­ rated by Martin Sheen and OREPA

organizer Paloma Galindo. Its an excellent way to learn more about the disarmament movement.

(Contact OREPA at www.stopthebombs.org. 865-483-8202). More importantly, join up with gardeners and musicians and queers and col­ lege students and chefs and femi­ nists and yoga freaks and home school devotees on the weekend of April 14th as we continue the cam­ paign against nuclear madness.

Retirement: Cruise men, not missiles.

Sometimes these demonstra­ tions get tedious and frustratingwe’ve done it for years and the greedy contractors still get their wray. And their crimes against humanity rew'ard them with lots of money. Active resistance doesn’t

pay. I fantasize about leaving the activist lifestyle and becoming responsible. We could open our own Nuke Weapons collective and maybe find a way to recycle some spent uranium into glow-in-lhe-dark lube.

I would adopt a new faerie namecall me Half Life. We could buy out some media and control what it is people learn about. Of course we would hire a good accountant (I hear Art hur Andersen is looking to cook up some corporate books).

But wdio can resist a good parade?

If you wish to attend with us folks from the Middle Tennessee Faerie Activist Brigade (FAB), drop me a line at maxzine69@yahoo.com, or call 615-597-4409.

Laparoscopic Fertility Ritual

by Tucker Lieberm an

She ends in order to begin.

Tefillin seven tim es around the arm . The phylac­ teries are em pty now (a surgery perform ed at the end of a long journey). S he still prays, without the Hebrew, kneel­ ing, standing, anyw here around the room in morning light.

Today is surgery. Pockets filled with points of ref­ erence: two m ale sym bols linked, strung on a chain; two volcanic rocks rounded by water; a m onkey figurine with an enormous phallus, baring its beating heart; the limp tefillin.

Points of reference is all they are, rem inders of the world she leaves behind when she crosses the great divide. Her arm is pricked by Novocaine, then the IV, then a plastic placeholder. Antibiotics drip down her veins. They give her Valium, then a sleep that is m ore than sleep.

Inflation of the belly via the navel. Lanced as she is through the m iddle and slum bering at rock bottom, the needle pumps air into her, and she grows, like an apple, swelling under the thin, silver stem . A tiny cam era exca­ vates the grotto of her bowels.

Two precise incisions descend like nighthawks and retreat with the small, red prey.

No children laugh inside her anym ore, but the voice of the G reat Spirit booms like a waterfall. H er repro­ ductive organs now are tw eezer stash, biohazardous waste. S he attunes to the sound of a newborn wail inside

of her. This time it is a different pitch.

Kali calls the winds of change. The dead will rise from their bones, the parijata flower will shed its essence into cavities of stigm ata. O sanctity my body. O my purple flesh. O my softlight warm th. Suddenly every aspect of being has a nam e.

How is this fertility? I’ll tell you.

Because these organs are atrophied and cystic, and their removal is health.

Because these organs produce estrogen, and this brain runs on high octane testosterone.

Because she is a he— a girl who becam e a m an by choice.

Because these words are the first tim e in years that he has referred to himself with fem inine pronouns.

Call it em bracing the dark side, facing the past, reclaim ing language. Call it shapeshifting. Call it abolition of the ego.

Because this is a gay m an’s body and it has a gay m an’s fertility. That is: stream lined, prepared to m eet the universal Forces and receive their charge, scoured, hon­ est, breast pulled back to reveal the living, pulsing heart.

V ’imru am en.

Her mind is open. H er cornfield has been laid bare in preparation for winter, for the long, invigorating sleep.

29

Photo: Jai

Bear Essentials: Bear Spirit in Community

By Ron Suresha A1 Cotton is an Alabama native who moved to Atlanta in 1983. He holds a BA in English and histo­ ry, and a Masters in English. He helped to start four gay commu­ nity publications in Atlanta, including

available.

Rev. Jim Mitulski became pastor of Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) of San Francisco in 1986. and then served as senior pastor from 1998 Photo Courtesy Jim Mitulski for four years. Before MCC/SF, he was associate pastor of the MCC in New York City's Greenwich Village. Rev. Mitulski has been an activist for gay and lesbian civil rights and for the right to marry. He has a bachelor's degree from Columbia University, a master of divinity degree from Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, California, and was a Merrill Fellow- at the Harvard Divinity School in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He is cur­ rently the executive director of Rainbow- Adult Community Housing in San Francisco. There is a con­ cise appreciation of the preeminence of self-esteem among virtues in Proverbs: "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?” The play on words aside, this passage speaks vol­ umes about men in the Bear community, many whose spirits have been wounded or broken by homophobia and body fascism.

If a man has proper self-esteem devoid of egoism that is, if he feels good about his essential nature - then he will most likely feel positively about his self-image, regardless of what body type he may be: hairy, hefty, or even un-handsome. Conversely, if a man doubts his innate self-worth - because of negative family, cultural, religious, or societal messages - no amount of money, power, status, sex, or food will fill the hole of that hot tomless pit of the soul. Repeatedly in my encounters and interviews with Bears from around the world, men who were in my opinion attractive and desirable confessed to a lack of self-esteem. Hearing these men's experiences confirmed that many, if not most, Bears have rarely, if ever, had their basic natures affirmed in a positive, holistic, unconditional manner - until they came into contact with the Bear community of men. Bears are in need of healing on

Visionary: N ew sletter o f Gay S pirit Visions and the A m ethyst lit­

erary journal. He has written a general interest column and a book review column for Southern Voice. photo: cm dy Sproui His work has also appeared in White C rane Jo u r n a l and Gay & L esbian Review. He was a member of the Gay Spirit Visions planning committee for eight years, and is currently Atlanta's Body Electric coordinator. He has been a practitioner of Shambhala Training meditation since 1995.

Alex Damman has lived in Kansas, Missouri, New Jersey, Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, and Illinois, and received degrees in math, com­ puter science, and landscape design. He Photo: Biiiy Trorn helped to found the intentional community Acorn (Cuckoo, VA). For more than ten years he has attended Faerie gatherings with the circles at Short Mountain Sanctuary (TN), the New York circle, Faerie Camp Destiny (VT), and Circle Star (CA), not to mention Rainbow Family Tribe national gatherings and others.

He is fascinated by plants and permaculture, owns a farm, and rides a motorcycle. He currently works as a computer consultant in Peoria, Illinois, and is extremely 31

gay masculinity, especially in terms of community. many levels - personal, community, and cultural - and I Would any of you subscribe to the idea of there being a hope that conversations, such as the online discussion certain essence of Beardom? recorded here, serve as chicken soup (or whatever the Jim: "Essence of Beardom" - my favorite scent!

Bearish equivalent may be) for the wounded Bear soul.

Ron: First, let's get a little background. Jim, how and Sweat, the natural male body smell.

Ron: Bear magazine stated it initially as when did you first learn about Bears?

"Masculinity without the trappings," although it may Jim: I think sometime during the height of the not engender those same ideals now. Is there something AIDS years here - maybe early 90s, or even before. The more to Beardom than this, some essence that we might Bear culture seemed a permutation of the leather com­ munity, centered on the Lone Star principally. And it call "Bear spirit"? was a distinct outgrowth of the AIDS years - a curious Jim: Trappings is a great multivalent word to use affirmation of the male body during a period when our with Bears - what Bear likes to be "trapped" in a partic­ bodies were changing. Bear" was in some quarters a ular construction of masculinity?

Al: I always saw that slogan as a slam at the sort of moniker that was greeted with some derision. At times, both younger guys as well as peers my age described the elaborate masculinity or "effeminate" masculinity of other people - those were the "traps," I thought.

Bear scene as an excuse for not conforming to the "right" image.

Ron: Perhaps Bearness Al: As for me, itself is the essential sub­ Conversely, if a man doubts his innate stance - some sort of dis­ I’m fairly certain tilled masculinity. . . . my connection was self-worth - because of negative family, Al: It's really hard to through Bear magazine. I know cultural, religious, or societal messages define masculinity in a particular way, and then 1 have issue #10 - no amount of money, power, status, not come to objectify that or 12 at home, so sex, or food will fill the hole of that bot­ definition. that would be a Ron: That reminds me clue as to when of an Eastern spiritual 11989-901. When I tomless pit of the soul. concept of "golden hand­ first connected cuffs" - giving up one limited identification just to step with the magazine, I got a sense that these guys in the magazine looked like guys I might actually see in a bar into another. Is anything special about being a Bear that might mean greater freedom, sexually or in any not the buffed and pumped porn stars that were com­ other way? pletely unattainable. I didn't have words for it then, but in retrospect, it feels as if we, as gay men, were shifting Al: I m not so Buddhist that I can give up personal from looking for an erotic ideal to eroticizing things that identifications, but there's a point where they do limit you in ways that I don't find healthy. were attainable - yet still is derided.

Jim: Affirming Bear looks has a spiritual dimension Jim: Al, you may feel that Bear culture is not porn- all men, not just certain types, are made "in the image driven or depicted, but the first "Bear porn" from Brush and likeness of god," to quote Genesis - Bearness is an Creek 1 saw changed "porn" for me from depiction of aspect of divinity. . . fantasy to that of reality.

Ron: . . . Do you think, perhaps, that identifying Al: It certainly started out that way, although I'm with Bears has helped some men to get in touch with not sure it hasn't been "corrupted" of its reality element. that totemic part of themselves?

Ron: Alex, how did "Bear" first enter your aware­ Al: Well, perhaps some, but for most, the farthest it ness? goes is into T-shirt purchases, I think!

Alex: I became aware of Bears at some point in the Ron: So, are Bears just hairy urban queers? Or is late 1980s because it overlapped my own tastes fairly there something more? well. I joined New England Bears in 1993. I went to a Al: Well, at least that much we can agree on! winter run inProvincetown. I realized that some people Jim: So reductionist! Possibly true, but I hate to are heavily into Beardom as their personal culture. concede that.

Al: 1ve seen it go from being an identification to an Alex: I don't think of Beardom solely as an urban obsession pretty quickly. phenomenon.

Ron: Perhaps that speaks to how desperately some Ron: Alex, I'd be interested in hearing how you Bear-type men long to find a community to belong to. compare the spiritual fiber of Bears to that of the Al: Yes, to come out and still be rejected because of Radical Faeries. your body type can be incredibly devastating.

Alex: Clearly the spiritual aspect of Radical Faeries Alex: 1 tend to just be - to discover myself and see is more explicit and is expressed through ritual that you what community is out there. can participate in. As I said. Bears are in search of their Jim: I think Bear community might possibly be true natural identities, and Faeries are also in search of more assimilated here. There are Bear-bars, Bear coffee the most charming and amusing expression of their shops, and even Bear gyms - we are everywhere. natures.

Although I don't belong to a Bearclub, I do know lots of Al: I don’t know many Bears who think of them­ Bears, and I’ve been to Bear sex parties, some of which selves as in search of their true identity. I think, when were quite large.

Ron: . . . I'd like us to look at how Bears manifest 32

they find Bear community, they think they've found it.

For them. Bear is the end of the search, not the begin­ ning.

Alex: Humans are alwayslooking searching seeking/finding.

Jim: We may be ascribing more intentionality or consciousness to Bear culture than is sometimes pres­ ent.

Ron: Is an interest in spiritual or interior life com­ pletely separate from most men s Bearness(es)?

Al: My online handle is Bear Seeker, and the profile says, I am a Bear and a seeker, though not always seeking Bears. I don't think Bears are any more or less likely than anyone else to seek whatever it is that we are seeking.

Alex: I feel that interior life is separate from Beardom, which is largely a social connection phenome­ non.

Ron: But aren't the RFs a social phenomenon?

Alex: Faeries probably exist on more levels, since there is definitely a tribal identity, which is a stronger M.O. than Bears meeting each other socially. . .

Al: Almost every ’’identity" starts from a place of authenticity, and then becomes "corrupted" by the way our media-driven and capitalist culture turns it into a niche that it can market it. "Bearness” started as an authentic response to a culture that objectified and ide­ alized one type of gay person. But it's almost inevitable that if you come up with another choice, it will get objec­ tified, too. Now you can buy Bear porn that objectifies us just as much as regular porn or gay porn objectifies its subject. In that sense (which is very Buddhist at its root), any "identity" moves away from being an authen­ tic expression, and toward being a niche version of the same stereotype/archetype that you started with. That’s why I feel objectified, sometimes, when people go crazy over the hair on my back, just as much as women do when men ogle their breasts.

Ron: Let's refocus now on how Bears form commu­ nity and how those communities compare with other gay subcultures.

Jim: The impulse to form community, rather than living solely or in pairs in isolation, is intrinsically spiri­ tual. Bears are often seeking more than a husband, and Bear marriage is sometimes more complex than some forms of gay marriage. Bear marriages seem more like multiple-branched "families."

Alex: Yes, good point. That is a very striking and wonderful way of putting it, but these processes have a point of view centered on the self, different froma more universal cosmology that people's spiritual lives usually try to approach.

Ron: Do Bears form community in unique ways?

Al: I don't know of any unique ways. There are bars, runs, relationships. They use much the same patterns that leather groups use, so I wouldn't call it unique, though it may be unique to those two subcultures.

Alex: I think that being a Bear helps to filter down the crush of humanity so that you can have constraints in choosing your circle of friends. . . .

Jim: Bear community also has a healing dimension, not just from the exclusions we experience as adults in the gay community, but also as a corrective to childhood

or adolescent exclusions.

Al: The great charge I got came from being among a group of men who define my body type as being attrac­ tive. I didn t feel like there was only one person in the bar that I was attracted to. and yet wonder if my body type disqualified him from being interested in me.

Alex: I agree that Bears are going to individually find their own favorite aspects of being involved in Bear community.

Jim: It’s tempting to question whether there is a Bear identity. The more we deconstruct it. the more I wonder if it so different from the experience of other gay men. Still, there is something unmistakable about it.

Ron: Yes, Jim, exactly as Al was describing his experience of the great charge." That experience must be greater than a mere ego-rush at being objectified. I think most of the Bear-identified men 1 know have had that same feeling. So perhaps, in the final analysis, we re better off talking about "the Bear experience, rather than "Bear identity."

Al: I like that much better.

Alex: That is much more meaningful to me.

Jim: I am uncomfortable with the notion of Bear ontology, in philosophical terms. However, we did all arrive in Bear community for reasons, many of them shared. For me, whether this is urban (San Franciscan) or common, it is inextricably linked to the HIV experi­ ence, in addition to the other experiences we’ve refer­ enced.

Al: Even if "Bear identity" stands for very little, the "Bear experience" still happens on a regular basis.

When it does, it transforms the sexual self-image of hairy, stocky guys who have come to believe that they are erotically untouchable by the rest of their communi­ ty, and who come to discover, almost miraculously, that they're not. It's in each man's "Bear experience" where the magic still happens.

Excerpted from the complete discussion in Bears on Bears: Interviews & Discussions (Alyson). Copyright© 2002. All rights reserved. Ron Suresha writes and lives in the green part of Boston, www.ronsuresha.com 33

** ;

sewn LiPs, bLAcK LaCe & SliNky HiPs

Then I don’t think any guy who 0 bought just-released copies of J • "Sticky Finger," or "Fxile On Main Street” has much o f a problem with queers today because they understand how a guy can have really strong feelings for another guy.

When Mick Jagger pranced around the stage in those sparkling body stockings, every guy in the audience wanted Mick’s tongue and those lips, or his dick or his ass.

It rather startled them at first. Guys kind of had to go all private and secluded with it. But it didn't go away. It got big­ ger. Maybe even harder.

And so did Jagger. I very time Jagger did that hip shake baby, that pout, the guys drooled, swooned, lusted and just got used to Jagger turning them on. I mean, it felt good. Like a bleeding volcano. Salivating. And you know, having another guy involved with this isn’t such a big deal. Is it?

Yeah. Maybe it is.

So most of these guys that age are not queers. But the whole idea of people being turned on that way, they do under­ stand. Because it happened to them. f rom all the First-World’s middle-aged fags: "Thank you, Mick. It made things so much easier, and so much hotter, Star-Star." / ■

■

by HORSE His chin is pronounced and kind of announces his teethedged smile. And eyes blue and bright, and clear and those eyes are somehow attached to that smile.

Then In the Deep South today, men 0 who are close to each other use a • familiar greeting. They do not call each other Dude, or Guy. They call each other, "Hon." And it's so sweet and it's a guy thing and not a queer thing. Maybe that makes it even sweeter. And close.

When someone calls you "Hon," it generally means: "You know everything there is to know about me, and me about you. I am completely comfortable to be here with you."

And that’s a nice feeling.

And clothes. My goddess, how that man can wear clothes. Nothing ever looks every-day on him. And every day someone at the Sanctuary will see him walking in from afar and say to themselves, "My goddess, Honza. Howf you can wear clothes!"

Scarves like Yassar Arafat's coil up his neck until they look like neck rings. Wrestling togs with choker necklaces and tasteful earrings. Baggy pants with pockets, strings and zip­ pers that flare out, skirt-length. Most of the clothes show off these huge, tall, black boots that begin below his knees and lace down to the ground. Tightly.

Oh, and let me put a good word in here for "plunging" which is what those boots do around his calves.

And, my favorite, his black lace dress.

The dress is vertical just like Honza is. It follows his body lines up from the ground and down along each sleeve. It covers his entire body from the neck down, leaving only his hands and feet uncovered by black lace. Through it, you can see his huge boots and his tattoos.

The front panel o f the dress has an image from a medieval painting. The Madonna, probably. (She was painted a lot in those days.) And the black lace and the virgin look good together, surrounding Honza like a w-eb.

I saw it first on my way to a demonstration against nuclear weapons staged at Oak Ridge. Tennessee. We were in a van together. He wore a rol!ed-up and cocked-down white

Now Add one more syllable to that 0 greeting, and you get something all • together special and the reason 1 recalled all those guys burning like Jagger's red coal carpet.

Add Zaa, and you get Honza, who is staying at Short Mountain Sanctuary these days; and he’s disturbing those straight boys just like Jagger did. And I am here to bear wit­ ness. And share that with you because it turns me on, and it’s supposed to because I am queer and welcome it.

Honza is from an F.astem Furopean nation that is being ripped apart into new, smaller countries. They're inventing themselves these days and so is Honza.

He's about 6 ’4" and vertical. His Mohawk is a slash of jet black hair — Hopped over most of the time. And slash, like a smooth, sleek sw ath of brushed paint, is how his body looks.

34

cowboy hat. The front and the back o f the hat were curled to tine points. The sides, rolled up and arching front-to-back to those pointy curls.

He had an unfiltered Camel hanging off the comer o f his mouth and could smile, pout or scowl with that cigarette manip­ ulated as though it were a pup­ pet speaking out loud like pup­ pets can do.

When he stood up in that clingy black lace dress. I did what the boots did and plunged.

Plunged to that place all those guys in Jagger's audience went.

And I had company.

The demonstration was rather tedious. But the show Honza created just by walking around with his cigarette, hat, boots and black lace dress made up for that.

The demonstration was made up of college students recruited from most campuses east of the Dakotas. Them, and a few people just a bit older than Sticky Finger, still in the dissent business and still doing good work.

photo: Jai

never worn a dress before. It was his first outing. But l men­ tioned before that right now he's deep into inventing him­ self. I'm just lucks enough to be around while he it does it.

The demonstration dragged on and Honza's drag lifted things up. again and again. As the day wore on. we had white lines drawn around bodies on the pavement, and polite arrests for trespassing while the docu­ mentary cameras rolled. There are probably videotapes circu­ lating through liberal house­ holds as you read this.

And. the guys snapping their heads back to Honza seemed to get over their fears, and started liking the feelings they felt. Lots of shrugging and smiling and rivet-fast staring. It was the best show going there at the locked gates. And why not enjoy it?

It was the same thing their older brothers felt 30 years ago when another slinky snake s j a s h e t ] ar0Und.

He had an unfiltered Camel hanging o ff the comer o f his mouth and could smile, pout or scowl with that cigarette manipulated as though it were a puppet speaking out loud like puppets can do.

Addendum: On the day of Beltane, after the ribbons had been woven and sewn down the Maypole, Honza’s smile and eyes asked me over the grassy knoll to him in his black lace dress. His lips were stitched closed tight with needle and thread. (!!)

Oh right. He’s still deep into inventing Honza. And isn’t this an interesting, new tw'ist on things?

And 1 said, "You just know I'm going to need a kiss when you’re wearing my favorite dress." And he kissed me through the thread and stretched his lips apart in the spaces between the thread pulling tight on the holes in his face to tell me "Happy Beltane."

And 1 said, "Thanks, Hon." And it felt good. And 1 walked on by, and turned my head again to him. and looked back, and in the woods I saw a man in a sparkling body stocking, prancing in the distance far behind him, and I smiled at both and thought, "Thank good­ ness they work for the goddess."

And I’m bearing witness because I do too, and thought you should know about this powerful magic.

Honza passed through the crow'd and he created a wake the way a boat does - behind him. of turned college-boy heads all out there for peace and the elimination of nuclear weapons, and just now figuring out w'ho they are, when this beautiful apparition walks by. And that hat and smoke and that black lace dress. And they get hot, and it carries their head to the side as Honza walks by. and they snap out of it. and remember they’re nice straight guys from Minnesota doing good work at the Y-12 Nuclear Weapons Facility for the bene­ fit of humanity.

But Honza didn’t stop. Just like Jagger didn’t. His full and total success at androgyny continued with the wave-mak­ ing. He was so much a hot guy, and was such a hot woman, all at the same time, and you know how difficult that is to cre­ ate. Balance like that between the worlds is a tough one, and you hardly ever sec it.

Oh you see people working at getting there. But it usually involves irony. This was about heat and not about irony. (And I’m so over irony as a style.) Later, Honza told me he had

35

Raccoon River Homestead

by Cotton

I

want to tell you all about a little place I know, that is very dear to my heart, a place of sanctu­ ary for one and all. The Raccoon River Homestead. It may be described differently by everybody, but this is my definition after having lived there for a summer. Harold Wells started this journey, as 1 understand it, 15 years ago, with the purchase of 100 acres on which the lodge stands. Sharing that 100 acres with the goddess of the river. A hard working, honest, and loving man, he saw something bigger and better that he wanted to share with old friends and new. 10 years ago he decided to open it up to a vast assortment of people, all of which have one thing in common, non-discriminate sex, race, religious back­ ground, or sexual orientation.

Out of the woods flew all kinds, many of whom are at peace with themselves enough to let their clothing come off. In my experience, being a naturist, and keep­ ing company with those like me, you can bet I feel safer here than in commercialized public surroundings.

When you decide to remove your clothes in front of a group of people and there are no sexual intentions, the “walls” a person puts up for defense come down. People will talk about anything, I am a true believer that this is a healthy thing. It enables you to be able to reach that inner child. With teaching the inner child, years of past hurt, ridicule, and moral destruction can be repaired. People tend to be more open honest and gen­ uine.

They allow themselves to recreate and heal the part of them that something or someone has damaged or destroyed. Harold’s views on the subject are similar, having been a sex and love therapist for many years.

Allowing ones self to open up that “closed door”, and do the soul searching it requires to repair such damage will constitute, in many cases, returning to that infant state, the coddling of a mother. Many times in homo­ sexuals the repair needs to go on between the father figure and ones self. Closure to ones’ life with others sometime entails extensive exploration into ones sexu­ ality. We are born without clothing, this give us a place to start when trying to tap back into that inner child.

For far too long, gays have been repressed in the industrial world. The Raccoon River Homestead is here for those who need a retreat from the real world. This is a place to let down our hair and make the necessary

Photo: Eric Bonfig

repairs, so to speak. Whether you are here on your own to meditate, or here for the social reassurance from oth­ ers that you and your life style are not wrong, dirty, and sick; this is a place where you will be accepted and not shunned for being yourself, your beliefs, or your looks.

I have AIDS and needed this summer to resusitate myself in my life journey. Others like myself need a place for quiet contemplation, in order to heal oneself.

In this day of HIV and AIDS, many people are suffer­ ing, whether they or a loved one are infected. Harold has always offered his home to those in need, taking no donations from those infected. There are many other diseases that plague us today. If you are sick, dealing with a loved one that is, or just having a hard time.

Harold is just as accepting and giving to those also.

He knows what a God-given gift he has here along the river and he wants it to remain so. I take my time working around here, never in a hurry and never being pushed by Harold. Most times I may be in private med­ itation. Some use the Raccoon River Homestead as a place for recreation, camping, and cookouts, laying out and visiting socially, talking about current events, or even their past experiences. It can be a very therapeu­ tic way to spend a morning, afternoon, evening, week­ end, or summer.

I look up to Harold in many ways.; he has so many stories to tell about his life. They couldn’t fit it all into a mini-series if they tried and I don’t know whether it should be called a drama, comedy, adventure, or even pornographic. If Harold can’t make you smile, cry, or get you worked up in a good way, ready to take on the world with just a few words, then girl, you must be dead. I look to him as a shaman, a religious teacher of life and love. He has had more words of wisdom for me this summer than anybody ever has over my whole 30 years of life.

And where does he find the time. I have found all summer that I have trouble keeping up with him myself, he is go, go, go non-stop. Sometimes chasing him around, I feel like we’re “Lucy and Ethel”. The work is endless out here, the house and yard work alone are a two or more person job.

36

Harold asks for nothing but donations. I guess, if you're going to take the innkeeper's bed. then you should make a donation. He also asks that you respect the land for what it is. I see a wonderful place laid out before us. with much to be offered, and it's getting big­ ger and better each year.

Trying to keep the peace with the neighbors at the same time is not an easy task. We've had them riding our ass lately because the river has a public access and it runs directly through the property. There have been complaints about the nudity. A local radio host has jumped on the bandw'agon, not really caring about his listeners, but to increase his ratings. He stands for all the prejudice and discrimination that we as GLBT peo­ ple have been fighting since before Stonewall.

We need to band together on this issue and take pre­ cautions. Remember where we got the name “faggot”, boys. We never want to end up burning on a bundle of sticks again. The speech these people use on the radio scare me into believing anything is possible. We need awareness, though we are within the law's.

My stay here at the Raccoon River Homestead has strengthened me for this journey. I am about to embark on a once-in-a-life-time experience that will enable me to leave my mark, with the help of the Goddess, in Hawaii. I feel I have a place in the world after all and The Raccoon River Homestead allowed me to find it. This is sacred ground to me just as Short Mountain Sanctuary or Hawaii. Just as all of this Earth should be to each and every one of us. I have been working very hard this summer to leave my mark here, for the Goddess, adding to her worshipping grounds.

Take back the artist in each and every one of us. We must start to supply our own lives with what we need to live from day to day. This will ensure our survival.

We must be prepared for history to repeat itself.

Please, only use violence when necessary to protect

ones life. A time may come when it is necessary but only then will we raise a hand against another human.

You must hold close t he love for yourself and each ot her.

Embrace your body, love it, it is yours and only yours.

Stand up for who you are and your beliefs. May we always live as one, in love and peace with nature and ourselves.

I hope this becomes a source of inspiration for many.

Starting your own journeys in life, bringing about change in a world that is hurting. Our landfills are over flowing and each person can make a difference.

Remember that discrimination is alive and being taught to so many, the blind leading the blind. Take it on yourself to try and open their eyes. Don’t forget that Stonewall was just the beginning.

Michael L. Moon AKA Cotton Candy Moon E-mail: cottoncandymoon@aol.com.

Photo: Eric Bonlig

The RFD COLLECTIVE requests SUBMISSIONS ofARTWORK, PHOTOS, STORIES, POETRY, ETC.FOR UPCOMING ISSUES #110 SUMMER 2002 RAUNCHY FUDGEPACKING DUDES - Summer of Sleaze (and we don't just mean sex!)

SUBMIT!

Call for Submissions

#111 FALL 2002 - RIVER FAERIES DEBUT Contact Louis@PlanetIda.org for more info.

This issue will feature submissions from the Memphis faeries.

If your faerie group is interested in being featured in future issues, contact us at RFDmag.org.

The small print: Send submissions to submissions@RFDmag.org All artwork/photos should be black & white unless specifically intended for the magazine cover.

Complete digital submission details are available online at RFDmag.org.

37

The Lemon-Fresh Joy of Dishwashing

By Penny At large gatherings I often choose to contribute by turning mountains of cups and saucers, bowls and pots into sparkling stacks of dish ware ready for the next meal. I truly enjoy washing dishes.

By writing I hope to share this joy and to spread it whither it will.

A Box to Put a Present In So much of success in life hinges upon making room for it in one's life. If you’re looking for a lover, you'd better have a double bed. If it’s money you'd like, start with a big, fat wallet (and toss out that tiny coin purse!). If it’s dirty dishes you long to become magically squeaky clean, clear out the blasted drain board! Hven if you have no interest in getting your hands wet, an empty drain board wonderously emboldens otherwise reluctant pot scrubbers.

I cannot stress this enough. Step One in doing dishes is: Put away the clean dishes. First of all if you’re at home and you find there’s no room to put away the dishes, your cupboard is giving you a message. You have too many dishes; and if that leads you to not want to do the dishes, you are at serious risk of coming down with congestive pantry failure.

There will be no joy in doing dishes until you can make space for the plates and cups to dance.

There’s a second reason why Step One is Put away the clean dishes.

Dripping water all over clean, dry dishes is seriously sub-fabulous! It leaves streaks and marks, which pokes a big hole in my joy bubble.

There ought to be a third reason why Step One is Put away the clean dishes. but I just can’t think of one. Perhaps it’s time to attack this disorderly mound.

Out of C haos, Bliss Many folks are daunted, to the point of strong physical reactions, by the sight

of a meal’s worth of dishes. They see only havoc and hours of frustration. I see a fun Montessori puzzle waiting to be put together. The joy o f actually washing the dishes springs out of the Zen-like calm that comes from a repetitive mind-freeing task performed in (ideally) yummy, hot water. This state is impossible to achieve when the items are cleaned in a haphaz­ ard fashion. For that reason the second step is ordering the chaos.

A pile of flatware lounges in the shade of a bouquet of serving utensils. A congregation o f goblets and cups mills about beneath a tapering tower of bowls which perches atop a solid mountain of plates. Languishing at the rear of the line for the diving board are the pots and pans. What caused the skin to crawl just minutes ago now' pleases the eye like a fine Dutch masterpiece.

To Pre- or Not to Pre-?

I can hear the water running—or is that you I hear running up from the well with the water? In any case water is a precious liquid (the next best thing to air), and I am loath to splash it about heedlessly. I particularly like to conserve hot water, which comes to us at the cost of decreased air quality.

The order the dishes go into the drink will make a difference in how much w'ater gets wasted. You want to wash grungy things last, sparkly things first. If you muck up the water early on. you will needlessly have to change it halfway through. Also, endeavor to wash those things first which will touch the mouth (flatware and glasses) while the w'ater is still fresh.

My rule of thumb then is flatware, sharp knives (gingerly. Ginger Lee!), glasses, cups, bow ls, plates, serving uten­ sils. pots, pans and (always last) ashtrays.

If there is a lot of food stuck everyw'here, it's a good idea to start with a pre38

wash. The pre-wash is not so much for getting dishes clean as for keeping clean the wash water. Depending on how much space you have, the pre-wash will be a step unto itself, giving the dirtier dishes a second turn on the diving board. ("Booo!" “No Fair!" shout the wine glasses.) Or it will be the first station in the assembly line that sweeps from un- to -sanitary.

(Wine glasses will always be a class apart. If left in the drain board, they are apt to streak or even break. It’s best to towel dry them and get them directly into the cupboard.)

When Do We Get O ur First Shot of Jo y ?

It’s time to fill the sinks with wash and rinse water. Begin with clean sinks or buckets. Fill the wash basin with water as hot as you can stand it (ahhhhhh!) and add dish soap. If you’re quick, it'll still be warm when you get to the ashtrays. A word on soap: moderation. Too much soap will spoil the rinse water as quick as a wink. For this reason, add just enough soap to get some suds. As you pick up grease, the suds will break down; then it’s permissible to add more soap (usually just before the plates and again before the pots and pans).

The rinse water can be even hotter, since you only need to dip the dishes in to get the full effect. A truly hot rinse helps in a number of ways. It helps kill genus (a little) and. more importantly, hot water dries more quickly, giving genus little chance to grow. Generally, an air dried fork that has no food sticking to it will be clean enough for all but the frailest of humans.

When conditions dictate (questionable water quality, large numbers of strangers, unproved dish washers), some cultures opt for a final bleach bath. The same word on bleach as for soap. Add just

enough to make the water feel a mite slipper), not so much that it smells like an indoor pool This solution should be made with cool water so it evaporates slowly enough to kill an appreciable number of microbes (alas, at a cost to air and soil quality) If vou're using a bleach bath, the hot rinse becomes a rich, sensual luxury.

When you have mountains o f dishes and acres of space for the full assembly line, you will be able to conserv e water bv turning the soapy rinse water into wash water. The wash water becomes pre-wash and only the pre-wash gets dumped, replaced at the other end with fresh rinse water.

What’s this? Great Goddess! A glint­ ing. gleaming, gorgeous, sparkling spoon!

The A rt and the Joy With the first clean spoon comes the promise of altered states of consciousness that transport us to realms abutting para­ dise. The process, the product and the producer meld into a dancing spiral of

squeak) glass and reflective surfaces.

What's more, if there be two or more gathered to wash the dishes, there abides love.

While some go in for flower arrange­ ment. others wash up after supper. 1 derive great joy in creating a work of art in the arrangement of the dripping, drying dishes. This occurs naturally when I wash all the spoons before moving on to the forks and so forth. 1 derive unspeakable pleasure from the mounting assembly of twinkling silv er, steel and ceramic. The warm water, the sensation of food parti­ cles pulling away from eating surfaces, sheets of water ripping away from the surface of a plate as it gets stacked in a visually rhythmic array. Doing dishes is a hugely sensual affair.

It can be a rather social one. too.

Between the compost bucket and the dry­ ing rack lies an ideal opportunity to get to know someone. Side by side, nowhere to hide, hands occupied, what will you do but wax rhapsodic over the passions that fill your life? The moments fly by when

you fill them with music. (A songbook, propped upon the wall, can really help.)

If you are tackling mountains of dish­ es. you are probably not the one who cooked. You are most likely a specialist fulfilling an invaluable social task.

Chances are another specialist lingers nearby who neither cooked nor is doing dishes. It should take little prodding to get them to find their place in society right behind you, massaging your neck and lower back.

Troubadours cannot be far off. nor suitors offering peeled grapes.

My sister, in her cynical youth, would say. “It starts when you sink in his arms and ends with your arms in his sink."

Why squander this moment resenting the dishes as a chore to be borne? As the grease succumbs to soap, so too. do we succumb to nature’s call as social ani­ mals. Doing the dishes lifts us to our exulted place in the cosmos and happily opens the doors of ecstasy to any and all who knock.

FAIRY WINGS

by Richiee Sirota

To laugh To cry To dance around the fire To laugh some more To be naked under the sun To be naked under the clouds To be naked under the sky To be naked in front of the fire Unabashfully, with no shame!!!

Playing in the mud-pit, the creek, the lake To touch and be touched Skin touching skin Skin, mind, soul And to . . . yes, The ecstasy of merging Merging in the eternal, primal oneness of orgasm!

Shh, did you hear it?

That flutter That sound of soft, airy, wispy wings New wings a opening For the first time - again Special wings Oh so extraordinary wings For these are . . . Fairy wings Another fairy born To those outside its realm One day, to find its home Its true home, Its tribe!

Beckoned by the drumbeat Beckoned by the heartbeat Beckoned by that primal beat Resonating with that eternal primal beat Flying home, its true home!

Flapping those wings, those soft airy, wispy wings.

Your wings, my wings . . . OUR wings.

To play To cook To drum To feel To dance To sing To write bad poetry

And behind the masks, behind the costumes Behind the illusion of time and space In the timeless truth of the Universe This fairy, this “new” fairy born . . . . . . is us . . . is me . . . is you!!!

39

BOOKS

m u s t s e e k to b r i n g o r d e r to th e d i s o r d e r l y b u i l d i n g b eh av io r.

Men and women function generally in separate societies or castes. The castes for women are based on the ability to reproduce. Women who are sterile are human play toys called naderas— which we come to learn is a label resented by the women so defined.

The caste system also indicates to the reader that enlarging the population is highly valued; we come to learn that there are environm ental hazards which the population has chosen to ignore (in the same sense that our early expansionist empire builders did not change daily routines in the face of various climates: for example, 'mad dogs and Englishm en go out in the noonday sun' in tropical and desert settings). Women who choose same-sex lovers are accepted: "Loria and Ador bed only women, most often each other" (p. 160).

A male ejaculating in heterosexual intercourse is termed "giving the spark" throughout the story.

REVIEWS FROM OUR READERS

EXILE

By Michael P. Kube-M cD ow ell New York: Berkley Publishing Group, Ace paperback edition, 1993 Reviewed by Lawrence L. Shrout

Men can share their sparks with anyone they choose, although mating for procreation is valued, that is, sanctioned verbally with approval. M ales live in dorm itories until they father at least one child and move to a house if invited to do so by the mother of the child. The men have evening runs through the city to display them selves to the women. When a man asks another man to run with him it may indicate male same-sex attraction: "We were not lovers, though such pairings are said to increase the vigor of a lin e" (p. 57).

T

he idea behind the storyline of the book is revealed in the last five pages. Until then the book is hard to follow by a reader who w ishes clarity in a scifi adventure story.

One of the cover blurbs called it a variation on a clas­ sic science fiction theme (marooned or a lost colony?).

On a planet active with seism ic activity lives a matri-local culture walled into circles m entally and physically. Their city occupies a sm all area of the planet; the housing is built within circular walls and within are circles of circles, interconnected by spoke roads. The earthquake warning system is the social and religious center of the city: a set of thirteen bells suspended from a high saddle arch so that the earth tremors activate ringing by physical vibration from the earth through the arch; the more bells that ring the stronger the quake. Each bell has a name (the rele­ vance and m eaning of the names, if any, escaped your reviewer) and the names are given to thirteen of the story's nineteen chapters (any relevance of bell name and the content of the chapter, if any, also were not clear to me).

The circle city is led by a benevolent dictator (curi­ ously, a male) who k ills or exiles dissidents and non­ conform ists. The exiles who survive being cast out have formed a more relaxed and sm aller village far from the city: out of sight and out of mind, most resi­ dents of the city are unaware of it. The sexual mores are the same as the city, perhaps more relaxed since there are fewer women to share among the males.

As the story progresses one learns that to "believe a myth is as easy a thing as breathing the air. But holding one's breath for a lifetim e— that is d ifficu lt" (p. 292). Yes, there is som ething amiss. Life based on a circle has no linearity, that is, it does not m aintain a sense of its history. The two main characters are male, Kedar and Meer. Their friendship, broken for years, becomes the basis for discovering the culture's past.

The renewed friendship occurs as one, in failing health, passes the torch of remembrance to the other, and in the process challenges the city's leader.

Som e of the chapters have titles that are not bell names. It is revealed slow ly that these chapters are personal diary com m ents of one of the main charac­ ters. An untitled map near the title page may have assisted in clarifying the story— if one were a cartogra­ pher.

Housing is constructed and decorated by nats, and through most of the story it is not clear whether these small workers are com m unity insects or some sort of miniaturized robot (nano-robot or nanobot?).

Som etim es these tiny builders 'w ild' and a human

Your reviewer enjoys science fiction because it usu­ ally extrapolates our society into the future and com­ ments on contemporary issues in a future setting; it constructs societies in which I can lose m yself; thirdly, I review the story as a logic puzzle or maze 40

finished with that and the two overviews of the histo­ ry of the neighborhood that start off the book, 1 was hooked. Harvey Milk - the "mayor of Castro Street" figures prominently in the section on the 1970s, and there are many moving stories told by people who knew and worked with him.

and ask myself, where did the logic collapse or become thin? For me, one issue was how could a city survive a semiarid, irrigated system where almost nobody farms or grows food and so many have leisure? The story should have accounted for this (of course, we also learn little about personal hygiene, as with most literature, but 1 could accept that).

Because the Castro's stories are told here by a vari­ ety of voices, I was pleased to find that these essays don't white-wash the truth. Instead, these honest first-hand accounts echoed various problems I've heard about from friends - for example, how AIDS cast a long shadow over the neighborhood through much of the 1980s and 90s, how property-owning gays in the Castro have fought shelters for homeless gay youth in the neighborhood, and how re-gentrification is changing the character of this now-desirable urban enclave.

Out in the Castro: Desire, Promise, Activism edited by Winston Leyland Leyland Publications, 2002, Reviewed by EDGE

Through challenges, conflicts and tensions, as well as through playfulness, achievements and celebration - all chronicled by a diverse group of participants Out in the Castro brings home to its readers the full spectrum of the dimensions and complexities of the historical development, quirks, queemess, and contin­ uing change that have come to define the living neigh­ borhood of the Castro, whose desires, promise, and activism both mirror and help to shape gay life across the country. -

've long nurtured a fantasy about living in an urban village - a city neighborhood with a feel­ ing of closeness and community that mirrors the small town where 1 grew up. Unfortunately, Boston's South End - where I lived for many years never measured up to that fantasy; too much attitude, insecurity, and uptightness among the gay men there created a neighborhood whose lifestyle seemed to take its cue more from the area's formal Victorian architecture than from any egalitarian ideals of the gay liberation movement.

I

Books now available for review.

But reading Out in the Castro, I began to think that perhaps my fantasy has been in the making all this time in San Francisco. Out in the Castro describes the transformation of one small neighborhood in San Francisco from the Eureka Valley - a blue-collar IrishCatholic and Scandinavian neighborhood by World War II that became run-down with the "white flight" of the post-war years - into Castro Village, arguably the premiere GLBT neighborhood in the country.

FICTIO N See Dick D econstruct by Ian Philips Kosher M eat by Lawrence Schem el The S /M Ranch by Luc Miline Hercules in Love by Davis Drolet Boy on a Pony by Geizeg Abagnalo

The story of the development of the Castro is also the story of the transformation of gay life in this coun­ try in the post-war years. And the essays in Out in the Castro tell these parallel stories in a most engaging way - through the words and stories of the partici­ pants. Although I was initially put off by the cover with its rainbow flag, pink triangle, lavender and pink graphics, and busy photos, it seemed almost too tritely gay-pride oriented - I quickly fell in love with this wide-ranging collection of personal essays, poet­ ry, photographs, artwork, and cartoons.

N O N -FICTIO N The Sorcerer's Apprentice— Picasso, Provence and Douglas Cooper by John Richardson The Hindu Temple— Deification of Eroticism by Alan Danielou C hakras— energy centers of transform ation-!

by Harish Johary

I started off reading our own Sister Mish's delight­ ful retelling of the creation and first years of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, and by the time I was

Beauty Feng Shui by Chao-1 Isiu-Chen 41

Prison

Pages unbarred and open window faces her. Sitting at my desk I can hear her calling to me this very m om ent. I can hardly deny her. S e a n ’s on “room confinem ent” for a minor prison infraction, so I’ll go outside in sweatshirt and shorts, enjoy the sound of the breeze in her branches and the fall color in the 50-yards-distant Kettle M oraine State Forest.

It’s October 14th and since our first hard frost on the 7th, the trees have turned quickly and are just past their prime.

M aybe the local deer will bless m e with their presence as well. Just last night an 8-point buck w andered out of the drizzly gloom and snuffed his nose, perhaps seeking the scent of a doe, which is as it should be. The Circle of Life.

Speaking of scent, Daisy-m y nam e for her-our res­ ident neurotic skunk (neurotic because she paces the perim eter fence seeking a way into this prison) often w an­ ders past the M agick Tree seeking treats of bread left under my window. She usually leaves no scent at all, only a sense of aw e as she snatches a stale roll in her mouth (or her favorite, saltine crackers) and heads over the rise (a m anm ade m oraine) in her unique waddling gait.

Oh, if the M agick Tree could only talk, the tales she’d tell.

Curious as to her genus, I asked S ean who attends vocational welding in the morning and works in the prison library in the afternoon, to pick up a couple of tree identification books. I’d guessed she w as a Balsam or Douglas fir. T h e small G olden book titled T R E E S con­ firm ed that she’s a Douglas fir. She, like S ean and me, is a long way from hom e, but her prolific and unusual cones gave her away. I then knew she was no true fir at all-Mr. David Douglas, 19th century Scottish botanist, m isnam ed her and her kin-but m ore closely related to hemlock. No m atter what her true genus, we love her. You can ’t but help love a runt, w hether pig, puppy, or Douglas fir.

Douglas fir com m only reach 100-feet. On the Pacific Coast these giants can exceed 200-feet. The M agick Tree is a m ere 25-feet and unlikely to reach thirty unless the pesky crows who often steal D aisy’s bread locate a new and improved roost. T h e y ’ve already broken off her term inal shoot (w here the Yule tre e ’s angel’s butt gets poked) at least twice. And the well m eaning but idiot­ ic yard crew has pruned branches up nearly half her length. S h e ’d look fine-if w e ever get 8-feet of snow!

As I contem plate nature, my navel, and enjoy som e m id-O ctober rays on my bare legs, I can ’t help but recall what S ean once told m e under this tree. At seven­ teen, a hom eless young m an on the streets of M inneapolis, deep into the drug scene, a m an befriended him, took him in. A few days later he offered a drunk S ean a blow-job. Few horny and intoxicated seventeen-

C a llin g AH Q u e e r P ris o n e rs ! P ris o n P a g e s w a n ts y o u r S u b m is s io n s . S e n d y o u r a rtw o rk , e s s a y s , p o e try , s h o rt fic ­ tio n o r in q u irie s to “ P ris o n P a g e s ” at th e R F D a d d re s s . S h a re y o u r e x p e ri­ e n c e s , id e a s , d re a m s , a n d /o r fa n ta s ie s w ith R F D re a d e rs . (J u s t try to d o it in 1 0 0 0 w o rd s o r le s s .) A ls o , be e x p lic it if you h a v e s p e c ia l re q u e s ts re g a rd in g e d its .

T h e M agick Tree

by M ichael G rindem ann “If I was a girl I’d be pretty,” S ean said, a bit of cam piness in his voice, his eyes sparkling.

“Hell," I thought to myself, “you m ake a really hot looking guy!” Keep in mind that I’ve seen S ean in all his glory-and gloriously w ell-endow ed he is!-in the prison shower. Six-one, one-eighty, short-short blond hair, bluegreen-grey color-changing eyes, a dimpled flashing smile, a m ule-braying unselfconscious laugh, just a beautiful twenty-one year-old m an with a dark, painful past. But, in prison, that isn’t at all unusual. Just sad.

W hat is unusual is w here the conversation was held, under the M agick Tree. W hat? Trees inside a prison? Yeah, and grass too, at Kettle M oraine (think gla­ cial holes and tailings), just below Lake W innebago in east-central W isconsin. At one tim e KM was a boy’s school for juvenile delinquents; now it’s an adult school for adult delinquents, with most of the 1 ,170 m en in their twenties. So far, KM has escaped the “m axim um securityizing" of W isconsin’s various m edium security prisons (most of the m edium s are as secure as the m axim um s) mostly because it would be too expensive to put bars on the cottage/housing unit windows, and yes, then the trees inside the perim eter fence would have to go.

The M agick Tree is w here S ean, an infant Pagan, and I, a baby Pagan, hang out, w eather permitting. Sean and I recline against her rough trunk, read our books on Celtic M agic and G oddess W orship and feel comforted.

In turn, I hope she feels com forted too. I started this essay while sitting under her. It seem ed appropriate. My 42

you're the only one w earing sequins? Tired of gay haunts w here prisons are a fetish subject, not a rotten institution in need of a good fight? G et involved with the P P W C and help start a queer chapter. To find out m ore about P P W C and the Q u e e r Chapter, write M at Defiler at m atdefiler@ altavista.com < m ailto:m atdefiler@ altavista.com > or P.O. Box 6 / Liberty T N 3 70 9 5.

For general information about the P P W C you can also contact the P P W C info center at P.O. Box 5 54 Lincoln M a 0 1 7 7 3 USA.

year-olds would refuse. S ean dropped his pants.

Afterward, the would-be friend raped S ean at knifepoint.

W hy S ean, a straight (or possibly situationally bisex­ ual young m an. AKA: horndog) would tell m e. a gay man 20-years his senior, is beyond me. perhaps a test to determ ine if I'd reject him. I told him instead that I'd give him a hug if I could. And I will before we part, before I go hom e, soon. I’ll do it under the M agick Tree.

I’ll give her a hug too while I'm at it. I have som e of her seeds - boy, are they a job to rem ove from that bristly, small cone - so Mr. Douglas’s m isnam ed tree shall live on in my yard. I hope S ean and I can m eet under the Magick Tree's daughter, cast a Circle again, call the Lord and Lady and thank them for bringing us together, as inmates, Pagans, and friends, if not lovers.

S ean, m ay the Lord and Lady bless you.

Brothers Behind Bars If you haven’t heard, yes we are still doing BBB, but instead of printing the pen-pal ads here, we print them in a supplem ent available to all R F D readers (and oth­ ers) for free and by written request. Requests for the pen-pal list are already coming in, and we encourage you all to keep them coming. W riting prisoners is a way to offer support to prisoners. To get your F R E E list, all you have to do is drop us a line. Address your request Brothers Behind Bars at the R F D address.

IN M A TES m ay submit their ad, 3 0 words or less, also addressed to BBB. As always, Special Prisoner Subscription Rate $10 per year

M ichael G rindem ann has b een in Prison 16.5 years, won a sentence modification a y e a r ago (the state appealed) a n d expects to be released when the state loses its a p p e al in a m onth or two.

Political Prisoners of War Coalition The P P W C , or Political Prisoners of W ar Coalition, is an organization started by a political prisoner nam ed Ali Khalid Abdullah. The P P W C begins with supporting prisoners and challenging the prison industrial complex, but it w on’t stop at anything less than a world trans­ formed for the better. To give an exam ple of its philoso­ phy, here are a few excerpts from “P P W C S tatem ent”:

R F D PO BOX 68 Liberty TN 3 7 0 9 5

*P P W C believes in the right of hum an beings to live free from all forms of oppression. *PP W C believes in people having the autonom y to gov­ ern their lives, as long as they don’t’ hurt or harm oth­ ers. *P P W C believes in the total elim ination of racism, classism, sexism, hom ophobia, class distinctions and labor exploitation.

PPWC Queer Chapter There is interest in the formation of a queer chapter of P P W C . Tired of m usty activist m eetings w here

Here’s a taste of this issue’s listings J e rry K e e n e # 7 5 3 8 8 4 P O B o x 221 R aiford, F L 3 2 0 8 3 W M , 25, w e ll-tra v e le d . L ik e s h u n tin g , fis h in g . N e e d s frie n d s .

K e n d a ll Y aw n # E L -1 4 9 2 7 6 (E -2 ) 2 0 0 G e o rg ia H ig h w a y 147 R e id s v ille , G A 3 0 4 9 9 S o u th e rn G e n tle m a n , 38 , n ic e ta n , w a n ts o ld e r frie n d .

43

F ra n k G ra v is s # 1 3 9 0 5 9 (1 1-R -7) P O Box 5128 E d d y v ille , K Y 4 2 0 3 8 -5 1 2 8 Y oung, s tro n g , lo v e a b le , o u t s o o n , s e e k s p a rtn e r

Faerie Connections

F ra n c e : P a ris F a e rie s

M A V E R IC K S

c/o Efthimios Kalos 7 Rue Payenne 75003 Paris. France Tel: 33-1-40-27-02-95 efthimios@aol.com

P.O. Box 9543 Same Fe. NM 87504 Mvrks@ aol.com

G a n o w u n g o S a n c tu a r y

c/o Jay Stratton 121 Union St. Westfield, NY 14787

a .k .a . A m b e r Fox

D u tc h C irc le

G e r m a n F a e rie s

A Radical Faerie Enclave Box 65, McDonald’s Comers Ontario, Canada KOGI MO 613-278-2744 www.gear,torque ,nct/~bi ll/aaf/

c/o John Ferguson Graaf Rorisweg 22 2805AL, Gouda. Netherlands americanvoices@wxs.nl

c/o Wendelin Kuepers "Merlin" Wendelin.Kuepers@ unisg .eh

A tla n ta F a e rie C irc le

770-446-9946 snakcowl<& bigfoot .com ♦♦NEEDS NEW CONTACT***

A u s tin A re a F a e rie s

P.O. Box 80618 Austin, TX 78708-0618 info line: 512-837-1596 www.realtime.net/~la7.arus

A u s tra lia

James. Ian. Les P.O. Box 495, Nimbin NSW 2480 Australia ozfaeries@yah<x>.com

BM ECC, London WCIN 3XX. UK Tel:( UK (08703-215121 www. odw;nbi]xi«acr»nntaiityrjguk

G e rm a n y : R h e in g o ld F a e rie s - B onn

moonfaerie @ gay.com

H o ly F a e rie D a ta b a s e

El E n c a n to

CA and Wolf Creek Events P.O. Box 426732 SF, CA 94142 H o m o d o k -L e s b ia n A rc h iv e s A m s te rd a m

Nieuwpoortkade 2a NL-1055 RX Amsterdam www.homodok-laa.nl

Eugene-Springfield Faeries

H o u s to n F a e rie C irc le

A u s tra lia n F a e rie s

581-683-5084

Now House

E u ro -F a e rie s

79 Prior St. Tarragindi Queensland 4121 Australia

www'.eurofaerie .org E u ro p e -N /E -B a ltic C irc le

ID A -Q u e e r A r tis t C o m m u n ity

B la c k L e a th e r W in g s

c/o Viking Diva P.O. Box 3698 10501 Tallin Estonia al rom4al l@ hotmai 1.com

P.O. Box 874 Smithville. TN 37166 615-597-4409 www.planetida.com

1226 25th Ave. SF, CA 94122 415-584-1954 www.blackleatherwings.org B lu e H e ro n F a rm

68 Streeter Rd. Dekalb, NY 13630 315-347-2178

P.O. Box 531 Winooski. VT 05404-0531 802-295-7105 www.faeriecampdestiny.org

B o s to n F a e rie C o n ta c ts

F a e rie E -m a il L is t

Fuku: 617-522-6466 shutt@ tas.harvard.edu

www.radfae .org/faerie list

C h ic a g o F a e rie C irc le

P.O. Box 607282(Kale) Chicago. IL 60660-7282 I AI -vents: 773-cash mere www.gcoc ities .com/ laeriechicago C ro w n C ity F a e rie s

146 S Main St #3 Cortland, NY 13045 607-745-2577 D .C . F a e rie s

K a w a s h a w a y S a n c tu a r y

Faeries of th.e Sun San Diego, CA 619-226-8161 or 685-7626

wwwcskimoxx)m/~davidk/faeries/ 206-935-7762 F ey D irt P o r tla n d , OR

D e n v e r F a e rie T rib e

F ra n c e : L e s F e e s d e M o n tp e llie r

N /W F a e rie D a ta b a s e

O klahom a Radical Faeries

P.O. Box 32321 Oklahoma City. OK 73123 405-722-8985 P h ila d e lp h ia F a e rie s

bartlett@critpath .org http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ philly faeries

M a d is o n R a d ic a l F a e rie C irc le

7212-1/2 Meade St. Pittsburgh. PA 15208 412-241-8606 jrbishop@bellatlantic.net

Faerie-friendly panthiest her­ mitage.

RD1 Box 149 Pitman. PA 17964 44

N/E F a e rie E m a il N e tw o rk

L os A n g e le s F a e rie s

M a h a n to n g o S p irit G ad en

c/o Pierre Va/.quez 38 rue de lOaiguillerie 34000 Montpellier France Tel: 33-04-67-60-89-30

N om enus

P.O. Box 170358 SF, CA 94117 To visit Sanctuary: P.O. Box 312 Wolf Creek. OR 97497 541-866-2678 www.nomenus .org

Shiva Tapioca, aka Sister Unity Divine L.A., CA, Earth Ekata@aol.com

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Fac Dirt 503-235-0826-recording Elderberry' & Swamp Lily 5120 SE 87th Ave. Portland. OR 97266-3808 retro@intemetcds.com

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THANK YO U !

To everyone who has written/emailed with updates to the list. We appreciate your help in keeping the networking tool current.

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See Nomenus

S h o rt M tn Y o g a V II T h u rs d a y e v e , M ay 3 0 th ro u g h S u n d a y , J u n e 2

T h e N o rth w o o d s R a d ic a l F a e rie s P re s e n t T h e G a th e rin g A u g u s t 2 -1 1 ,2 0 0 2 a t K a w a s h a w a y S a n c tu a ry a m o n g th e lo fty p in e s a n d fra g ra n t c e d a rs of n o rth e rn M in n e s o ta . A u c tio n , N o T a le n t S h o w , P o e t’s C o rn e r, D ru m m in g W o rk s h o p , & m o re !

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G a th e rin g a t K a w a sh a w a y, Tw o B e a rs FFI C o n ta c t: Tw o B e a rs 6 1 2 -8 7 4 -7 7 7 5 a fte r 7 p m , C D T e -m a il: tw o b e a rs rf@ h o tm a il.c o m

Lifelong yogis, curious novices, and all inbetween: Join us as we practice intensively and teach each other from an eclectic variety of yoga traditions and beyond. Space Lim ited.

Pre-register please. Call SM S at (615) 5634397 or e m a il: ja is h e ro n d a @ h o tm a il.c o m

The E uroFa e rie s A nnounce: B ack to B a s ics - T h e Q u in te s s e n c e T e rs c h e llin g T h e N e th e rla n d s fro m 8 till 19 July 2 0 02 Th e R a d ica l F a eries a re a Q u e e r S p iritu a l m o ve m e n t th a t e m e rg e d at e nd of the 7 0 ’s in the S tate s, b u b b le d a c ro s s th e A tla n tic 8 yea rs ago. T h e E u ro F a e rie s s p ro u te d fro m it fre sh a n d new. F in d in g a nd c re a tin g o u r ow n identity, w e have now fu lfille d a c ycle of 7 yea rs. T h e 8th g a th e rin g c u m m in ’ up th is s u m m e r is th e re fo re b a p tis e d “ B a c k 2 B a s ic s th e Q u in te s s e n c e ". A g a th e rin g to fo c u s on o u r d e e p e s t e ss e n tia ls , a g a th e rin g to re call w h a t w e w a n t to be as fae rie s, to m e rg e new d re a m s , to set o ft n ew spa rks, m o re in n e r b e a u ty a n d o u te r e xtra v a g a n z a . A g a th e rin g a ls o to evo ke a lot of e n e rg y to let the m a g ic go on. W e nee d g irls to ta k e o ve r th e w a n d . T h is a w a re n e s s has c o m e up o ve r the last yea rs. T h is year, w e w a n t to m a ke it e asier, a n d m o re v is i­ ble fo r a n y o n e w h o w a n ts to m a ke n ew th in g s h a p p e n , w h a t it ta k e s to let the m a g ic g o on. O n e c a n n o t o rg a n is e m a g ic but it d oe s s e e m p o s s ib le to in vite it, m a ke it fee l n a tu ra lly w e lc o m e . L e ts fin d o ut h ow to invite it! S o m e of o u r A m e ric a n a n c e s to rs w ill be re p re s e n te d to fin d th e w ay to o u r ro ots as w ell. A g a th e rin g o p e n to a ny Q u e e r b e in g , w h a te v e r sex. g e n d e r o r sexuality, in te re s te d in e xp lo rin g , c e le b ra tin g a n d s h a rin g his o r h er m o tiva tio n .

DeeTour v/d H oopstraat 119 -3 , 1051 VE A m sterdam , the N etherlands +31 (0)20 4860377 DeeTour@ eurofaerie.org w w w .eurofaerie.org 45

CONTACT LETTERS Santa Cruz Mountains Have you ever fantasized about living on a beautiful California tree farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains, 40 miles south of San Francisco?

These private serene 325 acres at the end of a dead end road are five miles in from the Pacific Ocean and 1000' altitude - thus a sun drenched micro-climate out of the fog - a per­ fect place for the naturist life style.

This former cattle ranch of brush, meadows, woods and creeks is being transformed into a forest of redwoods and douglas fir. Some companions would be welcome to share in the pleasures and labors of stewardship.

Your host is a Nordic blond blue­ eyed 6'3" naturist, environmentalist, philosopher, retired solar energy engineer, world traveler, art collec­ tor, lover of symphony, theater, dance, opera, museums and gal­ leries.

Fringe benefits include a solar heated hot tub and swimming pool and wood fired sauna in total priva­ cy.

Come and join in this project to make our infinitesimal contribution to mitigating global warming by generating new oxygen molecules and trapping carbon dioxide in cel­ lulose.

Reveal yourself and explore the potential!

Ed 1larold Edward Segelstad 16250 Skyline Boulevard Woodside, CA 94062-4728

missive, masochistic men of an equal slant to be my opposite num­ ber. I have no ethnic preferences, but, please no brothers behind bars (very sorry!).

Ideally 1 like men between 28 and 68 years of age who would like to satisfy my dominant, sometimes sadistic urges. But I also like cud­ dles, hugs and wet kisses a lot!

I come to the USA at irregular intervals - next time in April 2002: AZ, UT, CO, IL, CANADA, NY, DC. 1prefer men with cultural interests and hobbies; real artists would be a big bonus! For right person can offer 24/7/365! But I like also to host over here, if you give me advance notice.

I live in a medium-sized Northern German town with its own Opera House, Concert Hall & Philharmonic Orchestra and a big university. For hobbies I like: read­ ing avant-garde poetry, good Science Fiction, and collecting inter­ national Railway Timetables. If you are interested in meeting me send your letter with facial picture to: Master.Wolf-Bear@gmx.de.

J. Wolfgang FI. Ridder, MA; Fachbereichsleiter Sprachen VHS Bielefeld; 1ATEFL Global Issues SIG Coordinator; TESOL; DPG Bielefeld e.V. Beethovenstr. 5, D-33604 Bielefeld / GERMANY Tel. +49(0)521/5212440; Fax +49(0)521/66209 E-mail: jwh.ridder@t-online.de

Silver Daddy/Bear

Down to Earth

56yo, 67”, 235lbs, full salt & pep­ per beard, non-dinker/-smoker, veg­ etarian, academically trained with MA in Oriental Studies and Languages, is looking for very sub­

A passive gay guy, 24 y/o, dis­ ease and drug free, healthy GSOH, humble, genuine, down-to-earth, reliable, tolerant, faithful and romantic, is looking for long-term, 46

loving relationship to dominate me and my asshole. I am non-scene, like cock sucking, oral and anal sex, licking, masturbating myself and many more. Are you ready for accommodating fabulous sex and meeting me? Write with your photo, phone number, return address and brief letter to guarantee and explore possibilities of meeting.

Benjamin Ofori Box 615 Syi, BA/R GHANA, W/AFRICA

Bodybuilder Attractive bodybuilder, 6'2", 190, world traveled, Aquarian intellectu­ al 45 lives in Reno, seeking very spe­ cial non-smoking, long-haired, hair­ less male who dislikes big cities but wants to live about a mile from the biggest little city in the world. No need to work. People with disabili­ ties will be considered.

You should be between 30 and 40 and very attractive. You must be a super feminine looking male who is marriage minded. I have a bedroom for you and you will be responsible to take care of the apartment. I need someone who is androgynous but in the privacy of the home will dress in garter belts and lingerie, ala Marilyn Monroe. Long hair and being thin as well as being a non-smoker, bright and a non-drinker are crucial.

I am on a national search. The per­ son would be taken care of finan­ cially, so relocation is a must.

You must feel like a girl inside and be super feminine. I want no crazy drag queens or someone who is trying to get the transsexual sur­ gery* You should have no sexual

diseases. Being computer literate would be helpful since 1am in the dark ages. Please write with photo to: N. Wilson 2790 Wrondel Way PMB#444 Reno, Nevada 89502

Austin, Texas Hello gentlefolk! I am a retired professor looking for friends and perhaps a young companion. 1 enjoy travel, reading, woodworking, video and especially nude work and play. 1 find that I am more romantic than I originally thought and value quiet moments, long hikes...and to cuddle and kiss. I have a massage table and love to give and receive full body massage.

I would enjoy investing in a young man. I can provide a home, access to a trade or university edu­ cation and we could have a full and fun life in the process. Contact me if interested.

I enjoy working on projects with others, especially the use of the Internet to help folk become self-suf­ ficient and broaden their horizons.

But I can also work with my hands and will trade B&B for either intel­ lectual or physical work. Can work on a team or be a manager. I enjoy guests so consider spending a few days in Austin. If you w'ould like a visitor who is not afraid to help out, drop me a line. My pic and back­ ground can be seen at http://dean.pridepage.net. Or email is nudeandnice@yahoo.com.

Hope to hear from you.

Naked hugs, De

Hello Brothers, GWM, age 49, southwest Virginia area. Very sincere, honest, discreet and caring person. Various interests. Would welcome any responses.

E of Southwest Virginia c/o RFD 109

Dad looking for son or just a friend. GWM 42, dirtv blond blue eyes, 5'8". 180, H1V-, n cut, very versatile. Searching for young men 18-3n, race unimportant!

Please non-smokers, alcohol to a limit. Maybe LTR possible. Mv email: WantToJac@aol.com.

Or please send me your pic, phone# to: Andreas G. 1168 Judge-Sekul-Avenue, PMB 69, Biloxi Beach, Mississippi 39530-2830

Someone to Share I am 5'8", 160 lbs, light brown hair and blue eyes. 1am in good health and 49 years of age. 1would like to meet someone to share it all with. I will always be real and hon­ est with the person I meet.

Thanks, I hope to hear from some­ one soon.

Michael A. Taylor 1814 Versaille Road, Apt. A-6 Lexington, Kentucky 40504

Blacksmithing Apprenticeship Offered Greetings from Red Mill Forge, Adam R. Howard, Blacksmith Having so long been the benefici­ ary of the time and talent of others, I feel it's finally time to return the favor!

I am offering a long term appren­ ticeship in blacksmithing/metal arts, to a sincere and dedicated indi­ vidual interested in working with one of the region's noted craftsmen.

The shop, situated along the Raritan River in picturesque Hunterdon County, New Jersey; is an integral feature of the Red Mill Museum Village. A historic site dat­ ing fom 1740. Our beautiful land­ mark Red Mill and Falls is one of the most photographed sites in the eastern United States.

47

Any experience in blacksmithing or historic interpretation is a plus, but not required. What is required is a passion for learning, a dedica­ tion to the highest standards of quality', and a great sense of humor!

We work hard, but take time to play softly too.

Shared housing is available, and based on experience and mutual needs, everything else is negotiable.

Candidates should compose a detailed letter of interest, and include any materials you feel rele­ vant to your experience and aspira­ tions. STRIKE WHILE Till IRON IS HOT!.... And Peace and Joy to you all.

Please send to: Adam R. Howard, Blacksmith Red Mill Museum Village 56 Main Street Clinton, N.J. 08809

Long-Term Loving Relationship A passive gay guy, disease and drug free, respectful, decent, hum­ ble, genuine, easy-going, reliable, tolerent, friendly, hardworking, faithful and romantic is seeking mature, caring, relationship to dom­ inate me.

I am non-scene and like cock sucking, anal and oral sex, kissing, masturbtion, licking, sink bathing, tender caresses and much more. Are you ready for accomodating and meeting? Fabulous sex and mutual visits assured in the year 2002. So write with photofmine in return).

Phone # and brief ketter guarantee a quick reply.

Eric Boakye Siam P O Box 2382 Syi, BA/R GHANA, W/AFRICA ** W e regret to inform you that the contact letter from Joe W addle is m isrepresenting. He is, in fact, a prisoner. Sorry for the inconvenience

Continued from page 27 gay conference envisioning a "sort of counterculture gay N a tio n a l G e o g r a p h ic written by the men who read it. Talking to Steve McLave, Stewart was advised to write two men living in Wolf Creek, Oregon: Carl Wittman, a longtime activist and author of the "Gay Manifesto," and his lover, Allan Troxler, a graphic artist from North Carolina.

Stewart heard back quickly from the pair. They were excited "to discover another island of thought about a rural gay men's publication." Stewart and Don traveled to Oregon that July, and the foursome talked "for days" about how to network rural gay folks. Ideas ranged from a mimeographed newslet­ ter to a chain letter. Carl, remembers Don, "w as the first of us to start talking about how' politics w'as truly about cre­ ating culture versus subverting culture."

Don and Kick connected with the Iowa City Women's Press collective. The press agreed to print the "newsletter" in an offset magazine format at a reduced rate. The men chose the sol­ stices and equinoxes as publishing dates, and borrowed the title from the U.S. Postal Service acronym "Rural Free Delivery."

R I D , echoing the need for rural outreach, premiered as "Rustic Fairy Dreams" just in time for the autumnal 1974 equinox. The first cover of the twenty-four-page magazine, designed by Troxler, was filled with golden sunflowers and wheat stalks.

Subsequent issues followed, like "Really Feeling Divine" with a front cover of a flock of birds and stapled on the back cover a package of "pansy seeds, the flowers of faggots . . . tougher than most people realize."

These early quarterly issues empha­ sized the use of herbalism and organic gardening, natural food recipes and Chinese medicines, and explored build­ ing domes, outhouses, and the uses of " s h it." Each issue also included poetry, photography, and fiction, reader letters, contact lists and prisoner correspon­ dence. Underlying the magazine was the belief that gays are a "special peo­ ple" with their own culture and unique spiritual gifts.

"All of us recognized that queerness was a type of spiritual gift," Don emphasizes. In those early years, how­ ever, "we didn't know anything about contemporary wiccan stuff since we

were all very' political; spirituality and politics were never mixed." Thus, early issues conveyed little sense of this preChristian queer spirituality: "w e didn't know how to write about it or what to do writh it."

As a "nomadic child," R F D had "its own self-generating energy." Rural fag­ gots like Faygele ben Miriam, living at the Flwah Collective - a gay rural collec­ tive on Washington's Olympic Peninsula - and one-time GLF leader Allen Young, now living at Butterworth Farm in Massachusetts, each assembled an early issue. The Iowa and Wolf Creek collec­ tives oversaw the overall production.

S<x>n R F D expanded to forty-eight pages w'ith a press run of two thousand.

As the magazine grew, however, so did problems. "A lot of us who were in the early R F D were all people who had broader concerns than our regions," Don says. "But regionalism did reemerge,"

Wolf Creek. Like Short Mountain, this was also an area with different collective households, ranging from Allan and Carl, who lived in Golden, which had a truck and chainsaw- as well as electricity, to folks like Landon and Sean from Lilac Ridge, w-hich had neither electricity nor hot water. Nine miles away was Creekland. R F D remained at the Creekland Collective until that group collapsed two years later. Following one issue published in San Francisco, R F D relocated to the South.

Meanw-hile, cold weather approached and Milo wras alone on Short Mountain.

"My personal life was at a low ebb."

Staring into the fire one night, he took pencil and paper in hand. "Flying South for the Winter?" he wrote to R F D read­ ers. "Solitary faggot needs winter guests. The other (non-gay) members of our group have left me with the goats and cow, on a beautiful middleTennessee mountain. Come and visit if you're passin' thru.

as the distance between Oregon and Iowa widened. He continues: "We set ourselves up for conflict. We didn't talk to each other face-to-face, so we'd write a letter and there would be some little misunderstanding and in the letter it would seem more extreme than it actu­ ally was." Put simply, the Wolf Creek folks "felt left out of the day-to-day life of the magazine and of the decisions."

However, there were genuine differ­ ences in philosophy that personal inter­ action could not resolve. The Oregon people, who had largely come from West Coast cities, were into "political correctness issues," remembers Don. "For us it was more important that the garden was planted than if it was correct to buy seeds from a local person or not."

Relations between R F D and the femi­ nist press also became strained. And, by the time the fifth issue was published ("Raving Flames Diary"), Scofield had tired of collective heterosexual country life and the pressures of publishing. On a June evening, he went out to the organic garden to pick some broccoli, as it was his turn to cook. "But I didn't know where it was planted. 1 stood in the garden and cried and sobbed to myself." He departed Iowa and read the next issue of R F D at a friend's home in South Carolina.

In 1976, the R F D office moved to

48

Author photo: Robert Giard

A ll o f us recognized that qu eerness was a type Of spiritual gift. --D o n E n g s tr o m

James T. Sears is th e a w a rd -w in n in g author or editor of twelve books, among them Growing Up Gay in the South and Lonely Hunters. He is currently a visitin g professor at Harvard U niversity. Rebels, Rubyfruit, and Rhinestones is the second of a projected m ultivolum e work on queer southern life.

"From Rebels, Rubyfruit, and Rhinestones: Q ueering Space in the Stonew all South by Jam es T. Sears, copyright © 2001 by Jam es T. Sears. Reprinted by perm ission of Rutgers U niversity Press. C opies are available for purchase in local bookstores, by phone - 1 (81X3) 446-9323, and through the publisher's online bookstore http: / / rutgerspress.rutgers.edu

N e w f r o m t h e a w a r d - w i n n i n g a u t h o r o f L o n e ly

H u n te rs a n d G ro w in g Up G a y in th e S o uth

REBELS. RUBYFRUIT AND RHINESTONES Q u e e r i n g S p a c e in t h e S t o n e w a l l S o u t h J A M E S T. SE ARS "In this chatty, free-ran g in g cultural survey, S ea rs p resents a vivid kaleidoscope of the m ores and political activities of m an y gay S outh ern ers following the 1 9 6 9 S tonew all riots and leading up to the 1 9 7 9 m arch on W ashin gto n. S ea rs unspools this history through portraits of activists and com m unity o rg a n ize rs — including M erril M ushroom , Jack N ichols, Lige C lark, Vicki G abriner, M innie B ruce Pratt and Sgt. Leonard M atlo vitch

A panop ly of em otionally riveting snapsho ts that aptly portray S outhern

g ay exp e rie n c e in th e 1 9 7 0 s .”—

Publishers Weekly

’’S ea rs is rapidly carving out a niche as one of the p reem inen t scholars on Southern gay cu ltu re ____ Rebels,

Rubyfruit, and Rhinestones. . . will Boston Globe

end up on m any a

booksh elf— and not only in th e S outh."—

"W e cannot discount w hat th e rubyfruit g eneratio n accom plished. T h an ks to the likes

James T. Sears is the award­ winning author or editor of twelve books, among them Growing Up Gay in the South and Lonely Hunters. He is an independent scholar living near Charleston who has recently returned from teaching at Harvard University.

of P o k e y A nderson, Bob B asker, M el B oozer, Logan C arter, Lige C larke, Vicki G abriner, R a y Hill, Leonard M atlovich, M errill M ush room , Jack N ichols, Fred P a e z and Julia P en e lo p e , young lesb ian, gay, bisexual and tran sg en d er S o u th erners (and others) have a com m u nity to turn to, and role m odels to em u la te . And thanks to Jam e s S ea rs and

Rebels, Rubyfruit, and Rhinestones, their Gay Today

lives and their ach ie v em e n ts a re

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Cloth. $ 2 8 .0 0 . 0 -8 1 3 5 -29 6 4 -6 Available in bookstores now!

now part of our p e rm a n e n t record."—

Rebels. R u b y fru it. a n d R h in e ­

R u tg e rs U n iv e r s ity Press 8 0 0 /4 4 6 -9 3 2 3 • rutgerspress.rutgers.edu

s to n es w a s r e c e n t l y e x c e r p t e d in RFD M a g a z in e

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