RFD Issue 121 Spring 2005

Welcome to f e t t l e ,

our nation’s Sunshine City, where everybody smiles.

We could try to seduce you with all kinds of sweet words about how thrilled we are to be doing this issue, but why not speak the truth? We’re tired and horny. That said, we can provide you with some important background info: 1) This issue is called April Fools because, after major deliberations, we were unable to reach consensus upon another title; 2) Some of the contributors are from Seattle, some are not. We had no control over this. We were ball gagged and forced into submission. In retaliation, we have mercilessly edited all submissions from foreign lands. We chopped those suckers to bits; 3) The chosen articles represent a combination of the serious, the spiritual, the informative, the humorous, the erotic and so-fucking-weird-we-put-em-in-just-to-take-up-space. We didn’t want to work too hard.

So, here you have it. The latest issue of RI D. Fnjoy it. Love it. Get to know it. Sleep with it at night, ejaculate across the text ot someone you know. Wrap fish in it when you’re done. But, all above, 11 \VF A GO( )D 'l l MIA reading it. Really. We mean it. We hope you love it. Honestly.

We want to be loved. We’re desperate to be loved. \nd, we also want to know how you feel. To enable this, we’ve set up an email account where you can send us your opinions: bendoverandtakeit@seattle.cum.

Thank you for your time. And your SSSSSSS . ..

The .Wattle Collective (Bobcat, Demien, Gnarlene, Kobalt, Magpie Suddenly, Phoenix, Randy In \ 11 Worlds, Rosette Royale, Salamander, Uncle Markie, Wonderful, et al.)

Table of Contents S/vattle Features

Poetry

Invisible Editorial by Rosette Roya le ............................................ 2 Sheattlc Faerie Question and Answer.............................................5 The Power of Drag by Jicatna..........................................................6 Developing Your Psychic Self

by Madame Ruby Goldensilverberg.......................................8 Art Critics’ Nile Out

by Poontessa Possum &Simone DuPray.......................... 10 Astro-Tarot by David Ray ........................................................... 12 A Breitenbush Experience by Rojo ................................................14 It's Not About What You Wear Jack Davis interviews Patrick D orm an............................... 16 The True Story of Faggotry Creation by Phoenix...................... 20 Spunky the Monkey Special Pull-out Sextion by Anonymous.... 23 Fey History of the Queen City by The Vegan Polenta.............. 27

T rb a n Haiku” by Salamander Hellbender.............................. 7 “The Witch Lover” by Wonderful.................................................. 0 T rban Haiku" by Salamander Hellbender.............................. 10 “Panoramifications" by Maroon................................................... 15 "The Mother” by Magpie Suddenly............................................. 19 "1 Dream of Allan Ginsberg" by Steven G. Solberg..................22 “First” by Andrew Barter ...............................................................22 “Spider” by Whoretense ................................................................. 29

Departments Letters to the Editor............................................................................ 4 Plant Profile by Bujj)' Aakaash..................................................... 28 Spirituality by Rosie Delicious...................................................... 30 Community by Sassi........................................................................33 Heathen Harvest by Malahki R. Thorn....................................... 34 Queer Music Reviews by leopard ..................................................36 Book Reviews..................................................................................... 38 Contact Letters...................................................................................40 Prison Pages by Myrlin ................................................................... 41 Faerie Finder..................................................................................... 44 Announcements............................................................................... 46

Volume XXXI Number 3 Spring 2005 Issue 121

Spring 2005

Cover Photo: Jim Wilkinson Cover Model: The Vegan Polenta

Artwork Inside Cover by Cinnamon...............................................................ii Illustration by Thundercloud............................................................1 Editorial Graphic by l tide Markie .................................................2 Goddess Ravenna Ravine X by Demian..........................................5 Revival by Randy ................................................................................6 Madame Ruby Goldensilverberg by Minxie.................................. 8 Pootessa Possum and Simone DuPray..........................................11 Simone with artwork by Zhingnag Tang.....................................11 Grego Rachko with Poontessa.........................................................12 Pontessa Ponders...............................................................................12 Piglette & Bobo at the Breitenbush River by l tide Markie... 14 Faeries # 1 by Whoretense..............................................................15 Dowager as Faerie Q ueen................................................................16 The goddess Ravenna Ravine at the Crossroads.......................18 Flower, Plant by Thundercloud..................................................... 20 Medicine Power of Wind by Thundercloud................................. 21 The Vegan Polenta & Acolyte by Jim Wilkinson....................... 27 Oak by By-The-Way.......................................................................... 28 Skull Project Sepia # 1 by Rosie Delicious................................. 30 Skull Project Sepia # 2 by Rosie Delicious ...........................32 Faeries # 2 by Whoretense.......................................

38 Faeries # 3 by Whoretense......................................

39 Bubbleman bv W h o r e t e n s e v ° ..,.......................... 45

Invisible Editorial

by Rosette Royale

I’m an invisible editor. And, as the Fates would have it, I currently make my home in Seattle. This city holds an untold wealth of natural beauty There is, however, one source of natural beauty that does seem to be sorely lacking from these environs, and that’s black people. O f course, there are black people living in this city. After all. I’m one. And I live downtown where other black people pass me on the streets daily; we sit next to each other on buses; we stand in lines together at the co-op. It’s comforting, in the sense that, with a fair number of these people, there exists an unspoken camaraderie. But while that connection is great, I swear, sometimes 1 can almost read the saddest of thoughts chugging through their minds: / trally . . . another black person.

Now, this bit of mind reading doesn’t happen to me with the Faeries in Seattle. Why? Because 1 haven’t encountered any black Faeries here. One day, 1 sat down outside, basking in the warmth of the mid­ winter Sun (yes, queens, the Sun does indeed shine here) and set to thinking: Are there any black l'aeries in Seattle? 'Twenty minutes passed. The Sun arced behind a building. In that time, I couldn’t come up with the name of one black Faerie here. Nada. No one. Zip. Black Faeries may have lived here in the past, but in this present, this now, they are nowhere to be found.

But before anyone starts jumping to any conclusions, let it be said this editorial isn’t a charge that Faeries in Seattle, as a group, or even individually, are racist, or that they exclude people because of race. I don’t believe this to be true. I’m simply recounting my experience. The Faeries here are white, mostly men, nearly all queer (in the sexual sense), enjoyable people.

Now, this day when I tried to envision the black Seattle Faeries was no more than 48 hours before 1 started writing this editorial. And why had my mind even ventured to such a place? Simple: 1 realized I’m black, yet here 1 am, editing this magazine where all but one contributor is white. 1low did this happen?

?

Well, happenstance caused me to be this issue’s guest editor.

The original guest editor was (and, indeed the last time I checked, still is) white. For health reasons, which are not connected to his race, he had to step down. Last fall, when he finally accepted the fact that this task was more than he could manage, he put out a call for someone to step in as editor. In midDecember, several friends of mine, all independently, asked me if 1 would take it on. My immediate thought was: Queen, are you cra^y? But 1 didn’t say this. (Well. . .

I did sav this. To all but one of them.) But, after the repeated requests, 1 gave it deep thought. If no one took on the role, I told myself, that would be a shame, since there are some talented people here, with much to offer. Shouldn’t these gifts be shared? The only answer 1 could come up with was, Yes. So, after hemming and hawing for more than a week, 1 agreed to do it.

Even so, I experienced ambivalence over being the editor. This feeling was fueled by a deep questioning.

Increasingly, 1 found myself battling the notion that the editor should be someone else, someone who reflects more closely the face of the Faeries in Seattle. What does that face look like? Well, not like me . . . .

But, lo, somewhere in the distance, I could hear a voice calling out, A ll you have to do is say you ’re a Faerie and you are one.

Whether this is true or not — the being/becoming a Faerie simply by one’s own selfidentification — is a discussion that, considering space limitations, will have to occur in some other editorial.

What I am saving right now is that I’ve got a darker skin tone than anyone in Seattle who identifies as Faerie.

Perhaps this isn’t surprising. 1 mean, let’s face it: Most Faeries are white. They are. Since I’ve yet to hear of a Faerie census, I don’t happen to have racial demographics at my fingertips. But do 1 need them? I mean, really. Look around. Just look around. I know 1 have. At countless gatherings, at Beltanes and Samhains, Issue Number 121

at heart circles. I've looked. And m ost o f the people I've seen have been white.

uncomfortable for us to talk about race. Most people won't come to the table to talk about that experience.

In people’s conscious effort not to notice I'm black, not mention that I'm black, to embrace me as a person and not as a black person, 1 become invisible. \nd my skin rone provides a clean canvas for the seen and unseen, the perfect blank page upon which both the spoken and unspoken get written.

Having said this, I want to say one thing else: I'm not making an argument that this is a condition that needs fixing. At one time I thought, Where are the black people. the laittno(a)s} the Satins, the Asian brothers and sisters?

That’s what 1 used to ask. But now? I don't. That’s because I'm starting to think maybe there’s nothing to Which is probably one of the reasons why I'm a fix. Maybe nothing’s broken. Maybe this is simply the writer. And may be another reason why I’m this wav it’s meant to be, on some larger level that rises far issue’s guest editor, lvven though I've written these beyond mv comprehension. Maybe most Faeries are words, which have allowed me white because that’s who to be seen, in some way, you’d Faeries mostly are. There’s still be hard pressed to find me nothing wrong with this reality “I realized I’m black, yet anywhere amongst these pages. and there’s no negative value I’m the editor, which means I’m judgment attached to it. This is here I am, editing this ghosting a machine that runs simply a statement of what I’ve magazine where all but on the fuel of other people, a observed for close to ten years, portion of whom are somewhat which, admittedly, is a short one contributor is white like me, and, it must be said, are penod of time.

How did this happen?” nothing like me at the same So. Why bring this up now? time.

Simply because this whole It makes me wonder if indeed 1 am a Faerie, since I experience has made me go through some deep bear a lace, a life, an outlook, so unlike the Faeries questioning, thoughts burning through my mind at whose works fill these pages, who sit across from me night, when I’m alone, hidden and invisible in my at Faerie coffee, who have held my hand in circle in room. Which leads me, in a convoluted way, back the sanctuaries across this land. People have told me I'm a start of the editorial.

Faerie countless times, but, I have to admit, I believe Some of you may recall my initiatory statement about this about myself less and less. Yet, there’s an irony being an invisible editor. What’s this queen mean by that? here: I’ve had some of the greatest times of my life you may have wondered. Well, I’ll tell ya. due to Faeries. If it weren’t for the Faeries, 1 doubt if 1 would have met my partner.

1 meant, and still mean, that one of my experiences of being black is how I’m seen and not seen at the So. I’m this issue’s guest editor. Not out of a sense of same time. It’s difficult to describe . . . Hmmm. How martyrdom, or because 1 think I’m the best person to do 1 explain this to you? Okay. Let’s give this a go. do so. I did it because, even though I don’t always enjoy being in this role, I’m a mirror for the larger You can compare being black in a predominately white world. And who among us doesn’t need to gaze white space to being the lone queer in a group of into a mirror from time to time? non-queers: people can see you, but they can erase a fundamental part of you, if it causes them It’s this role, in all its difficulty, that has caused me to discomfort. O f course, there’s a crucial distinction be here, floating in and out of these pages’ white here. Queerness can be sublimated, hidden, if one so spaces, much the same way I float in and out of the desires. You’d have a hard time doing this with your white space of the Faerie world. You may think you blackness (though Michael jackson seems to be catch me out of the corner of your eye, but when you making a career of it). look to see me, I’ll be gone. You’ll be the only one there. And why? Because I’ve mastered the art of 1 know my blackness causes difficulty for some being unseen. In this life. I’ve learned what it means people, Faerie or not. Hell, it causes difficulty for me. to be invisible . . . .

But this is a difficult subject to broach because it’s Spring 2005

3

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR Dear RFD, I am enclosing my extended renewal check . . . I enjoy your excellent magazine so very much. It is interesting and serves its readers in so many ways. My congratulations to Gabby and all the staff for a wonderful publication.

Bobbve S. K. Oak Hill, FL Dear RI D Readers, I’m seeking old Bear issues. I’m looking for the first seven issues of Bear magazine to complete my small archive. I have issues to trade. Please send to: Nature, PO Box 251, Elk, CA 95432 I lello my fellow Faeries— I’ve been sitting here, wishing I could go to the Full Moon Circle tonight, yet knowing that 1 was just too fucking depressed. It made me long for a Circle where I could be out, safe, and supported as a faerie living with mental illness, even, or especially, when I wasn’t at my best. A place where I could be myself and not have to hide the psychic pain 1 live with, or try to explain it to disbelieving minds. A place to be understood. But I haven’t seen anything like this in our wonderful fac community. So, as 1 usually do in such a situation, 1 decided to start something myself.

And so was the “Seattle Fruits and Nuts Radical Faerie Dark Moon Heart Circle” born.

This Circle’s focus is entirely on Mental Health. An up front support group (not therapy) where we share our deepest feelings and fears, as well as our joys and successes, learning to survive these often life-threatening illnesses. Discussing things like meditation, exercise, books, medications — whatever tools we have to help ourselves. 1jving with a mental illness is totally fucked and harder than shit anti don’t think there’s no stigma attached to it just because were faeries. But we can help each other too, as the Faerie I lealers we are. I have Manic Depression, and 1suspect others have their own sets of problems, diagnosed or not. This would be a circle only for those fags who have these difficulties themselves. No family and fjiends. No women. No straight boys. Just facries/fags who are mentally

4

“unwell” and need a place to safely interact with each other. The safety this allows is unique and precious.

The reason I’m writing this letter to RFD is that 1 want to know if there are any other faerie communities who are doing anything similar — dealing up front with mental illness. I’d like to network with others and share what we learn. And I’m also suggesting that perhaps a circle like this would be useful for other cities besides Seattle. Were doing these Fruits and Nuts circles on the dark moon — both so they don’t interfere with the Full Moon circles and because I think energetically the dark moon is a good rime to deal with these “underworld” issues. If you’d like to connect with us you can call me at 206-324-5113 or email me atphoenix-is (ajeartbknk.net or see me at imw.stevenjwells.org.

I look forward to hearing trom you.

Blessings and Love to you, from All my subpersonalities: Phoenix/White Wolf Walks Between/Opuntia fragilis/Steve Wells Dear RFD, I am asking vour readers to help me find a friend who is very dear to my heart. We lost track of each other about 9 years ago when 1 moved from Northern California to Grants Pass, Oregon. His mother, who lived in San Angeleno, Texas, also moved shortly afterwards and 1 have not had any way to contact him.

His name is Darwin Lollar, but goes by the name Maverick. He is from San Angelo, Texas but travels around a great deal. Whe 1 last saw him, he was living in Marysville, CA, but he moved from there shortly after 1 last saw him. He has friends in Cambria, CA; Grants Pass, OR; San Francisco; as well as all over the country. He does not stay long in any one place, hence the name Maverick.

It would mean a great deal to me if any of your readers could help me get in touch with him, or, give me news of him. He would be about 45 years old now, tall, slender with long blonde hair.

Any news would be greatly appreciated, thank you very much.

Lee Garrison 23153 Sharron St. Chowchilla, CA 93610 Issue N um ber 121

S e a ttle Faerie Question and Answer \\e put a question to the queens here which had to be answered in 23 words or less: JX’hat does being a She attle Riidicai Faerie mean to you f

Good coffee with fine friends. No sex, though. 1lave to cross an ocean for that if you're not slender and androgynous. — David Kerlick

What’s unique about the Seattle Faeries is that we've learned to develop within the context of nature. Our inner personas can fly. — Dennis

We are Sock Her moms. Baptist Nuns, Facist Thugs, the Criminally Insane. We are 1:.very thing. We are Nothing. We are the NRA. — GnarUne

I'm a Scorpio faerie in Scorpio Seattle.

Connections to the Seattle faeries have been dying and being reborn for 25 years. I'm fucking tired!

— Phoenix

That has been a running joke for YEARS!!! You just know a fey when you meet one. We are indescribable! Which is a good thing!

— Phoenix Fire Stamper

Having to re­ invigorate the Faerie scene here, reminding people what Faerie roots are and that there is more than “not having rules.’'

— The Vegan Polenta

Spirituality in the City! A I laven from the Business.

— DW L

As a Seattle Radical Faerie, 1 feel it is my job to bring color and fabulousness to the grey and dreary Northwest.

— Purple Mark The only inclusive thing that can be said about Radical Faeries is that no two ever dress alike.

— Demian Tribe & Community. It is important to be with gays where being fabulous is not a sin and where being Walks Between is honored. — Devil Moon Rain. Drizzle. More Rain.

1 live for Faerie Coffee’s Fruited Goddessness! — Wonderful

Gender-fucking my way through an already liberal city.

— Possum Why be defined and constrained by geography?

— Jicama Being in the middle of two different Faerie Camps and feeling like 1 belong to neither one. 1 love how this community is so separated. — Earth Wind 1 barely know how to answer this! Chaos in action is our mode of operation — it just happens and is usually birthed at coffee . . . the only predictable event. — Bootsie My faerie friends actively LEARN and PRACATICE their medicines, 11EAL each other with Spirit’s help, SUPPORT each other’s growth, and PLAY LIFE UP! — Bobcat

It’s a blast partying and camping and doing slight)' spiritual things with Seattle Feys. — Atrocia Spring 2005

5

The Power of Drag

ty jic a m

It was one of those hot, muggy summer evenings that are common in Minnesota. The air hung thick over the city and it was hard to breathe in spite of the small breeze that rustled the leaves of late summer.

The shadows of the rrees grew long as 1 stumbled and slid up the grass-covered hill towards the public housing project where I lived. The setting sun was blinding in my eyes blurry with tears, my nose snotty and my head throbbing with anger. 1 looked back down the hill towards the playground at the object of my anger, a group of ten or so boys catcalling after me. They were still jeering and yelling all manner of put-downs.

Their laughter cut deep into my heart releasing more tears and stoking the rage that was rising within.

The start of their amusement began when I quietly asked Bobby to come over to my house because no one was home. 1 had no idea why that seemed like a good idea; only that in my heart there was a longing to be alone with him. At ten years old, 1 had already heard the words “ faggot” and “queer” but I had no idea that they applied to me.

Bobby laughed when 1 asked him and instantly repeated the question in a loud mocking voice so that all present could hear. “I ley Bobby, do you want to come over to my house and play? No one’s at home,” he said in a mincing voice. Then all the kids started imitating Bobby, adding body and hand gestures to 6

drive the point home. The kids also added their own dialogue such as “Do you want to play house Bobby?

I’ll be the mom.” This was followed by howls of laughter from the circling group.

I did not know what to do or say, so I did what I did best and ran. I could hardly defend myself against the truth. I did want to play house with Bobby; maybe 1 did have a crush on him. All 1 knew was that 1 always felt excited and flushed when I was with him. He had always been sweet to me before and was willing to hang out with me at the playground.

However, now that had all changed. I could not understand how he could turn against me like that with no warning.

I made it to the top of the hill and 1 turned back to look at them once more.

They were still making kissing gestures punctuated by falsetto voices that only increased my rage.

The cement stucco house where I lived with my mother and three older sisters looked exactly like every other house in the projects. They weren’t built like regular houses but were joined to each other in twos, fours or sixes. The projects measured a square mile, completely covering the hill overlooking St. Paul and providing housing for the low-income of the city.

The sun had slipped over the horizon by the time 1 reached the door.

Issue Num ber 121

1 let mvself in with the key hidden under the doormat and went upstairs as my plan started to form. 1 went directly to my sister's room and began looking through the closet to get what 1 needed.

There it was: a platinum blonde wig hat. It was easily stvled in either a flip or a downward fashion which was in vogue in 1963. 1 put it on my head as 1 sat in front of the mirrored vanity. 1 found the mascara on the trav of makeup and applied it to my lashes as 1 had watched my sister do so many times before. Then with a small swab, I applied the blue eye shadow to each upper eyelid. 1 put small blotches of rouge on the prominence of each check with my fingertip and slowly applied the dark red lipstick to my parted lips.

Satisfied with the results, 1 returned to the closet to find the rest of my outfit.

The small black leather skirt fit snuggly over my thin waist and the white tank top completed the look.

Next, 1 slipped on the white go-go boots and a black leather jacket. 1 stood for a few minutes looking in awe at myself in the mirror, touching and primping the hair. 1 did not recognize the girl that 1 saw, though she did rather resemble my sister.

Dusk was inching its way into the neighborhood when I slipped unseen out of the back door. 1 walked purposefully over the hill towards the playground with the white vinyl purse slung over my shoulder.

When 1 reached the top of the hill the group of boys were still there on the ball field, teasing and chasing each other the way boys do. 1 walked unseen down the hill in the settling twilight towards where they were. When 1 got to within a hundred feet of the group 1 started running towards them making sure I did not utter a single word.

When they heard the white go-go boots pounding the hard dirt they turned with looks of shock on their faces. They all began to run not knowing what was coming towards them. As 1 closed in on the herd of boys, 1 singled out Bobby, and continued chasing him as the others turned away to the sides and then fell in behind me.

When 1 was within reach, I started swinging the white vinyl purse at Bobby, hitting his back and head as he ran with all his might. The others were now laughing Spring 2005

and screaming behind me, watching with total glee but not getting close enough to catch my wrath.

Bobby continued to run while I delivered blow after blow upon his back and head. As he tried to cover lus head, he stumbled and fell hitting the hard dirt with a scraping thud. 1 was upon him at once, kicking him with the go-go boots as he curled in a fetal position on the ground. The others watched not only with amusement but also with horror, in fear for their own safety. After a series of nicely placed kicks, 1 turned and ran towards the wooded perimeter of the play field. No one followed as 1 quickly disappeared into the trees.

1 made my way unseen through the woods and then through the houses until 1 reached the safety of my own home. Once inside 1 quickly took off the makeup and clothes that had transformed me into a girl. 1 took a rag to the go-go boots to clean off the dust and dirt, and placed the wig hat back on the shelf where 1 had found it. 1 also hung up the jacket and skirt and arranged the make up table to conceal mv deed. Then 1 went downstairs, turned on the TV and innocently waited for my family to come home.

The next few weeks there was a lot of talk around the projects about how a girl had gotten the best of Bobby on the playground. It was speculated that she was from the eastside and she grew bigger and fiercer with each retelling of the story. Bobby was now the laughing stock of the neighborhood and a few months later, he and his family moved away. 1 would like to think that it was because of me. I kept my secret for years and only later did 1 realize that 1 had stumbled onto . . . the power of drag!

Urban Haiku 1 wanted a kiss When we parted on his porch, But I was afraid.

— Salamander Hellbender

7

by Madame Ruby Goldensilverberg As recently as one hundred years ago, space travel was beyond the imagination of most people.

Fortunately, there were those who didn’t let that stop them, and now space flight is fairly commonplace.

Soon, space travel will be available commercially.

Technology has evolved to the point that this is now possible, all because at least one person said, “It can be done.” If we can begin to imagine it today, we can work to make it real. That is the first principle of manifesting anything in your life: you must be able to imagine it first. “What your mind can conceive, you can achieve,” has always been one of my favorite sayings. The same is true with becoming psychic.

You know, when you’re famous and terribly gifted like Madame Ruby, people will always want to know how to be like you. In fact, that’s why I’ve come to be with you today. Recently, while performing at a benefit gala for the Mother Heart Drum Community, Madame Ruby ran into your editor, Rosette Royale. Rosette and Madame Ruby go way, way back, and Madame Ruby simply adores Rosette.

Unfortunately, she knows this all too well.

“Would you be willing to help my dear readers open to their psychic energies and become terribly gifted psychics, just like you?” Rosette inquired during a recent phone conversation. Feigning mock surprise and delight, 1 exclaimed, “( )f course! I’d love to! Anything for you, Roro!” 1, of course, already knew that she would ask, so this came as no real surprise to Madame Rubv.

Those of you who have been fortunate enough to be at one of the stops on my wildly successful “Speaking with the Spooky” World Tour, already know how eerily accurate Madame Ruby has been with her psychic messages for those of you in the audience.

For the rest of you, let’s just sav it's uncanny and let it go at that, shall we?

Now, I’m certain that if you listen to my detractors, they’ll say things like, “She’s a fraud. She just simply restates what is already known in an effort to daze and contuse the observer and make it appear to be real, when in fact, it’s all planned. Anyone could do 8

that!” Or they might say, “She’s making it up. The only Spirits she communes with are in a bottle.”

Madame Ruby has only to point out how small these nay-savers are trying to cut Madame Ruby down.

What can possibly be gained by the spewing of all this negative energy? One never looks taller by cutting off the heads of others. It’s by lifting one another up that we truly reach our full stature. To these small detractors, Madame Ruby says, “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about trying to do better all the time. It’s about the journey, not the destination.” She also says “1 don’t see you writing articles for highly esteemed, mainstream magazines like this one, so now who’s laughing?”

So how can you begin to open to the psychic energies that surround us all? Start with acknowledging the facts: We are all psychic. That is just a spiritual truth. The unfortunate part is that most of us aren’t open to or even aware of that side of our being. All of the psychic gifts come to us as we open to them. Every religion tells us this. They all use different names for it, but it is what happens. As we begin to depend less and less on our physical senses, we are able to become more aware of our energetic or “psychic” senses.

As with anything we wish to accomplish, we must take steps in that direction or we’ll never complete the journey. To assist in this process, Madame Ruby suggests the following techniques. Be aware that some consider these rather unorthodox, but if they worked for Madame Ruby, they can work for anyone.

1.

Fake it till you make it.

Practice your psychic abilities on yourself. Start with easy stuff. Guess who is calling before you answer the phone. Dial random numbers on your phone and see if you can guess the name of the person who answers. It’s great fun and if you dial local numbers, you just might make a new friend.

Issue Num ber 121

Get a deck of cards and guess what the card is before turning it over. Madame Ruby suggests that vou get a Tarot deck because they have such pretty pictures on the cards. Plus, just having a Tarot deck will make it look like you are already listening to the Spirits. Don’t be too concerned with “being right." That is the main impediment for so many people with so many issues. Be okay with just making the effort. Imagine yourself psychic and soon you will be.

2.

Learn to tune out the outer world.

To become aware of your psychic messages, you have to learn to ignore the physical senses. Call your most self-absorbed friend and say, “Tell me how things arc things for you.” When they begin prattling on about themselves, this is your chance to practice “tuning out.” If they catch on that you aren’t listening, just say that you think you just fell in and out of a coma and that it has left you feeling unsettled, and you must go to the hospital right away, then hang up quickly. They'll soon forget the call because they will probably go right back to thinking about themselves again before the phone hits the hook.

3.

opens and tills you with unconditional love, rest in that love and watch what happens. With a little practice, vou'll get all the “psychic messages” you could ever want.

Madame Ruby wishes you all the best on your journey to becoming a more psychic you. Remember, these things: •

Don’t let anyone tell you that you “can't do it."

•

It's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

•

Make the most of every moment.

•

Ignore your detractors (that one has always worked particularly well for Madame Ruby).

•

All things are possible. Think it, then become it!

Psychic smooches to you all!

The Witch Lover

Dress more outlandishlv than what you are used to.

Today you accused me of casting spells

Being a psychic is about letting go of society’s norms. Use a little of your Faerie magic and fashion yourself a turban for example. A nice high hat puts you just that much closer to the Spirits and makes a great psychic “fish net” to catch more messages.

Plus, a really festive turban is a great way to disguise tilings on those bad hair days. Who says that fashion can’t be functional, too?

entails certain rules that your logic

These are just a few of the techniques in Madame Ruby’s 108-step process to becoming a psychic. The complete list can be found in my soon-to-bepublished self-help book entitled, 1 Think. 1'm l Turing Things: Madame Ruby Speaks with the Spirits. Remember, if Madame Ruby can do it, so can you!

The thing about truly opening to your psychic self is that all that you have to do is open your heart. Your heart is the center of your psychic body. When you fill your heart with love, you open yourself to that psychic center. You need only think loving thoughts and that center will open for you. When that center Spring 2005

handfasting you to me. My dear, magic hasn’t considered. No good witch compels emotions unharmed. To ritually affect someone without their permission raises the Black Arts, and 1 am not one to barter with demons. Actually, since you mentioned it, you’re the one using sorcery on me. With your wicked smiles, peppery kisses and bewitching wiles, each day with you becomes more confusing — look how 1 swoon! How I always stay lost in a trance whenever you’re away.

—

Wonderful 9

Art Critics' Nile Out

by

PoontessaPossum & Simone

Greetings from Poontessa Possum of the London Daily Rag and Simone DuPray of the Biloxi Bugle — your hosts for the first “Art Critics’ Nite Out” in Seattle, a spin-off of “Grrrls Nite Out” evenings, where a bunch of faeries dress up in drag, let down their hair, go out to different venues and stir up trouble. We decided our critics would do best at First Thursday, Seattle’s showcase of new and current artists. Unfortunately, it seems most of the public is drawn to the high-end galleries, leaving smaller struggling artists barely hanging on. Some of us faeries didn’t like this idea, so we went out to give our support — and, of course, our frank opinions.

the words “fuck” or “cock.” Quite tasty! In the same building were some other aspiring artists — but they were in such small spaces it was hard to view the work. And for some reason there were books everywhere — was this an art show or a library? The most fun was clomping up and down the metal staircase, which might say something about the quality of work being shown.

Moving on through the next galleries, we felt as if we were looking at knock­ offs of well-known artists. These

We met in Pioneer Square, part of the historic district in Seattle, where most of the galleries are located.

After getting a group of 10-12 faeries together (Wedgie, Wonderful, Atrocia, Gnarlene, Salamander, to name a few), we started our gallery tour to offer criticism and wit within the pretentious and harrowing art scene. We knew the evening would start off with a “kick,” as 1 even had to use my boot on the bumper of a truck to secure a parking spot and avoid being mowed down in the streets. 1 suppose some people don’t know how to react to drag queens acting as parking attendants! ( )ur first stop was quite thrilling as we walked into a room filled with straight porno images pasted together. But, alas, all the penises were blotted out with black felt-tip pen. We never did get the artist’s name or what she was trying to say in her work, but we were won over with her gingerbread cookies, with icing that outlined the shapes of genitalia or spelled

Urban Haiku I sec Yes and No. Lost in options I don’t make a choice.

— Salamander Hellbender 10

people painted in such a similar style to the famous artists, including the subject matter, that we began to wonder if there was any originality out there. Needing some air — as you know wigs can get quite hot — we ventured out to the open park area. Artists in this area tended to be “craftsmen” selling their wares, but the creativity was very apparent. There was one seemingly homeless and drunken man named Gabriel who inspired us with a piece about war. The work was a great mix of metal and found objects all relating to death, war and destruction, with a small flag topped on it saving “peace.” Simone and I stayed our distance as some liquid was splattered about, and we weren’t sure if it was paint, blood or vomit, or all of the above. Further down, Simone pondered on artist Zhigang Tang’s works of babies with oversized heads.

After a few gawks and ganders from onlookers, we headed into the heart of the more upscale galleries such as D ’Adamo Woltz, Foster/White, and Calix.

Issue Num ber 121

One gallery showcased large balls and baskets, a favorite of Simone and Poontessa. These large, oversized pieces were stimulating for us, but we found more interest in one of the workers in the gallery named Frances, who was a painter — but just of the gallery walls. Vivid reds, saucy yellows and creamy whites peered out from behind the works of people we probably won’t ever remember — god, she was a talent. Tucked in the back of the Foster/ White gallery was a glass ball inscribed with poetry by faerie Wonderful. Simone particularly likes balls, but Poontessa likes her dick, so I was quite pleased when Wedgie, one of our entourage, put his six-foot-tall penis painting along one wall with some of the other art. To our surprise, some woman came over, screaming to remove it immediately. Goodness, such fuss over a cock! In another area was a series of vividly colored paintings with jumbled letters and punctuation. We just thought she’d hung all the work

the wrong way, which we were quick to point out to the artist before leaving.

We rounded our night out back at the studio of faeries Grego Rachko and David Peacey. Grego is a painter who works in oils and does portraiture and occasional figurative pieces. His paintings are filled with fabulously rich colors — which many times arc his inspiration, as well as the strong connection to the models. Many models are faeries themselves, so onlookers get a chance to peer into our faerie faces. Grego mentions that his Spring 2005

work, which is somewhat iconic, possibly stems from hts upbringing in a Russian Orthodox family (stained glass, music and imagery.) Poontessa did notice however that he seems obsessed with the phallic — weiner dogs,

bananas, cigarettes and naked men’s penises — but do 1 object? O f course not, darlings! He is inspired by the beauty of connections between things and humans reaching out to each other, which is sometimes lost in our ever-bustling world. When asked for a quote, Grego jokingly replies, “It's about getting fuckable models.” Poontessa strongly agrees.

Lastly, we have David Peacey, who is just now getting back into making art. His paintings are also oil, and are much more figurative. Using a palette of various colors, sometimes his work is bold and bright, and other times, subtle and muted. He loves abstract expressionism, and tends to build his work around a shape or image that then morphs into the final piece.

David also likes to bring the natural into the non-natural, as one of his pieces called Cauldron has sticks sewn onto the canvas, “floating” in the mouth of the purple cauldron. When asked about why he likes being an artist he replied, “ It’s just a joy to be painting.” That was just before a dog that was there with other faeries, shat on the floor — Poontessa always says that performance art is wonderful.

Well that’s all for now, dearies — until next time, or perhaps in your town.

— Love from Simone

Poontessa!

Astro-Tarot: 'Hie Will Chakra

by David Ray

THE TOWER Also known as the* solar plexus, the will chakra is located in the center of the torso. An intense chakra of power and dynamic action, the will chakra is represented by the Tower card in the tarot. The Tower is a decidedly phallic image. Most decks depict the Tower exploding, suggesting an ejaculating penis. Like an orgasm, the Tower card is a cathartic event, when the deeper will of spirit moves through the surface ego. The Tower shows the dilemma of power inherent in the will chakra. Our power comes through us from a greater source, but in order to accept it we must be willing to embody power as individuals beings.

The will chakra and the Tower card also correspond with the planet Mars. Mars is the warrior planet, able to move through difficult challenges with courage and assertive force. In Vedic astrology, Mars is seen as a malevolent planet, causing conflict and injury. Mars has become a common symbol in modern times for masculine energy. But in Vedic tradition, the planet for the male partner is Jupiter. Jupiter is the sex chakra. It teaches us to honor the source of our sexual energy and allow that energy to grow and expand. Mars, on the other hand, is the ejaculating penis that releases sexual energy in a violent display.

Jupiter is constructive male energy while Mars is destructive male energy. Our modern culture tends to identify more with the latter.

Nevertheless, radical faeries can benefit from a positive connection with Mars energy. Many queer men have a special sensitivity to the potential destructive element of masculinity. Faerie culture attempts to cultivate a more holistic understanding of what it means to be a man, emphasizing the constructive Jupiter qualities of maleness. But the will chakra is an important energy center for all people, regardless of gender. As faeries, we can let go of the image of men as destructive fighters while still honoring our power centers. One of the Sanskrit words tor Mars is Mangala, which means auspicious one. Sometimes what is needed to move through an obstacle is the destructive quality of Mars. Mars is the powerful warrior who has the ability to destroy enemies. \ spiritual warrior directs that potent energy towards cutting away internal beliefs and attitudes that prevent him from remembering who he is.

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The planet Mars offers us the challenge of dancing within this seemingly dangerous and sometimes contentious world of physical manifestation. When energy flows unhindered through our will chakras, we have the power and initiative to act with deliberation in life. The phallic energy of the Tower reminds us that simply being alive as individual beings is a bold expression of spirit’s will to create through ego.

THE EMPEROR: The Inhale o f the Will The inhale or lunar breath of the will chakra is the energy of the sign of Aries, represented by the Emperor card in the tarot. Drawing energy into the will chakra is an act of claiming power and creating personal presence. The sign of Aries is the first sign of the zodiac. It shows the initial burst of willful becoming when we realize we arc individual beings with our own personal desires. Aries moves with deliberate action in the world. The Emperor helps us make conscious choices about how to direct our energy from a place of clarity. The Emperor creates a conscious container of energy for the cultivation of what is desired in life.

With the sign of Aries and the inhale of the will chakra, we are leaving the lower transpersonal chakras represented by Jupiter and Saturn. As we ascend the chakras, we move towards an awareness of our individuality. Aries and the Emperor is that first flare of individual desire that motivates us to claim our power and act with authority.

DEATH: The Exhale o f the Will The exhale or solar breath of the will chakra is the energy of the sign of Scorpio, represented by the Death card in the tarot. In Vedic astrology, Mars rules the sign of Scorpio as well as Aries. Aries is Mars moving and acting visibly in the world. But in Scorpio, Mars directs its fiery energy inward for inner transformation and purification. Scorpio is where we feel all the intense emotion that gets processed in the will chakra. This is where we wrestle with feelings of powerlessness, resentment, jealousy, and rage. As we move down the chakras from the will center to the lower transpersonal chakras, we must release the layers of ego that seem to separate us from the divine.

Scorpio goes to the depths of pain and desire in order to purify itself of illusion and find the essence of true power.

Issue Num ber 121

Announcing the release of Mark's new double CD:

\m \lS G

THE

CH\KRAS

In Yedic astrology, the Sun is exalted in the sign of Aries.

The Sun is the source of divine light that creates all life.

For the individual, the Sun represents personal presence and self-confidence. The Sun helps us remember that each of us is an expression and celebration of that divine light. The Sun card in the tarot is a visual reminder of this place of joy and divine presence. When the Sun is exalted in Aries, the Emperor is granted the divine right of kings bv the divinitv of the Sun. The Sun is related to the third eye chakra. Use your breath to connect the third eve chakra with the will chakra. Imagine energy flowing from your third eye into your solar plexus, helping you establish a clear and joyful presence with power and purpose.

The planet Mars is exalted in the sign of Capricorn, ruled bv Saturn and the root chakra. Capricorn is the Devil card in the tarot. Capricorn helps Mars to ground its potent energy in the Earth. When Mars is exalted in Capricorn, the Devil or Horned One has his phallic Tower. Once you’ve connected the third eve with the will chakra, use your breath to connect the will chakra with the root chakra, grounding your power in the Earth.

EXPLORING THE WILL Find the Tower, Emperor and Death cards from your favorite tarot deck. Place them on an altar or somewhere you will notice them often. In sacred space, call on the energy of these cards to help teach you about the will chakra and the planet Mars. Doing physical exercise like abdominal crunches, where you can feel the energy of your will chakra, helps you to get into your power center.

Exercise your will by moving through resistance.

Consider your relationship with power, conflict, and ego.

Breathe with your will chakra. With your inhale, connect with the energy of the Emperor card. Imagine that you are receiving energy into your power center, allowing personal power to flow through you. And with your exhale, connect with the energy of the Death card.

Imagine that you are purifying your power by feeling and releasing difficult emotions created by your ego self. If you like, you can pull out the Sun and Devil cards as well, and explore their relationship to the will chakra.

This article is copyrighted© 2005 by David Ray www. Ray Veda, com or www.ijola i arot. org Spring 2005

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MarkWeigle.com 13

A Breitenbush Experience It should be noted that the following is a journal entry; therefore, it is filled with more drama than an episode of Oprah. I can’t say that I regret what is written, for it represents exactly what I was feeling at that very moment. 1 do know that if it weren’t for this experience at Breitenbush, if it weren’t for the Radical faeries, and if it weren’t for the I aerie that I fell madly in love with, 1 would not be half the man I am today. So, with that noted, I want those who read this simply to enjoy and just remember to ask yourself, “Is the first time always the best time?”

February 14, 2003 Yesterday we arrived at Breitenbush Hot Springs; this is the gathering ground for the Radical I aeries. A gay man’s answer to pagan, dream-catching lesbians . . . I am in hell, but before I go any further I just need to write that I am so damn tired of all the kissing and hugging that goes on around these parts. Jesus!

1lello, goodbye, lunch, dinner, pass the salt . . . whatever the occasion these people are forever sucking on one another.

Last night was the Opening Ceremony, a Faerie ritual to welcome the community back to its gathering spot . . . to their home. 1 am not a religious man; 1 am not a Pagan and 1 am not a follower. 1 do not belong to any groups or organizations.

1 subscribe to the Advocate and Netflix and that is it!

I .ast night was all about ceremony, ritual and brotherhood. 1 was not in my comfort zone. My comfort zone usually consists of my girlfriends (R.G.’s as they’re called here), a gin and tonic, and trashy chat about boys. It does not include a combination of naked men who are cloaked and masked as if trapped in a pornographic version of Return of the Jcdi. O f course, there were many costumes not limited to cloaks, but how 1 wished some of them were cloaked. I have a very vivid imagination, 1 don’t need that much information.

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From the screaming spiritual leader, to the mad laughter, to the bad drag, to the soundtrack lor the event provided by The Lord of the Rings, 1 thought 1 had been led to my death. Any moment, swords would be unsheathed and demons would rise from beneath me and they would feast on my “virgin” flesh.

At some point I took my place next to my man on the floor. Question: Why is it necessary at any religious retreat to sit on the floor, and be so damn uncomfortable? Where arc the chairs?

After getting somewhat comfortable, the guy with the mask and the skirt started preaching about the Faerie philosophy. The message: Love people for who they are, and not what they look like. Oh, and if you’re gonna suck dick in the dining room, keep your ass covered.

The music started again and we were instructed to rise and move about the room in a bizarre game of Simon Says. “To the right, to the left, forwards, backwards!” Blah, blah, blah . . . it made no sense to me. I might as well have been underwater and having no sense of which way was up. 1 snapped, looked at my beautiful man and said the words I never wanted to say: “1 can’t do this.” With that, he helped me

Panoramifications 1 see everything All the m inute details Unable to move — stalled Like a hovering bird The beginning of your day Your long drive to work &

through the sea of Faeries and insisted that he take me back to the T 7 3 ra»&t ~ ©os cabin. 1 protested. 1 would not allow mv insecurities, my issues, to become his, and 1 went back to the cabin alone.

I'm standing in the shower Shoulders burning You’ll get a vanilla latte At Starbucks &

My heart racing, 1 tried to keep pace and rushed back to the cabin where my fears and insecurities could be kept hidden. 1 knew that my guy would be done with me.

This would be the end of the road for our relationship, and why not? I just turned my back on his community, rncked tail, and ran home. Why would he stay with me?

To my surprise, he did just that.

When my guy returned, he embraced me and listened as I cried like a babe. 1 told him that I don’t belong here. I don’t get “it”! He listened, he cried, and he continued to hold me. When 1 told him that he deserved to be with a partner whom he could share all of his experiences with, he said that he didn’t need or want anyone else. He went on saying that 1 am his partner, his lover, and if necessary, “we’ll just take separate vacations.” At that moment we had to laugh.

We laughed so hard, 1 thought 1 was going to pass out. Dolly Parton was right, “ . . . laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.”

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Follow you with my eyes Like a ghost — not in Too m uch of a hurry To fade though you'd Like m e to — you don’t Like m e looking anymore Drying off putting on a shirt My day off — I go hiking As high up as 1 can go to Get the complete picture W hat’s really going on My brain makes answerless Lists from my cool vista & I can see my eyes seeing

Despite a wonderful ending to what could have been my last night with my man, 1 still feel trapped here. I can’t believe I’m losing two days of vacation time for this, but then again, 1 would do anything for my guy.

What they don’t want to see — Your long journeys My endless hiking quests &

January 22, 2005 It’s now two years later and 1 could not be more grateful for my Breitenbush experience. I don’t feel compelled to go back, not yet anyway, but I do know that 1 owe a great deal to the Radical Faeries. You are magickal, and 1 adore you! Kisses, hugs and hisses to you all!

Spring 2005 15

The plenty of space Between us — Maroon

It's Not About What You Wear

Jack Davis interviews Patrick Dorman

There is a fabulous annual Beltane event in Seattle called Ravenna Ravine. It involves manifesting the goddess, Ravenna Ravine and ritually traversing an overgrown stretch of Ravenna park. 1low do we describe how Ravenna the goddess, Ravenna the event and Ravenna the park are interrelated? jack Davis interviews Patrick Dorman who was there when it all began.

Jack: Jxt’s talk about the event and then we’ll talk about the history. Where does it start, where does it happen?

Patrick: Ravenna Park is a ravine in the north central part of Seattle. It has very steep sides and it still feels wild; there was old growth there up through the teens. A stream that runs underground from Green Lake down to Lake Washington surfaces and flows through the park. When we are there in the spring, there is lots of rain so it’s bursting into its freshest, juiciest green.

It might be a mile from one end to the other and maybe a f d or quarter of a mile wide.

It’s not a large place physically, but it is a large place spiritually.

J: This event starts at one end of the park and goes to the other end?

P: Yes. We gather at mid-day on the first Sunday in May, in the meadow at the west end of the park. It’s a pretty amorphous group of celebrants: queers, fags, queens, dykes and more traditional families that have been coming for a long time. Some children who are now fifteen started coming when they were four or five, so the goddess, Ravenna Ravine, is equivalent to the Laster Bunny or Santa Claus in their childhood pantheon of mythic creatures.

There are lots of different spiritual vocabularies present; mostly it’s pagan apd Native American derivative. In the early years there were thirty five or forty oi us. In 2004 we numbered somewhere around a hundred and thirty five.

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After we cast the circle, ground and invoke the directions, we call the goddess out of the ravine. And when 1 say call, I don’t mean metaphorically, 1 mean people are hollering for the goddess to please come out of the ravine and join us. We call her name. We call Ravenna, we call Ravenna Ravine, we call various endearments to her, to come and be with us. We are aspecting the goddess, Ravenna Ravine in a mortal person on that day, but we are also calling to the powers and magick of the ravine.

Months of preparation have gone into the moment when she emerges out of the ravine.

This is the first vision that most of the celebrants have of this year’s goddess and her glamour is dazzling. She greets the circle with an invocation and then leads everyone into the ravine. Lots of people are dressed in elaborate costume, there are banners and parasols and drumming. The procession is very festive.

Traditionally there are a couple of stops in the ravine. One stop is usually at a boulder that was left by a glacier; it’s huge, the size of a Buick, and has a well-situated depression in the top that holds water or other things. In the past this has been a place where the goddess gives a blessing.

J: That must have taken forever.

P: It took a long time. The goddess usually has a oneon-one blessing with each celebrant and the amount of time spent with her depends upon the goddess.

Some years, she’s quite aloof and contained. Other years, she’s more personable and chatty.

She might give small gifts, handmade by the goddess herself. She might mark people with a splotch of mud on the forehead, a blessing of water and earth from the ravine. It’s a physical manifestation that you carry with you throughout the rest of the day.

Issue Num ber 121

J: Talk ab o u t th e tw o dads w h o b ro u g h t their son to the g o d d ess in 2003.

J: \ \ h ere and w hen did the event, R avenna Ravine g et started?

P: Two middle aged men were coming through the ravine with their son who was developmentally disabled.

They stopped and observed the line of people who were waiting to go through a few stations before being blessed bv the goddess. 1 went over to chat with the dads and saw that they had pentades on their trucker caps. One of them said it would be really nice to have his son blessed bv the goddess, but he was not up to waiting in line, so 1 ushered them through the express lane directly to the goddess for an audience. Their son loved it and the dads were grateful.

P: It starred in the fall o f 1988, around a Thanksgiving feast. There were six or eight of us at the home of some friends who liv ed on the ravine.

People were musing about the little known Celtic goddess, Ravenna Ravine. Looking forward to Beltane, we said that we needed to celebrate this goddess in our own queer way.

In the 1980’s, 1 was on the edges of several queer spiritual circles that came together to help birth Ravenna Ravine. Risk of Change is a giant-puppet troupe that has been around since the late 70’s. Most of them are gay men — fags. Two other groups were After the blessing, there is another stop 1 call the the Big Flairs and the Mother Heart Drum, both Papal Balcony, where paths leading out of the ravine informed by Native come together. From one American traditions. The Big switchback, the goddess Hairs were five fags and the usually delivers a statement, I am thegoddess J‘ \avenna J‘\azA?w.

Drum included a lot of fags, overlooking the celebrants I am thegoddess alive zvithin you, but also women and men as on the floor of the ravine. well. Thrown into this mix There have been years when I am the earth 6eneath your zvetfeet. w'as the vision of Radical the goddess has said simply I am the zvolf the ozvh, the egret.

Faeries: queens, sissies, and be with your pleasure and I am the 9fsquah(y LRiver delta, queers, people who walk be with the pleasure of between, who embody spring. Other times, she has tdho — ivho hut I, remember zvith gender variance . . . . not been so amiable. She every hiving cehho f my body? might let us know she is Our intention was to make a I am thefermejuices o f hist. outraged about the trashing space to celebrate our of the earth, both on the I am the sensuous szvapping o f spit. spirituality' bv celebrating grand scale of worldwide gender variance.

In the I am the thrusting deeper and deeper. nuclear waste and on the process we would be creating personal level of how we I am the crescent moongrozvurgfull. a cultural community. each deal with our own I am the moon sucking the tide. garbage.

J: What are the aspects of This speech is the last stop of the procession through the ravine. From here the goddess leads us up to a big grassy area on the south bluff where we have a picnic.

I am the sucking o f neivhom hips.

I am the szveffing o f mihkjzvolhen tits.

I am the sucking o f cht and dick( .

I am the sucking o f mud at yourfeet and I am the suck o f your fast breath.

Who — ivho but zve, remember zvith every hiring cehho f our body?

After feasting, we lie around and socialize. There could be some small entertainments, songs or poems. Then we magically charge the Maypole, weave the ribbons and end with a spiral dance.

Spring 2005

Ravenna Ravine, the goddess?

P: She is an earth goddess, she is the world around us . . . . Goddesses come up with their own invocations but she is very much saying 1 am you, and 1 am what is all around you. She is connected to earth, air, fire and water, to the seasonal cycles and she’s very much connected to that specific place. You don’t do Ravenna Ravine in another province, you do it in Seattle in Ravenna Park.

17

J: Ixr’s talk about the dowagers, the previous goddesses.

What’s the process for deciding the gtxkiess?

is a d o o r o p en in g o r even an initiation. T h e dow agers are there to help h er thro u g h these processes.

P: It has varied. When we began, in 1989, it seemed important to have someone aspect Ravenna Ravine.

In the first years, the role of goddess was shuffled amongst the core people in a very informal way. After a few seasons of Ravenna, the five of us who had embodied the goddess said we, the dowagers, would consense on the next goddess.

J: Gender can be very fluid, but if we rely on the gender binary for this one question, what is the significance of the goddess being aspected by a maler

Now the dowagers meet every year sometime after Brigid. We have a queen’s brunch and choose a new goddess for the coming year. For me, the consensus process is mystical.

Each year, what I hope for is someone to represent the goddess who has a strong spiritual vocabulary. It can be Buddhist, Native American, Pagan, or something else, but I want them to have some sort of spiritual practice.

They’ve got to be able to present themselves in ceremony, so it helps if they have some experience in the fey arts, drama, dance or drag queen energy. A sense of gender fluidity is also essential. 1 want them to have an idea of queer community and queer culture, to be familiar with the three questions from I lairy 1lay: Who are we as gay people? Where did we come from? W hy are we here?

Vfter the new goddess is chosen and before the event of Ravenna Ravine takes place, she has various visionings around the sort of goddess she will be, as well as what to wear. Whoever is chosen is the goddess for that entire year. Being the goddess becomes a part of their spiritual path and for many it 18

P: When 1 have been in Recfuming ritual and been asked to visualize being in the lap of the goddess, what comes to me, in true vision, is a male wearing a dress.

When someone who has a penis aspects the goddess, it says something about the inside of the man, something about his spiritual place in the world. We are not reversing gender roles here; you can only reverse roles when you limit yourself to two genders. What we are doing is celebrating the paradigm of gender fluidity. There have been two women who have been the goddess and several women have been the god; all of them understood that paradigm.

This is a queer event, it’s not that we are taking license, we are what we are. 1 don’t have the right language to use here because 1 only have “he” and “she.” Neither of these words really work for me and they certainly don’t work for the goddess Ravenna Ravine, although we always use queen-speak and use “she” in reference to her.

J: What role does the god play?

P: The god of Green Lake is a somewhat minor character in this whole drama, usually taking direction from the goddess. Sometimes he is in charge of focusing celebrants and creating sacred space at the Issue Num ber 121

beginning. He is the goddess's personal support throughout the day.

J: It seems to me that how one approaches Ravenna is a personal issue. Even though it's a public spectacle, and people tend to dress up. how you do that is really vour own personal work.

P: It’s like any other nrual — how you prepare nourishes vour experience; it's how your practice deepens.

As a child, 1 wanted to be outside wearing beautiful clothes. And that carries through today. There is this elemental cjuality that 1 am doing what 1 did in childhood, which is adorning myself outdoors, under the sky, creating altars in the woods, being seen by the fairies, being witnessed by earth, air, fire and water, but also honoring the elements by presenting myself in a beautiful way.

We are here to give one another courage, whether it’s by demonstrating in political protests on the street or demonstrating a love for the earth and humanness at Beltane. 1 think that an important reason why we

“Our intention was to make a space to celebrate our spirituality by celebrating gender variance. In the process we would be creating a cultural community” dress up and adorn ourselves is because we look around us and see the world is so beautiful that we want to be beautiful too . . . .

If you saw the pictures, you might think that Ravenna Ravine was a costume epic or a springtime Halloween, when in fact, it’s the spiritual intention around Beltane that’s more important than what you’re wearing.

People have said, “1 don’t have time to make a costume, I don’t know how.” My answer is just put a wreath on your head and come. And more than one person has said that immediately transforms them.

They wove some twigs together, put them on their head and suddenly they were at festival. It’s about not wearing everyday clothes to ritual. It’s about changing into some sort of festival garb that is a manifestation of your essence and that puts you in a different place and time. It’s not about what you wear — but then fashion is the art of changing consciousness at will.

Spring 2005

The Mother 1. there are those who will not think of her sage-crotched, sneakers in her dying hair w ho won’t connect the consuming fires to come to her bitter roots tom from the side of the highw ay who won't understand the sand in wax paper safety-pinned with a prayer to her pock-marked skin nor feel the untold eyes that w atch them from the toothlike rocks rearing over their heads

2. she waits for ships, a broken shell like her daughter w ashed between her feet on angry tides she reaches for her sons through cracks the stones of her doorway flow ing with their blood each a dream lifting her Ixxly into the olive trees her flesh silver on the branch and in neither does she sing for the children sleeping under the orphaned moon 3. when never becomes enough, lift your red muzzle from the ribs of her prey when enough empties into the streets, fold back your wings against the storm in her breath w hen the streets have been forgotten, lay your skull between her bitter roots remembering that there are those who will not think of her and for them she is returning

— Magpie Suddenly

19

Hie True Story of Faggotry Creation: lold to White Wolf Walks Between by l ift l aggot (,od Himself!

Ir starts like this: an inhalation big as the cosmos. And it comes back out — in a Note. An undefmable note.

A fabulous note, held slow and sweet and pure, filled with radiance and delight. Filled with love. The sound spreads, slowly. It picks up the air it moves thru as it swells. The air, thus catalyzed, swirls into forms, dancing, moving along at a gentle, increasing rate. It develops textures, myriad alignments in the grain, slithering liana slinking along, Sound taking over and beginning structure. Moisture forming. Water dripping from it, cum, pooling . . . .

Sounds bounce off the water as they do the air. The Notes mix in ways the air takes them, moving to fluffs and eddies, sliding gently across the surface of the waters, picking up tones and tunes, trials and tribulations. It’s all there — from one side of creation to total destruction.

Balance. Chillingly delicious slivers of sounds . . . flesh sliding against flesh . . . Ecstasy. Slowly moving, softly breathing, picking up momentum, but not so’s you’d ever notice. Just vibrations . . . growing . . . dying . . . growing . . . .

But where did this sound come from?

It didn’t just make itself. (Did it? Oh my!) We heard it was made — so obvious, thus so true — by The Faggot God — He, who is indelibly immersed in the waves of music, of Sound, of dance, of Love. Creating with a whim, a moment of ecstasy, it’s so easy. The Faggot God. Where'cl 11c come from?

I le must have created himself, of course. Got to start somewhere. I le lets this Sound he’s begun move through the cosmos. Cosmos forming with each breath. What fun! What sublime ecstasy. He’s happy.

Who doesn’t like dimming to play? Or playing to cum.

He dances as the Sound makes Him, no choice, though I le set it in motion. So what? It’s out of his control now, Chaotic, like it’s always been really, but he likes to play pretend, kinda silly kid-energy, so sweet. Mmmmm-hmmmm. This hum, coming from the combination of moving so exquisitely slow, and the increasing swirl that catches 1lim. And the Sound is once more sent forth with a distinctly different shading mellow, smooth, smokey, slippery, slimv, 20

T h e B e g in n in g

squishy, slidey, snaky. Sexuality, raw in its shriek, soft in its yearning. Oh, ooob. Such yearning . . . .

But now he can hardly keep his feet on the ground.

What ground? Where’d it come from? Seems the Notes have found one another. They’re starting to create Bridges between themselves, and along those Bridges other Sounds are created as they travel at their varying velocities, a bit faster now. Over, under, through the water. But still, you wouldn’t see it moving. It’s not yet that fast — but those little ones dancing — who are they? The energy, it builds stronger when you go slow. Can’t speed up till the whole thing gets whirling and that takes some specificity! Got to give that Time. So many forms the Sound takes . .. winds in the trees . . . flying leaves . . . .

Still He sings and dances. Moves as the Sounds move him, ever increasing, the cycle moving back and forth. The Notes join again and stone comes into being — singing and dancing on the waves of the sound. On a mountain of granite, catch a grain of sand in a miniscule crevasse, a touch of down, a bit of leaf, seed of a tiny thing, so fragile only to live weeks, gradually giving way to small shrubs, then tiny trees, still so very tiny, but then as time goes on, and the rock, the stone too hard to chip, is cracked and the roots travel down into the strata.

He’s basking in the lava’s glow, watching them grow as He sings them growing, songs of themselves. Touch the soil within the earth, the dark places where our spirits travel and join with them in the Cosmic composting, constantly rotting — and one day there’ll be an oak, metasequoia, monkeypuzzle, sugar pine.

Plants will win! We lay in them, we fertilize them with our precious bodily fluids. We have picnics — frilly sunhats, swirling skirts! We fuck in the weeds . . . .

Chafed, so we remember the sweetness of it with the rough skin we carry for a few days . . . . Sharing the generative magick, sexual energy, and let the energy shared grow beyond what either could be alone. He’s dancing faster now . . . down through the millennia, the eons . . . baby boys birthing . . . .

Stories of the great trees, growing on those skybridges of sounds — Bridges over waters Issue Num ber 121

subterranean, smooth silky streams, cncks, waterfalls, oceans, rivers — He's dancing on, more and more.

Trees immobile, staunch in their stability, though once thev too traveled . .. and some still do — we merge with them in the Dance, as we do with all the colorful flowerv realm, all the cones and pistils and stamens and pollens — organs of sex, pure and lush — we're not so different from the plants, or the animals — He’s made it so we can’t not know that, can’t not feel it, the green the green, the growing green, coming up between cracks in the cement — are you really worried the plants won’t win out over the pavement someday? Not likely . . . He Laughs!

fabulisdc! — but just being born a faggot gives you a predilection, not a given. We're all Magick in our own ways, but we're not all shamans. Why would we be?

We each are being our own selves though .. . That Note — Stop, and Listen. It's in our souls . . . forever — that note, that connection, that dimming shared, exponentially expanding by the sharing . . . He whispers to us — Be Aware! It’s all Alive! Spinning.

Slow as lava flowing.

So many faces He has. Some of those newr ones are us. Seems he took some of those sounds, wove them together and formed the weave into faggots! What a fine dance, eh? So we’re born awakening, eyes open to the world. Newly born . . . Look in your mirror dearest. There’s His Twin/vour Twin, our Double. Double Lover, lust and trouble. Bifurcations abounding. But oh do they dance and sing so well together, always together, in love. Been dancing for a long time, moving as The Faggot Spirit moves in them, in every tribe, every culture ever, time and again, evolving into differences everywhere, always the Same . . always healing, always loving.

He walks Between and picks it up as he strolls along.

He’s inbred it in us all — some trick! Walking Between at the twilight and the dawn. Between spirit and flesh. Between it all. His song clear among them . . . So many tones . . . All in such grand Beauty. What a symphony, pure Reality!

We always have been all these things, so many notes in his complexity. Uniquely singing . . . All our creations — in faggotbodies with dangling dicks . . .

More than Temples — Pure incarnations of Spirit on Earth. What an Amazing Thing. What Fortunate Human Beings we are. How could we not love it? A Love Supreme! Always has been, down through time, ever evolving . . . Never not cruising . . . .

That Sound he First made when he opened his mouth.

That sound . . . so visceral, a vibration deep-felt like no other — bone deep, in the marrow. There’s the gentleness of it, vibrancy and strength. No pretense, no bullshit. Let it all go, and lie down over here and have a rip or a toke or a sweet kiss on yer bum, lad.

Feel it heal you. Feel the magic, we make it ( Hirsclves.

17 his bit of the song is over now, hut if yond tike to read the uhole Myth, go to the site below and on to the Radical I 'aeries ( tossiping website and follow it to the end and on to the Myth’s Site. | Blessed Be All Our Relations, — WhiteWolf Walks Between/ Phoenix stevenjwells@earthlink.net / www.stevenjwells.org

Racial Memory — Our Race! The Note heals, always has, always will. We’re all exquisite, enchanting, Spring 2005

21

I Dream of Allan Ginsberg

First I hate to say that my heart belongs to him. It doesn't. Only the original copy, which I ’ve kept.

Not that what 1 currently use isn’t valid.

My reshaped version made of clay I dug myself, out of a gravel Cliffside that made my fingers bleed.

This is the one I use.

But the one I grew up with, tattered there in the corner, I ’ve hung on golden cords, and now that I am touching it, pondering how7its ventricles pumped, it still seems livid. His name written in Sharpie around each red fold. Permanent marks he left each time he opened my cupboard to borrow my heart.

I can see the day he did it to me.

When he first stepped into third period trigonometry he slashed me exhaustedly in those seconds he asked for the keys.

My chest stood open. Trails of blood rivering down to my sugar.

Ilis whip dripping as I stretched for more.

And also one night, much later, when he fell asleep on my bed again. In the orange light left on. warm cozy cave glow, 1 opened my eyes and looked quietly as possible at his arm across my chest. His leg wrapped and rubbing. His lips were just below mine then, at my neck, kissing my pulse.

He must have loved my heart.

— Andrew Barter

you were just standing youthful and beardless something new about you in the dream not the bushy bearded wild man at first I didn’t know if it was really you in the dream but when I realized it was really you standing there just like that against the w all. . .

I was compelled to serve you and so — naturally; I dropped to my knees, slid your smooth tumescent penis into my mouth and began to suck awakening from the dream I wonder what do I wish to absorb in spurts and jets of jism and cum sticky Eucharist on my tongue?

The Wild Man in you? The visionary lineage of Walt Whitman? William Blake? of mad Tibetan monks chanting Tantric bone rituals? eternity unfolding all around you Allen Ginsberg Om Mane Padme Hum May all beings be well and happy dazzling molecules burning bright devotee of truth and light with courage most profound like standing in front of a moving train to block one more toxic dump of radium on Navajo sacred ground the dream ended before and I awoke before you could cum and so lets go back there you and I so that 1 can suck you dry Ya Hay — Oh Life! Ya Huck — Oh Truth! good to the very last drop and may be you can answer me wiiat 1 truly long to know what does it really mean this dream?

— Steven G. Solberg

22

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Issue N um ber 121

Fey History of the Queen City

by The Vegan Pcknta

Hello Girlz! O f course you know Seattle is famous for its most distinctive icon, the Space Needle, but how many of you know the rich Faerie history of the Emerald City? Not many 1 bet— too busy playing with poles and holes no doubt. Well dearies, grab hold of your crotch rocket for the fastest whirlwind ride through the Fey History of the Queen City!

First stop is Zc W 'bt\Kid^ an early ~0s performance troupe in Seattle instigated by former Cockette, Tomata du Plenty. Ze Kidz put on nearly 100 shows, were instrumental in re-invigorating the local arts, dance, punk, and gay scenes, and even opened for Alice Cooper.

1973 marks the first year an album of gay and lesbian country music was released, and, you know it, its those radical queers in Seattle who dared put out Lavender Country to benefit the Gay Community Social Services of Seattle, one of the oldest surviving Gay and Lesbian organizations in the country. My little chickadees, this music was so hot the FCC pulled the licenses of radio stations that had the balls (or ovaries) to play it! And speaking of fabulous fey music, how many of you know that Charlie Murphy (from the band Rumors of the Rig Wave) has for years been living on nearby Whidbey Island?

Next, if one gix's back to the early RED issues (circa 19~6- 19 ) one can see ads for the Morning Due: Journal of Men . Igfdnst Sexism, a bi-monthlv publication operating in the Seattle area. And let’s not overlook that cute little rag, the Tami Home Companion. Riding the “second wave” of 1 aerie awakening, the FI 1C was published quarterly (well sort of, vou know, Faeries are timechallenged) tor several years starting around 198"'.

No retro-spectacular would be complete without Faygele ben Miriam, quintessential Faerie and social activist. Faygele’s writings and presence can be found in many RI D issues, and a memorial library in his name is housed at the Seattle LGBT Community Center. Faygele was part of the ldwha Commune in Western Washington. 1le shepherded a couple issues of RFD and helped the magazine transition to what would be a long-time home at Running Water in North Carolina in 1978.

Ixst you be overwhelmed by such rich Fey history, we’ll conclude our tour by simply mentioning that filmmaker and poet extraordinaire lames Broughton lived with his lover Joel Singer in nearby Port Townsend on the Olympic Peninsula, located a few short hours northwest of downtown Seattle. The people of this town so loved and revered him, they’ve created the james Broughton Theatre located at the Port Townsend High School on Benton Street. Dig it, girl.

Time for re-entry, and there’s so many things we’ll have to save for another time: fairy bells and Romp Naked and the “Into the Wind” flags, banners, and windsocks and the Mother I lean Drum ( 'ircle and the old growth trees at Seward Park and . . . oh my dears, I'm verkUmpt! 'fill next time.

Yours Truly, — The I 'egan Polenta

Spring 2005

27

PLANT PROFILE

Oak: Hie Common Ancestor ty

January 25, 2005 l ull Moon The smell of an oak Fire brings me back . . . 1 don’t know, maybe lifetimes. There’s a crispness, a joyousness in the aroma, as if even in the degree of death necessary in oak before it can be absorbed into fire, there is also great life, an enthusiasm in its very being to join with Fire.

Anyone who relics on wood For heat in the winter knows that oak takes a long rime beyond its severing From its earthen life force before it’s “seasoned” or ready to burn. This means, on one level, it retains the life force for a time, even after we would consider it dead. Oak asks us to reconsider our notions of death, when things begin, and when they end.

My memories of another t ime recall a people who recognized this lingering life force and this wisdom of oak, enabling us to see life as a continuum of deaths and rebirths, rather than simply a small, inconsequential road to a great unavoidable end. . . . In the Naraya, a Shoshone dance for renewal, people circle around a tree representing the Tree of Life, which is usually symbolized by an evergreen — since they show an aliveness all year long, even in the dark of winter when, brown and leafless, other trees have the appearance of being dead. ( )ak teaches that all trees, green or not, standing or fallen, maintain a connection to life. As spring comes on, and greenness returns to the forest, this life all around us becomes more apparent.

As I write this, it is still winter here. The oak tree that fell less than Fifty feet from my home nearly a year ago has Finally seasoned enough to burn in my stove, 28

aFtcr cutting and splitting in the early Fall. Having spent probably close to three-quarters oF a century absorbing the Fires oF the sun (oaks like growing in the sun) and the nutrients oF the earth, it continues now, beyond its apparent passing, re-birthed as fire, bringing warmth and life to me, as I make my way through winter in the woods.

Clyde Hall, Shoshone elder and one oF the keepers oF the Naraya dance, wrote: “The sacred Fire at the center of the circle is the Fire oF no end. It is said that through the Fire we shall live again by being made pure and coming closer to the powers oF the Creator.” Oak and Fire have an intimate connection and, in the birth oF its smoke and ash, are borne the memories oF times be Fore, mothers to other children, manifestations of Spirit. . . . Peter Bane, a friend and permaculturist from North Carolina, once pointed out to me that our hundred-yearold barn was hewn of oak From trees that were probably close to a hundred years old when they were harvested for building. Once again, the life of the sun and the earth returns to us, prepared by nature and reborn into a life-giving sturdy force, and Finally a shelter that still stands.

Trees once seemed in such abundance, people thought little of clear-cutting acres and acres to assist our “progress” as a people. Today, oak is still highly sought after for its durability, seeming to get even tougher and more desirable with age. Often, wines Issue Num ber 121

and beers are “aged" in the confines of oak barrels.

What does “aging" mean in this case? Many of us shield ourselves from intense sun. as it tends to increase the effects ot aging, bringing wrinkles and, sometimes, skin cancer, a form of growth, out of control. Oak brings the energy of the sun and earth — in a gentle, measured way — to fermenting liquids, accelerating this “aging" process, and imparting to them what is sometimes called an “oak character."

If it can escape the lumberjack’s chainsaw, oak provides sustenance in other ways, acting almost as a building block for life, rebirth and transformation.

Once oak begins its slow return to the earth, mushrooms and other fungi find a comfortable home on its bark and tightly woven grains, feeding on its abundant nutrients. It seems joyously to offer this sustenance in the same way it offers itself as sustenance to fire when the time is right.

Medicinally, oak has been used as a traditional astringent. “Astringents contract or draw together organic tissues aiding in cell wall binding. This is particularly useful in wounds or abrasions to the skin,” according to herbalist, Stephen Harrod Buhner [Sacred Plant Medicine, p. 160]. In some Native traditions, oak medicine is associated with childbirth or the welcoming of life, and may also have been the most sacred tree of the Druids.

In the spirit world, time is mutable and, hence, inconsequential. Oak has a handle on time that we as human beings do not know, in some cases standing rooted to the ground for a thousand years or more.

Its ability to remain with us for many generations makes it an excellent bridge between the more recent occupants of this land, and those whose roots stretch back thousands of years on this very same land. As a spirit, oak maintains a wisdom that can help ease the tensions between the peoples of the land from which it grows, for its power is respected among the Native people of this land as well as the Druidic nature traditions of Europe. Like an elder of the tribe, it mediates between not only living people, but also the ancestors of cultures who are, or may have been, at odds with one another. Oak, with its ancient wisdom, provides building materials, not for our individual egos, not just to protect our bodies from wind and cold and moisture, but for a doorway to humble divine insight, a practical spiritual teaching pertinent to our mundane lives.

Spring 2005

Spider Once, while sleeping. I spied a place where mystical voices called out of darkness.

They travelled through beauty and space to where, in clusters of pods and flowers, appeared a white spider within one thumb-sized blossom: “Who goes there?” she asked in a cracking proud voice to the warm breath passing my amaze-parted lips. “ Tis 1!” said my voice (apart from my head), “Please forgive my intrusion, but you must understand, that I've come from afar, across water and land — to borrow a strand of your pearly white thread that 1 may tie some magic on my lover’s hand, a spell to bind him heart, foot and hand."

“Child . . . ” the grandmother spider replied to me softly (for she was indeed a frail, noble, old creature), “my web was made neither for hands, fingers, nor souls — but for hunting and shelter and riding the air.

Before you find yourself inside this man’s lifetime, consider an alternate plan if you care.”

“What 1 have in mind,” she said gesturing pink talons, “is making the time that you have with him fair, to let him, each season, outside your familiar and both of you change as each other would dare.”

“Allow him his ample permission. Beguile him with living and laughter and trust taught together, in tribes here exceeding my own brood would muster in webs woven strong for love comfort not snare.”

With that I could only amazed and dumbfounded utter pale thanks and depart from her lair.

Left to redemption I blessed her while dreaming and sought ever after for lovers to share.

— Whoretense

29

SPIRITUALITY

The Skull Project

Rosie Delicious

(/ iditor’s note 77 // : SKI I J _ PROJEC T was a three-weeklong interactive art installation in Sew York. The public was invited to participate by creating "skull eggs ” to commemorate those who have died in the current Iraq war. j Since 9/11/2001, we have been a nation at war. That fact has really pissed me off — and I wanted to respond in a wav that was effective and fey. Out of that anger, TH E SKULL PROJECT (or The SP for short) was born, l or me, The SP has been a path of inner transformation and outer manifestation of the sum totality of who I am. Never before in my life have 1 created something that has engaged all of my selves, making The SP a most exciting and scary endeavor. It is one that tricked me into outing myself as a priest whose art can serve the whole community.

As 1 have written within R I P ’s pages, my artwork is informed bv the ancient Ukrainian cultic practice of creating talismans from eggs, known aspysanky. Eggs universally symbolize new life because they have new life within their shells (if they are fertile). This potency informs my work — as 1 see eggs as events, not

30

merely objects. Even if drained of their contents, the shell is the memory of the event that that egg (with its possible new life) existed.

For the past few years I have been creating skull eggs as an extension of a series of human portraits on shells. In the summer of 2003, the New York limes ran a photograph on its front page of a pile of skulls disinterred from a mass grave of people killed by the Hussein regime. I had a very strong response to the photo, which led me to create sculptures made from mounds of skull eggs. I began to show these in galleries.

During this time, 1 was also thinking of working with eggs in public art installations. Sometime in December 2003, all these ideas fused into The SP. 1 do not remember exactly when — but 1 know it occurred within the framework of my usual masturbatory rituals (including the sacred weed) that tend to open me to conversations with ancestor guides. For this project — especially with regard to the political aspects involved — 1 felt guided primarily

Issue N um ber 121

bv our beloved Harry Hay and be Baba Raul Canrzares, my deceased Padrino who had initiated me into the mysteries of Santeria and Palo. Palo is a Congolese-based spint path that works primarily with the dead who are housed in ngangas, which are cauldrons filled with branches, stones, dirt and herbs.

Baba Raul had also been an artist and had enjoyed the manv eggs 1 had given him over the years. Baba Raul had taught us that ancestors have a wider field of vision of reality, allowing them greater insight into our lives. By dropping this project in my lap, these beloved ancestors handed me a project that wove together all the various threads of my personal, artistic and communal lives.

the public was asked to journey their completed skulls three times around this circle before laying their eggs on the mound(s) of their choice. Reflecting how humans separate each other politically by nation states, the piles of skulls were separated by nationality while on display.

During the planning process, 1 created a skull egg talisman tor my ancestor altar that was fed from time to time with my semen. As a self-acknowledged hedonist, giving up semen helps me focus mv intent.

Time spent simultaneously masturbating and focusing on the project allowed me to open to spirit guidance and problem-solve — as my own spirit was buoyed by the “TH E SKULL PROJECT pleasure 1 was sending through my body. Oftentimes, asked the public to worry is accompanied by a participate in a communal sense of being shutdown and the body is tight and cramped, ritual of understanding prohibiting creative thinking.

— of our civic Self-pleasuring can turn this state around with the flick of interconnections and our one’s wrist. In this way, The responsibilities as cidzens SP is a piece of sex magick.

The SP asked the public to participate in a communal ritual of understanding — of our civic interconnections and our responsibilities as citizens of the country that initiated this war.

As a public art ritual, it raised questions about the public’s moral responsibility for this conflict: where does the buck stop in a “democracy?” The of the country that Another aspect of sex magick commemoration of everyone that manifested The SP is the ini da ted this war.” killed in the war would be a first support 1 received from my step in taking responsibility — Circle of Loving Companions. for it would acknowledge that Without their help — I doubt these deaths even happened.

I could have manifested this ritual as easily. Major Too often the deaths of non-Americans, especially funding (including a timely loan), the website (thank foreign civilians, are seen only as statistics. The you to Hugger), extensive volunteer time, and key creation of skull eggs was an attempt to bridge this opening ritual roles were all provided without gap and make real the fact that many were dying. hesitation. 1 gleaned much wisdom and critical heartThe SP manifested in the cemetery yard at St. Mark’s space time and attention from the five other feys with Church-in-the-Bowery, which is the oldest whom I share my deepest feelings. I’ve written in the continuously used European religious site in NYC. past about how creating a small local collective that There was a large circle in the center of the yard circles regularly can bless one’s life with support, outlined in bricks. The opening ritual included a wisdom and intimacy. 1 thank my lucky stars that 1 sacred pipe led by Hugger. Lapis Luxury smoked the heeded Harry’s invitation to attend his sex magick ancestors daily (and during the closing ritual) in his workshops, for this circle is an outgrowth of that manner from his pipe. Rev. Julio Torres, the pastor of work and it feeds my spirit — and greatly facilitated this small but politically and socially minded this project, for instance, it was into this circle that 1 episcopal parish, gave us full support of the project first publicly talked about this project. and the rituals we employed in their cemetery yard.

A larger circle of support came from the faerie Participants were handed pre-dved black eggs community at large, locally and nationally. Collectively, (representing a death), which they were instructed to we have woven a complex network that buoys me paint with bleach to look like a skull. The instruction with love and mutual support. Every time I card was vague enough to allow each person his/her mentioned this project to a faerie friend across these own interpretation of how a skull should look. Then many miles, 1 received amazing feedback and Spring 2005

31

thousands of dollars in donations. Faerie Camp Destiny provided a non-profit umbrella over The SP, which made these donations tax-deductible, and greatly facilitated fundraising. 1 owe major thanks to Kndora for shepherding this collective through several hurdles to reach a Memorandum of Understanding to grant this tax-exempt status to The SP. Faerie Camp Destiny’s treasurer, Dan Herns, deserves canonization for his patience (with me) and understanding in doing the grunt work, as we processed several rounds of donations, which made funds available to this project in a timely manner.

1.apis Luxury honored The SP with his skillful service and loving presence. Because of our previous ancestor work together and my admiration for his efficacious witch-doctoring, I knew Lapis was the faggot to have on board to help create and hold the ritual space in which we’d serve the people who came to participate. Lapis taught me much about myself, my expectations and my relationship to the project, which was transformed by the hard work of the 22-day marathon. It was hard enough to be outside daily during what was a mainly chilly and wet October — while we were attending an on­ going ritual of commemoration that raised strong emotions and forced us to face our full selves in one of the darkest of mirrors.

One of these mirrors is racial relations — especially what gets projected onto whom and why. This white boy (me) got to see new things through the lenses that Lapis’ sharing on these issues provided. Tones and textures of shade and meaning are conveyed so subtly that we in pink pigmentation often miss — and therefore do not acknowledge and/or attempt to correct. Ms. Luxury’s reactions ranged from patient abiding to righteous indignation — and through it we created the NIA (Negro Information Agenda) — and you’d better be agitating for a chapter in your local scene soon.

We burned bags and bags of sage, smudging the space and ourselves many times daily. We kept daily diaries to clear our heads of the events and feelings we encountered. We experienced the sum totality of 32

the all — the best and worst in ourselves — and others as we watched the piles of skull eggs grow. We even spun out a HUGE DRAMA with folks in our Santena lie that coincided with the full lunar eclipse that happened late in October. (We’ll leave the details of that story to oral tradition!) And we got to sit and talk with hundreds of folks from all ages, races and various diversities about this war, these times, and life in general. While we were dealing with matters often very intense — we endeavored to minimize the “Woo-woo” that often befalls well-intended rituals.

Approximately 1,059 individuals produced over 1,500 egg skulls. 1 was amazed at the artistry manifested in these eggshells. It was gratifying to see how people poured their hearts into each skull egg. Each skull was unique, each with an expression that conveyed emotions and intent.

Piled together they have become a powerful evocauon of a community whose love and concern have been channeled through this project.

By remembering their lost lives, we allowed ourselves the opportunity to reflect on the human toll. The SP became a consecrated site where the public could acknowledge that these deaths have occurred and mourn. While these deaths are a terrible loss, their commemoration offers hope, as we witness the love and goodness that ordinary citizens can manifest when called to participate in creating a new worldview.

What remains is a bundle of skull eggs, which are sitting in a demarked space in my basement — a place of medicine, where 1 am able to go to for meditation on death. It has been dark and smelly and cold down there as I continue to smudge and pray in this place of delicate in-between ness, listening to how 1 might continue this work and make it available in other cities in this country. Would you help manifest The SP in your town?

Go to umnv.theskullproject.com for further reading and to look at images on the gallery pages.

Issue Num ber 121

It started with an innocent question several years ago.

An email was sent to the group saying that someone was thinking about “1ily” as their Faerie name. They wanted to know what kind of ritual was needed to claim the name as their own. The replies given developed into a ritual that involved spanking as part of the process. Anyone who knows the folks replying knew that tongues were firmly planted in cheeks (but if the person wanted to follow through. I'm sure that they wouldn’t have argued with the decision).

Unfortunately, the person didn't know these faeries and their sense of humor and we never saw another posting from the individual.

Over the years, variations of this question have arisen.

“How do 1 take a Faerie Name?" and “How do 1 become a Radical Faerie?" The spanking ritual usually gets mentioned. A newer variation has surfaced that substitutes spanking with chocolate syrup. On more ornery occasions, the two merge into a giant chocolate and spanking ritual. Double sigh . . . no one has taken us up on these suggestions. This left us with the question of, how do we as a tribe help folks acknowledge the transition into Faeriedom? There is strong evidence that people need some form of symbol to mark the occasion. We have it with most of the other milestones in our lives (graduations, weddings, even funerals), so why not something to help welcome a new member of the family? In the discussion that followed several ideas were tossed around. The one that seemed to resonate with the participants was to create a tribal cord. As people joined the tribe, thev could add some kind of bead to the cord that would symbolize themselves. As they claimed a name or changed names, they could add a bead that represents that name. In this manner, they physically link a piece of themselves to the history of the tribe. Members of the tribe could add beads to symbolize events that the tribe did, marking milestones in the tribe’s collective history as well.

On the Full Moon in August, six members of the tribe met to create the cord. We gathered at DragonSwan’s nest to make our beads. We encouraged people to make their beads, putting their own energy into the creation of the bead since these were to be symbols of themselves. It didn’t matter if the person was an artistic genius. The bead could be as simple as a round ball of a particular color that was special to them. The bead could be a flat disk that they carved a design into — like a rune. The bead Spring 2005

could be a representation of their 1 aerie name. A bead didn’t have to be made ot the polyclay that we were using. One person brought peach pits that they drilled so that they could be included on the cord as part of their symbol. Fach bead was to be as unique as the person making it.

The Faeries were encouraged to make three beads that day. One to represent their past, another for their present and the third for something that they want to bring into their future. The beads were carefully made and each is a work ot art on its own. There is a bird, two turtles by two different people for different reasons, an egg, a mushroom with a dragonfly, and a flower among the initial offerings. A single bead was jointly made by three faeries, using scraps from their own beads. A penis bead was made to symbolize not only the male energy that was present, but to celebrate the two skyclad members.

After the beads were cool enough to handle, it was time to start building the cord. Three strands of jute were cut.

One is white to represent the Maiden and our past. The second is red to represent the Mother and our present.

The third is black to represent the Crone and our future.

The three cords were tied together with a single faerie bead. The process of adding beads is simple — first, the “past" bead is strung on the white cord and a commercial bead is strung on both the white and red, linking past to the present. Next, the “present” bead is strung on the red cord and another linking bead is strung on the red and black cords, connecting present and future. The “future” bead is then strung on the black cord. A final connecting bead is strung on all three cords.

Each person was encouraged to embellish as they felt called, but the process was the same. As each person added his or her beads, I could feel the energy connecting us along its length.

Since that night, more beads have been added representing our activities. We had a dinner on September 11. A plane shaped bead was added for the past, a shield with the symbol for Mars, for the present and a rainbow disk with glow in the dark symbols for peace and love for the future. A bead has been added with a picture ot our Mahon 1larvest Mandala.

It is a beautiful sight and a powerful reminder of the connection we have with each other. Now, when someone asks, we have something to offer. Anti if they want chocolate syrup and/or spanking as part of the event, I’m sure that can be arranged too.

35

HEATHEN HARVEST

b\' Malahki R. Thom.

Interview with Coil, Apnl 2(XW Coil, for those not familiar, are a radical queer duo that has been producing eclectic and esotenc electronic music for over two decades. 1laving l^egun their musical careers with the infamous industrial band, Throbbing Cins tie, the duo is known globally as founding members of the current post-industrial music scene.

Heathen Harvest: Coil has new been making music for two decades. 1las the band met or exceeded your previous expectations? Did you ever expect that you would last this long and have such an impact on the music scene and its listeners?

Peter Sleazy Christopherson: I don’t think I had any expectations — CC)11. was just something Jhonn (Balance) asked me to help with and was fun, so our success and longevity has definitely exceeded them!

11H: Does Coil realize the impact they have had on queer youth in ‘the scene?’

release themselves from the ili-firung box their parents put them in — to let them know they are not alone.

That’s more than enough reason for Coil (and any honest artistic gay venture) to exist.

Jhonn Balance: Again, it was experiences such as bunking off from school and going to watch (Pier Paolo) Pasolini’s ‘SALO’ with my friend, Tom, all on our own in a cinema in Oxford; or again, like Peter, discovering William Burroughs’ books, picked up in cheap paperback editions at jumble sales. (The thrill and subversion of being sold these wonderful culture bombs by the wife of the local vicar, one of her friends, made exchange all the more enchanted). 1 was hugely and powerfully and completely overwhelmed and willingly succumbed and seduced and ‘led astray;’ most joyfully seduced and enticed and molded and influenced and bent and shaped by these powers of transformation, information, inflammation and illumination. Dark angels whose shadows shine brightly still.

PSC: I do think its incredibly important for young gay terns to have t he chance to discover for themselves that the world is not the way their parents and school are telling them.

H H : Coil has been unflinching in drawing inspiration from the band member’s sexuality. Many songs, album titles, etc., deal with concepts of homosexuality and homoerotic spiriaiality. Has Coil ever felt a resistance from their audience when explonng such intimate themes?

That opportunity for me came when 1 found a copy of William Burroughs’ Naked I jmcb, in WH Smith’s in Pontefract, on a Saturday afternoon-release from boarding school. 1must have been fourteen. Standing in the deserted book section at the back of the shop, Burroughs’ drug-crazed, gorgeously-crude words burned into me, and for the first time I knew somebody else felt and saw the world the way 1 did.

PSC: Fortunately, there is some quality of music as an art form that does not engender resistance — if people feel uncomfortable, they just move in a different direction — Coil is certainly ‘for the few’ rather than the many. We have occasionally had problems with ‘fans,’ but generally, they were people who felt ‘too much’ empathy, rather than not enough.

1Iopefully, you know what I’m talking about, ‘cos it has already happened to you. It is a fantastic life-changing moment.

If Coil have had that same impact on anyone else’s life, 1 feel honored and humble.

Pierce and Massimo are sweet, talented (and handsome!) and it what they say is true, then 1 am delighted to have sleaziiy effected their development.

Seriously — most of us are not likely ever to have the responsibility7for helping our own kids grow up and make their way in the world, but I think we owe it to the fledglings who will come after us — our gay children, if you like — to make sure that clues to the nature of the real world are out there — to give them the keys to 54

JB: We may be ‘for the few7,’ but there’s more than quite a few of us. On the few occasions when I’ve noticed when I personally may have transgressed even the ‘transgressive’mindset, for instance when talking about earing human afterbirth.

H H : At one point in the bands not too distant past, the lineup was stated as being comprised exclusively of homosexuals. I believe this was around the rime ThighPaulSandra joined Coil’s ranks. How did such an exclusively queer lineup affect Coil, its music and the intent of the band?

PSC: 1 don’t feel there is any reason why Coil should be composed exclusively of members of the same sexual persuasion — often, it is not.

Issue N um ber 121

Ma\'bc when it is, the tour bus leans dangerously the same way when we pass someone cute — that's about it.

Spinrual or philosophical empathy is more important to me, in who 1 work with, than who you want to sniff.

H H : 1 las Coil ever felt acknowledged o r accepted by the larger m ainstream queer com m unity?

HH: Coil was once known tor never appearing live. In the last couple of years, the band has released a barrage of live concerts on CD. What changes brought about Coil's recent concert tours?

HH: ( 'an you give us a look into your crystal ball? Are there any new releases on the horizon Coil fans should be anticipating?

PSC: ThighPaulSandra (contnbudng member of Coil), who we met in the late 90s, suggested that we should play live again — if left to our own devices, we probably would be far too reclusive for our own good — out of shyness and laziness mostly. He overcame the objections we had to the potential traumas of playing in front of an audience and to the rigors of travel. As it happened, computer technology had, at the same time, reached the stage where we could play our sort of music freshly each time, rather than repeat the same show over and over.

HH: 1 want to go back just a bit in time to discuss Jhonris struggle with alcohol and the move to the country. Many of our readers either live in large cities or have sought back-tothe-land living as a remedy to big city gay life. Jhonris recovery from alcoholism and the move to the country seemed to coincide. Was jhonris battle with alcoholism and his city life related?

How has moving to the country affected his recovery?

PSC: 1 wall leave Jhonn to answer that as, ironically, he is currently enjoying living in London again, with artist lan Johnstone. For myself, 1 had mixed feelings when we first moved out of the big city — as a kid it had represented Opportunity (for sex as much as anything) but having made the break, 1 now hate to go back. In the city, 1 feel pressure to achieve, and to console myself for the unpleasantness of being there, whereas in the quiet of the country, 1 can get on with the things 1 enjoy (work included) without worrying . . . I don’t think my own particular addictive behaviors are affected by location one way or the other.

Spring 2005

PSC: Na

PSC:The ANS box set wall be out soon, as well as 1JYHDYDS. We wall be working on new material soon.

Some people have speculated that since Jhonn and 1 arc no longer “bt "s, and have been quoted in public as wanting to live at some distance (him in D>ndon and Cumbria — me in the Far East) that this may effect the future of Coil — well, it obviously wall in ways yet to be determined. Hut we have no plans for a Coil Split, and we continue to find stimulation and excitement in what we both bring to our musical collaboration. So don’t worry on that account. Coil endures.

HH: Lastly, 1 would like to invite you to come anonymously to one of our many Radical Faerie Gatherings. It is a magical experience to join in spirit and autonomous community with like-minded queers.

PSC: Thank you, I’d like that!

In the past 1 have felt a very English Outsider reluctance to join in wdth any group or community, especially one with any kind of an ‘agenda’.

Fortunately, die recent time 1 have spent in the East has brought me, to a place where I can now appreciate how important (and beneficial to me as well as others) sharing, encouraging like*-minded souls can be.

Do you have a branch in Thailand yet? Maybe 1 can start one!

In Memory of jhonn balance 1962 - 2004 1leathen I larvest is seeking new blood and is currently recruiting music editors for numerous musical genres.

Please visit umw.heathenharvest, com to contact Malahki if you have an interest in reviewing music or conducting interviews with musicians.

35

Queer music can go anywhere and these four discs show varied slices of what’s out there. I want this column to cover the whole range of queer musicians and entertainers and am always ready to review discs in any genre especially, but not exclusively, selfproduced independent artists, from the bedroom to the drag bar. Send review discs, supporting materials, and recommendations to: RI D queer music attn: leopard Box 68, Liberty, TN 37095 jvoodroot@hotmail.com

Abbalicious by Various Artists / Figjam Records Back in the seventies, as a young teenager before discovering either gay sex or my own gay sensibility, 1 had one great love — Abba! My obsession with the Swedish super-group was one of the reasons 1 was tagged as “different” at school. While the other boys praised the virtues of The Clash or were pogo dancing to The Sex Pistols I held onto the belief that Abba’s layered production, clear vocals, and shiny pop life could take me everywhere 1 wanted to go. As my horizons broadened so did my musical tastes and for several, years my ‘abba-ration’ haunted me until suddenly the group were hip in a high camp fashion and being recognized for the pop masters they had been. Vindicated at last! I began to realize they had been playing and writing for the gay audience, with songs like “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” and “VoulezVous,” as much to the “ages 8 to 80” family fan base that my school mates assumed.

To further prove this point, producer Don Dilego has created a very gay celebration of Abba hits by inviting nine of NYC’s finest drag queen singers to give their all on a collection of 14 of the group’s hits. Hedda 1.ettuce raps out about a sleazy night halfway through “Gimme! Gimme!”; “Super Trouper” is stripped down to its anthemic bones by Betzy; there’s a housey “S.O.S.” (Joie Stern) and “Take a Chance on Me” (Cashetta); and a great lounge-act “Waterloo” by Edie.

Certainly some of the songs are fairly standard versions and a little more outrageousness would have created a fuller effect, bur the camp and the nightclub stage is always in there, while the glossy foldout CD sleeve featuring the girls in all their decked out gloriousness leave no doubt about what’s going on.

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The most outstanding reworking and slice of drag-ola! has to be Yolanda and Hedda as the Chixie Dix giving us a little story before their country version of “Dancing Queen” which concludes with a tambourine driven hoedown chorus reprieve! Yolanda also excels with her version of “Lay All ’lour Dive on Me,” this radical faerie entertainer showing off her skill as an accomplished song interpreter with an exuberant willingness to take an old standard to new places.

This album would be great for a summer party or a drive to the beach, with enough spark to lighten up even the most “heard ‘cm all ready” Abba-cynic. www.filament, cow

TearMe Together byJustin Tranter/ 3111Verse Records Super 8 Cum Shot by Jinx Titanic / Big Dixie Justin Tranter is described by OutMusic as “the savior of queer music.” It is clear that his second CD, a follow-up to the OutVoice.net award-winning “Scratched” (2003), will be edgy from the cover artwork that features the singer in several photos of various death scenes. Clearly this could put off many listeners who would, unfortunately, miss out on a very passionate and tender, if gritty and certainly not easy, collection of love songs. Tranter’s love is not your typical affair, opening with the line “You might want to watch your step ‘cos I was born without a gag reflex,” and containing such titles as “River you, Mud me” and “Kill me Close.” It is obvious from the cover concept that his work is contextualized by an awareness that the world is full of unjust war and murder. However, the album ends with “Good Luck with your Armageddon” and its hook “ . . . if it’s coming 1 don’t want to be running, I want to be laughing and loving and touching and living,” a sentiment that seems to be the drive behind the whole lively energetic and deliciously desperate danger of all that has been expressed before.

The performer, who has become a local sensation in NYC and has started “Musicians with a Mission,” a scholarship fund for GLBT youth, and also heads a communitv-based open mic in the city, is out to shake up the scene. With clear strong vocals and a tight band of crashing guitars, pop piano jams, and orchestral drama reinforcing his poetic vision, this CD is recommended as Issue N um ber 121

much for the subtie h u m or as for the dark fire that m ust be burning in his queer heart.

Another queer rocker is leather dude Jinx Titanic from Chicago, the lead singer with a band of the same name. Sexy, rough and tough $M-oriented songs, none of which can be taken too seriously, with an unabashed hard rock driving sound make up Super 8 Cum Shot’. Originally the provocative album title was the band name but in the hope of radio play linx changed the name to his own as stations wouldn’t play their tracks. Such are the compromises queer artists are still confronted with. Still, most of these songs could only find a home on the most out-there internet stations, 1 imagine, as the tracks sing of loving boys, bois, raunchy homos, late night pick-up trade and daddys (“Daddy when you were in jail were your legs over vour head?”). Each track is also interspersed, to great effect, with explicit sound bites from bad porno, probably 70s super 8s rather than anything from Catalina.

The album is a dirty, piggy scene but everyone’s having fun. Indeed in the heavy beats and grungy guitars is such a joy of the wildness of sweaty fucking that queers who are into this kind of music must go wild for it. This music is a refreshing change for anyone who just w^ants to rock out occasionally.

Insatiable, delightfully crude and reveling in the iconography of sleazy back rooms and home-built basement dungeons Jinx Titanic serve up a juicy collection of short, amusing “head” banging moments. unvw.Justin l ranter. com nmnv.superHcumshot. com

Steve Snelling“Perfect Strangers” DirklandProductions With thirty years of playing under his belt, mostly in sophisticated jazz, this album, recorded partly at UNC Spring 2005

(where Snelling undertook a Masters in music) and at his own recording studio in the remote mountains of Colorado, is both beautiful and challenging. The music is based around his piano that has a satisfying yet understated touch and is supported by a walking fretless bass and gentle drums throughout the collection. These lengthy and carefully composed songs are evocative and at times wrenching, like the touch of a lover so light it makes you shudder and wish they might just pinch vou. The relief comes with quiet textural additions created by musical samples woven into the music. The pinch is in the intelligent lyrics that reveal the maturity of a performer who has explored many art forms and vet has always returned to music.

His smooth un-self conscious voice invites the listener to view his acutely perceptive understanding of the frailties of people caught in a society ot isolation and easily generates a sense of love and tenderness towards those he chooses to give voice to. In this way the music is a healing, even shamanic act, recognizing music and songwriting as a special gift to the w'orld where the attentive listener may find a sympathetic and encouraging voice that reminds us of the suffering of others and the hope that the love that can connect us all can offer.

The subject matter may seem bleak: the loneliness of faces on the train; dirty wars on TV; facing the death of friends; a personal near-death experience in the desert; and saying “1 love you" to a boyhood friend causing the end of their furtive trysts. Yet hope comes in the simple connections we make, such as humor in the daily newspaper cartoons (“but tor the likes of Lynda Barry”) and hearing from an old friend (“Postcards from Diane”).

Steve Snelling intends to tour to support this album, I am sure the songs will take on a whole other level of magic when sung live in an intimate setting. As an album 1 feel “Perfect Strangers” comes alive most on a dark moon night alone with some candles, incense, and a willingness to be taken gently into our genuine sadness. wwwstevesne/ling. com 37

BOOK REVIEWS Dining at the linem ans Shack

by John Weston University of Arizona Press 225 pages SI 7.95 Reviewed fry Steven LaVigne The cookbook as memoir probably began in 1959, when Alice B. Toklas’ collection of recipes included one where she suggested serving, at a DAR Meeting, hashish fudge as a snack. John Weston’s memoir, Dining at the 1Jneman s Shack., doesn’t serve up such confections, but it’s a lovely book, and there are some fascinating recipes as well.

The book is, essentially, a loving tribute to his mother, Eloine, who raised Weston and his siblings in a remote desert shack during the Great Depression.

Like Steinbeck’s Joad family, Weston brilliantly captures life in Skull Valley, Arizona. Eloine had the remarkable knack of transforming whatever foodstuffs were available into culinary delights.

Among the surprising menu items Weston describes are Calves’ Brains and Scrambled Eggs, and Rabbit Jerky. Reared in the South and trained in the preparation of Southern cooking, Eloine could disguise the more questionable fare as creatively as possible, making it exceedingly edible. Weston serves up the actual recipes for Mountain Lion Barbacoa, Margarita’s Yam Souffle, Paste/de Choclo (Rodeo Pie), and Miss Ruby’s Cupcakes. One hopes that Eloine’s cooking pleased her diners in the manner that Toklas’ delighted the robust Picasso and intimidated Hemingway.

Following the death of her husband, a miner referred to simply as “the dad,” Eloine moved her family to Prescott, Arizona and embraced Southwestern cuisine, including a love for chili peppers. Weston even includes authentic recipes for salsa and chili sauce. The loss of his father deeply affected him, and for a time, Weston fantasized his father’s return, hoping their relationship would grow and change. O f course, this was never to be.

From chapter to chapter, Weston makes constant connections and strongly focuses on the presentation of his memories, much as a fine restaurant will focus on the presentation of a featured dish. Weston eventually escaped his Arizona childhood, rearing a 38 Issue Num ber 121

family, teaching and writing. (His novel, Hail, Hero!, was filmed in 1969, serving as Michael Douglas’ film debut.)

Alice B. Toklas lived in Paris with her “longtime companion,” Gertrude Stein for 29 years, and her recipes are heavy with cream and butter. I’ve had little success with them. Eloine’s recipes are more accessible. Weston has settled with his own “longtime companion,” Jim, in Palm Desert, California. A genuine taste treat, Dining at the Linemans Shack, should be a prime addition to your summer reading list.

[Editor’s note: The Joy of Cooking, a family cookbook as memoir, was first published in 1931.]

Alexander the Fabulous: The Alan Who Brought the World to its Knees

by Michael Alvear and Vicky A. Shecter Advocate Books/Alyson (2004) 200 pages SI 1.96 (softbound) Reviewed by Marc M iliner Once, long ago — and for the only time in history — the “known” world was ruled by one man: Alexander the Great. Considered to be one of the greatest military generals ever, he conquered the world by leading his vast army through 22,000 miles of battles (on foot, no less). But, hey, you can learn that from any history book. What you won’t learn (and probably won’t see in Oliver Stone’s movie) is that Alexander was a man-loving, cross-dressing drama queen who frequently burst into hydrogen-powered catfights. For that you have to turn to the newest (and most unusual) book written about the legendary

hero: Alexander The f abulous: The Man 11"bo Brought The World To Its Knees.

Authors Michael Alvear (Men are Pigs but 117 Lore Baron) and Vicky A. Shecter have written the first historically accurate comic biography of Alexander the Great. Some of their claims are so over the top you’d think they made them up. Like the one about Alexander doing drag. Apparently he loved to dress up as Artemis, Greek goddess of the hunt. A quick fact-check confirmed that the ancient writer Ephippus described the drag shows in detail.

Alexander also loved to dress up in the girlie flowing robes of the Persian kings he vanquished.

Here’s where the authors shine. They'll take a known fact like that and send it up with hysterical scenarios.

Take a peek: “The Macedonians criticized Alexander for ‘going Persian’. You were supposed to plunder, pillage, and rape the people you conquered, not prance into their dressing rooms and see if they had anything in your size. Resentment simmered. Every time the Macedonians brought the subject up, Alexander put them off, saying, ‘I know we need to talk but first, do you like my shoes?’ ” This kind of juxtaposition between ancient facts and modern musings makes the book a page-turner.

In talking about Alexander’s life-long love affair with Hephaestion, for example, the authors cite ancient Cynic philosophers who wrote, “Alexander was only defeated once, and that was by Hephaestion’s thighs.”

That’s funny enough, but the authors go further, saying Alexander’s relationship was so hot, “whenever Hephaestion came over, his bedroom sounded like half-off day at the liposuction center.” When describing his legendary vanity, in a chapter utled, “Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who’s the Prettiest Conqueror of Them All?”, the authors point out that Alexander was the first warrior to shave. Alexander always rationalized his shaving as a combat advantage: it the enemy couldn’t grab you by the beard, he’d have a harder time killing you. But the skeptical authors turn a gimlet eye on Alexander’s official explanation: “Historians have waved their bullshit detector over that one and can’t decide. Let’s just say there’s a whole school of thought that says Alexander didn’t like hair on his face for the same reason Narcissus didn’t like ripples in the w ater— it got in the way of the view.”

The writers get a tad more serious in the chapter covering Alexander's military exploits (“From Readvto-Wear to Ready-forWar”). The descriptions of the battle scenes and his brilliance at outwitting his enemies are as tunny as they are educational. But after dazzling us with his victories, the authors remind us of a crushing irony: “ History’s greatest military leader could not serve in today's armed forces.”

The book is uneven in spots. The humor is sometimes unnecessarily crude, and the authors occasionally get repetitive. (For example, using the same story to show Alexander’s penchant for drinking then repeating it in the chapter about his “plutoniumgrade" temper tantrums.) Sometimes the comic devices soar, like the timeline section, and other times they fall flat — the illustrations are juvenile and add nothing to the story, while the map of Alexander’s trail doesn’t have a funny thing on it. Still, Alexander the Fabulous will make y o u wonder why all books on historical figures can't be this entertaining.

The following books are available to review: Non Fiction: Shirt of Flame: The Secret Gay A rt of War, by Ko Imani; Remembering Heraclitus, by Richard Geldard GLBT Family Studies: Innovations in Theory, Research and Practice, Volume # 1 2005 Coyote Healing: Miracles in Native Medicine, by Lewis Mehl-Madrona Fiction: Bless the Thugs and / jl ChiInns, by Frcdryk Traynor; The Ram Stam Boys: linglish Schoolboy Novel by Chris Kent Seven Sweet Things: Cay Male I irotica with Sensual Recipes,

by Shaun Levin 1dght Before Day, by Christopher Rice Whose hye is on Which Sparrow, by Robert Taylor.

Poetry: Soft Slow Motion by Dixie Schneil

Spring 2005

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POBox68. Liberty.

Relationship Wanted. I’m Cornelius Washington. I’m African-American, 45 years old, 5’ 10 1/2”, 155 pounds, bald, pierced, tattooed, sexually versatile. My hobbies are dancing, reading, TV, and photography.

I'm seeking a serious relationship with a man who is honest, stable, athletic, sincere, and also sexually versatile. Age, race, doesn’t matter, but I’m basically only interested in men in the LA/San Diego area.

Sorry, no prisoners. Will exchange photos and letters.

I’m looking for true love. You should be, too.

840 N. Rampart, Box 24, New Orleans, LA 70116 1li, my name is Rob Abbott. I’m 51 bur look about 40. I’m on a spiritual journey and looking for someone to share it with. I enjoy reading, all types of music — from classical to classic rock.

I am looking for someone around 35 and up to 55.

You will want to be on a spiritual journey, looking for what could be a long-term relationship. Should like outdoor things, interesting conversation, no need to be a fitness buff. I like tall slender men, but a few extra pounds are okay. Should be self supporting.

Rob Abbott, 70 New Street, Apt. 6, Johnson City, TN 37601 (423) 773-7220

1 am a mature, pre-op TS and have enclosed my photo and would desire to correspond with any and all fellow subscribers. All letters will be answered.

Nonnye S. k., PO Box 1226, Oak Hill, FL 32758

37095 Hi all — I’m looking for a partner. A life-mate. For Real. Rather than wnting it all out here I’d like to invite any and all to check my websites. Go to www.stevenjwells.org and you’ll come to the hub of the wheel with listings of the sites I’ve built. They’ll give you a pretty complete picture of my parts, but there’s more to me when you put it all together. Especially, please read Steve’s Compassionate Desires for Love. It has all my particulars, and yours too maybe. That’d be nice.

Sweet kissez and hugz, Phoenix/WhiteWolf Walks Between pboenix-is@earthlink.net / 206-324-5113 I am a 52-year-old gay white male. I do stand at 5’6”.

And I do weigh 180 pounds! 1 do have salt and pepper hair, green eyes and my birthday is on November 16! 1 was born in the year 1952. I am a Scorpio! I do love to have sex and 1 do love to have fun! 1 do have a 7 inch cock. It is thick. I am cut. I am very hairy, and I am HIV-negative! I do love nudity, gay porno videos, gay porno magazines, travel, theatre, music, and meeting people of all races! My home telephone number is 856-616-1979. My home address is Eddie Green, 231 North Evergreen Avenue, Apt. 45-A, Woodbury, NJ 08096-4840.

Please do send photo. Nude photo. Return address and phone number. I will answer all lettters.

City Slickers, Fantasizing about life and sex in rural America, this ghostwriter will ghostwrite your rural fantasies, title each one, and send them to you free of charge. .All in the third person. Where, when and with whom do you want vour titled fantasies in the third person sent? Details.

Your first and last name and address required and please print or type. Thank you very much.

John Maxwell, 8 Cowpath, Denver, PA 17517-9016

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Issue N um ber 121

PRISON PAGES

by Uyrlrn

As I sit and write this column, 1 am looking out my window past the many ladybugs moving about on the panes, at a beautifully wooded hillside bathed in sunlight. No upright bars — only trees awaiting a new shroud of leaves to turn the hillside a dazzling green.

As I look, my mind turns to the swirling names of institutions and inmates that 1 encounter daily in mv work with the Brothers Behind Bars programs, l or so many of our brothers and sisters, such a simple sight is far from their reality. It is such a joy to know that, because of this column and the BBB List, some of these folk have an opportunity to share hopes and dreams with some of our readers. Regardless of what the institutions may throw in their paths, you, our readers can offer the ray of hope that something else exists for them besides the despair they often feel.

Over the Top Stories First, one of our readers brought to my attention the fact that Florida inmates are no longer able to receive mail that results from an inmate having placed a pen­ pal ad. 1 was just becoming aware of this because my mail from BBB was being returned with a nice NEW Florida Rule Sheet, dated in November of 2004, with one highlighted rule concerning banned correspondence reading: “Correspondence or materials frompersons orgroups marketing advertising services, or from subscribing to advertising services. In order to be consistent, even religiouspen-pal ads must be rejected” My suggestion to those who would write Florida inmates is to be aware of this situadon and be discreet in your introduction.

Ultimately, 1 think this is one of those rules that will be challenged by the inmates themselves, and possibly the ACLU will get involved.

Secondly, I just got word concerning a longtime friend of mine who has been released on probation to the State of North Carolina (from Wisconsin,) with a stipulation for his remaining our of prison being the continuation of an ongoing treatment program while in North Carolina. There is a strong possibility he will be going back to prison, simply because he has no way of paying the SI40 per week for treatment. The Stare of North Carolina will not help with these costs.

So, it is up to his lower income family or friends to come up with these funds.

Programs You Can Be Involved In An Easy But Crucial Wav to Support Your Brothers & Sisters Behind Bars!

A great need for prisoners is quality reading materials, and this is especially true for queer prisoners who generally have little or no access to books that reflect their lives and experiences. Many prisons do not have libraries, and those that do usually have a limited selection of books. Many prisons do not allow family and friends to mail books to prisoners. Many prisons only allow books directly from publishers or bookstores. Because of these circumstances, queer prisoners, especially indigent ones, have very limited opportunities to get the books they want most.

One solution to the problem is books-to-prisoners programs. The Prison Book Program in Boston gives priority to queer prisoners who request books. We also offer a resource list specific to queer prisoners, in addition to our National Prisoner Resource 1.ist.

Unfortunately, we are struggling to keep our shelf of queer books fully stocked! YOUR 1IF1.P IS NEEDED! Prison Book Program is seeking donations of newish, paperback books by, for, and about gay, bisexual and trans folks. Fortunately, we are well stocked in lesbian books. We are not able to accept magazines or hardcover books since many prisons will not allow them in.

Do you have a pile of books, queer or otherwise, you were going to donate elsewhere or sell at the used bookstore? Consider donating them to Prison Book Program! You can even get a tax deduction since we are a non-profit organization with 501 (c)3 status, just ask for a receipt when you send the books.

For more information about Prison Book Program and its work, a copy of our queer resource list or our National Prisoner Resource List, email us at info@prisonbooksprogram.org,, visit our website at www.pnsonbookprogram.org. or drop a note to: ATTN: Debbie Prison Book Program 1306 Hancock St. Suite 100 Quincy, MA 02169

Anything to make life a bit more unbearable.

[Editor’s note: Write-up provided by Debbie of PHP1

Spring 2005

41

Make a Change Through Active Involvement I just thought I would bring to your attention another organization focusing on National and Local Prison Issues, especially on Parole Reforms, Closing Prisons and Shifting Public Opinion regarding prisons. 1 first met this group while attending their Southern Regional Conference in New Orleans in 2002. The organization is: Critical Resistance 1504 f ranklin Street, Suite 504 ( )akland, CA 94612 Tel 510-544-0484, Fax 510-444-2177 crnationaKg),criticalresistance. org www.criticalresistance. org.

Inmate Contributions One of the great joys that 1 have as editor of this column, and of the BBB List program, is having the opportunity of receiving internal glimpses into the lives of our Brothers Behind Bars, not only through their descriptions of daily life in the institutions, but more so through their artistic creations. These take the forms of poems, drawings, erotic stories, coming out tales and the like. Loneliness and the desire for love infuse many of these writings and clearly show why pen friends in the outside world are so important. Many times just being able to share these things with someone else helps one of these guys open up and deal with personal things that have been left bottled up inside for years. Oftentimes this is the key to a new beginning and a transition to more responsible ways of dealing with problems or life situations. 1 am delighted, therefore, to share with you some of the contributions 1 have received. 1 trust they will be of interest, regardless of the quality of writing.

Poetic Soul Andre' 1) Boyd

Through emotions so strong it becomes an adversary.

Basic paths turn into concourses of mazes.

Labyrinths of intellect and energetic phases, Reaching within to destroy all that has been forgotten.

Destroying decomposed dreams grown weary and rotten.

Searching now for a new level of spirit already gone cold.

These are just the talents of vivid mind and poetic soul.

(Created 7-22-04) Andre’ D Boyd (DRE5) #1045465 M Stiles Unit 3060 FM 3514 Beaumont, TX 77705 LIntitled Michael Cheskey Many around yet all alone; My thoughts and feelings kept inside.

Branded different sets the tone; It helps to run and try to hide.

My anger and pain do not cease; They keep a hold and never go.

Trying to fight and find release; It’s most unfair this constant woe.

I search and seek to no avail; To gain acceptance in this place.

1 tell myself it’s only jail, But it’s fear that showrs upon my face.

Michael Cheskey, FR 1807 10745 Route 18 Albion, PA 16475-0002 Searching Harlan Romines Alone I sit and alone I think.

Unfolding written revelations of mind, body and soul,

Alone I do exercises using my sink.

looking between all the gaps that time will unfold;

Muscles pumping as the sweat starts to drip.

Voices unseen through variegated images from within,

Trickles down my face through the mustache on my lip.

Constant reminders of dedicated feelings of sin.

Tattoos glistening all over, what a sight 1 must be.

Knowing it’s the beginning of an unsculpted mold.

But how snookered you’d feel if you could see inside of me.

Feel the heat of my passion as my pulses rage out of control.

I've lived a life of confusion portraying what I’m not.

Capturing all who prey upon unnatural lust.

It’s definitely a miracle I haven’t yet been stabbed or shot.

Universal measures found upon cosmic dust,

As I’ve grown older I’ve begun to see.

See my soul, for its hardly visionary.

I’ll never be truly happy until 1 just be me.

42

Issue N um ber 121

So like a butterfly emerging in the sun's glow Let me introduce you to the man I want to know.

I've had a hard life for some thirty-three years.

Sot near enough laughter and way too many tears.

But don't fret for me cause those shackles are now gone.

Nothing holding me away from seeing the breaking dawn.

There's a smile where a scow I used to be.

Now I need someone to share in this freedom with me.

I know I have a lot to leant about the lifestyle but now I can see.

1need to open up and let someone’s love deep inside of me.

There’s more than one meaning to the words I've just written.

And I'm hoping some reader is curious and a bit smitten.

So pick up a pen and share your thoughts tonight.

Then may be a (reindship will grow and be mutually bright. . .

Harlan Romines #J 48330 Pelican Bay State Prison - DL/209 PO Box 7500 Cresent City, CA 95532 My First Tim e — Part One Justin Sudweeks “Hey Nick!” I called to my best friend on that unforgettable afternoon. Who knew those two words would script the rest of my life? I knew Nick for a few years, we lived in the same neighborhood and attended school together, and we were inseparable.

Every day after school, Nick came over to my house to go swimming and hang out. We would always change in my room and 1 would watch him out of the corner of my eye. Today, 1 was to be caught. Nick looked at me with his cold, blue-eyed stare and 1 thought for sure our friendship ended in that very moment. “What’s up, Justin, do you like what you see?” I could have died when those words pierced my ears, but he flashed his pearly white smile and, with the laugh of an angel, hit me in the arm and said, “Hurry the hell up, we’re supposed to be swimming, not daydreaming.” 1 guess you could say Nick and I shared that sacred bond only two young boys could share. Little did 1 know 1 was going to find out just how bonded we were.

“Hey Nick! What are you doing this weekend?” 1 tell him my parents are going out of town for the weekend and gave me the choice whether I wanted to stay home or go with them. Obviously, 1 chose to stay home. “Why don’t you ask your parents if you can Spring 2005

stay for the weekend. We'll be able to do whatever we want. My dad's liquor cabinet is full and 1 just bought a quarter bag ot weed. The house will be ours the whole weekend!” He looked at me like 1 had finally gone mad, “How am 1 going to get my parents to let me stay the weekend with you, with your parents out of town?" Little did he know I had good of mom on the job. She talked to his folks and just like that, we had the green light. My life would never be the same.

Friday night the doorbell rang and there was my best friend, sandy blond hair hanging in his eyes, his lopsided grin signaling that we were free from the burdens of life, as tree as we had ever been. Ott we went straight to dad’s liquor cabinet. God that stuff tasted like shit. We fired up a joint and turned on the home stereo system and ran around the house like we had lost our minds. We collapsed in front of the TV laughing our asses off at how weird we were acting.

He stood up and said,” Last one in the pool is a loser.” 1 chased close behind, drunkenly stoned. 1 stopped dead in my tracks as Nick was stripping down. He stood there naked with a goofy smile and called me a loser. And jumped in the pool. 1 don’t think I’ve ever been as hard as 1 was in that moment.

1 tried to hide it, which was not an easy task as 1 didn’t have the smallest package in town. 1 shyly stripped down to the laughing taunts of my best friend. By the time 1 hit the water, we were laughing hysterically.

Nick moved to about two feet in front of me and, with a laugh in his voice asked, “You like me, don’t you, Justin?” All 1 could say was, “Yes.” My whole body was trembling being that close to Nick’s naked body. 1 thought my heart would jump clear out of my chest. Through a drunken, stoned voice, 1 heard him whisper, “1 don’t know what I’m doing,” and then his arms were around my neck, our bodies touching in every place. My hands found every inch of his crotch, I heard a small moan escape his breath when 1 squeezed his erect penis. He kept his arms around my neck as 1 continued to explore his body. Our penises pressed up against each other and my gentle hands squeezed his butt. 1 could feel his warm breath on my ear as he asked, “Do you want to kiss me?” 1 couldn’t believe the feeling as I slid my tongue through his soft lips and, as we stood there naked in the water, kissing with the warm Arizona desert air embracing us. I could only imagine what was to come of the rest of the night . . . .

Justin Sudweeks #146257 ASPC-Eyman-SM U1 PO Box 4000 Florence, AZ 95232 45

Russian River Faeries Russian Rtver, CA, USA http://groups.yahrio.com /group/ rui-^ an river faerie rmssanmierfaenc@yahoogroupact)m (vcs. that’s spelled R-U-I-ssan) San Francisco Tcl-a-Fairy San Francisco, CA 415-626-3369

I lelp keep these Facnc contacts up to date. Send changes, additions/dclctions to: facriefindcr@rfdmag.org

United States Arkansas Rose o f Sharon Rt. 2 Box 130A2 Elkins, AR 72727 501-643-3855

California

Southern CA Area Radical Faeries (SCARF) Faerie Dish Rag (FDR) PO Box 26807 Ixjs Angeles, CA 90026 socaradfac@aol.com faedishrag@aol.com.

213-666-1350 Sign up for the SCARF email list FR1ENDSOFFEYSC at www.queernct.org. Click on “QucerNct Groups” then “New V isitors/Explore” Starland-F’ae Retrcat/Community Yucca Valley, CA www. s ta rlandre tre at.com infoguru@starlandretreat.com 760-364-2069

Black Leather Wings 1230 Market Street Box #330 San Francisco, CA 94102 www.blackleathcrwings.org bhv@blackleatherwings.org 281-235-2477

Colorado

1lolv Fairy Database California and W olf Creek Faerie Sanctuary events.

P.O. Box 426732 San Francisco, CA 94142

D.C./Maryland

1.as 1ladas del Sol Faeries o f the Sun San Diego, CA 619-226 8161 or 619-685-7626 Los Angeles Primal Spirit h ttp ://groups.yahoo.com /group/ primalspirit M oon Circle — Los Angeles Los Angeles, CA wuw.moonctrcle.org Nomenus PO Box 170358 San Francisco, CA 94117 www, n omen u s. <>rg n<>mcnu8@budget.net 541 866 2678

Denver Radical Faeries PO Box 631 Denver, CO 80201 beest@qwest.net

DC Radical Faerie Pagan Potluck (Every Monday) 1611 16th St. NW Washington, DC www. DC Rad 1'eys.org DCRadFevs@aol.com Eldritch: 202-332-4697 Scaeric Faeries c / o 1lappy D oodle 2101 Buckncll Terrace Wheaton, M D 20902 happy@happydoodlc.net 301 946-0517

Florida Miami Faerie Contacts Kelpie 1louse 6700 SW 52nd St. Miami, FL 33155 305-667-7601

Georgia To visit the Sanctuary write: PO Box 312 W olf ( reek, ( )R 97497

44

Atlanta Faerie Circle snakeowl@bigfoot.com 770-446-9946

Illinois

N ew York

Chicago Faerie Circle PO Box 607282 Chicago, 1L 60660-7282 http://groups.yahoo.com /group/ ChgoRadicalFaeries chicago@radicalfaeric.com Fae events: 773-465-9329

Blue Heron Farm 68 Streeter Rd Dekalb, N Y 13630 315-347-2178

Men Nurturing Men c / o Midwest Men’s Center PO Box 705 Chicago, 1L 60614-0705 312-494-2654

Louisiana L’Affaire/Beau Monde PO Box 3036 Pincvillc, LA 71361

M assachusetts Boston Faerie Contacts shutt@fas.harvard.edu Fuku: 617-522-6466

M innesota Kawashawav Sanctuary (Northw oods Faeries) PO Box 6341 Minneapolis, MN 55406 www.kawashaway.org

N ebraska Empire o f Stardust Community PO Box 5 Craig, N E 68019 arlazaroff@yahoo.com

N ew Mexico Ithithawoo Pottewy Wanch Maqui HC 61 Box 1027 Ramah, NM 87321 hrhmaqui@yahoo.com MAVERICKS PO Box 9543 Santa Fe, NM 87504 Mvrks@aol.com Raven’s Wing Retreat Center Balance Gregory, JPC HC 61 Box 1027 ' Ramah, NM 87321 balancegregory@yahoo.com Zuni Mountain Sanctuary PO Box 636 Ramah, NM 87321 www.zms.org zunimtn@cia-g.com 505-783-4002

G anowungo Sanctuary jay Stratton 121 Union St. Westfield, NY 14787 NYC Circle o f Radical Faeries & the FaerieGram PO Box 150296 Brooklyn, N Y 11215 www.radicalfaeries.net

Ohio N.E.O.F.A.G. N E O hio Faerie Action Group PO Box 93166 Cleveland, OH 44101-5166 ohmitian2@core.com

Oklahom a Faerie Cherokee Indians & Friends c / o Everett Cheshewalla PO Box 642 Tulsa, OK 74101-0642 Oklahoma Radical Faeries PO Box 32321 Oklahoma Citv, OK 73123 405-722-8985 ’

Oregon Eugene/Springfteld Faeries ronunger@efn.org 541-683-5084 Portland Faeries Fey Dirt fevdirt@rdrop.com 503-235-0826 W olf Creek Sanctuary PO Box 312 Wolf Creek, OR 97497 www.nomcnus.org nomenus@ budget.net 541-866-2678

Pennsylvania Philadelphia Faeries http ://groups.yah oo.com /group / philly faeries bartlett@critpath.org Pittsburgh Faerie Circle 7212-1/2 Meade St. Pittsburgh, PA 15208 jrbishop@belladantic.net 412-241-8606

Issue N um ber 121

The Hermitage A queer intentional communin' "5 Grove Rd Pitman. PA 17964 www.tc.otg/ thchermitage

U t ah

3"t 1-425-2348

The Faeries in SIX' Salt Lake City, I T slipuut xmission.com 801- 275-7118

Tennessee

Vermont

Creek view Farms Retreat PO Box 18” Liberty. TN 37095-0187 SnuffvVH{a netscape.net 615-563-2219/615- 563-6624

Faerie Camp Destiny PO Box 531 Winooski, VT 05404-0531 www.facriecampdesrinv.org 802- 295-7105

IDA queer artist community PO Box 874 Smithville, TN 37166-0874 www.planetida.com website under construction) planetida@planetida.com 615-597-4409

W ashington

Memphis Faerie Circle www.rivcrspirits.org louis@planetida.com Nashville Circle 615-258-4226 Pumpkin 1follow 1467 Pumpkin H ollow Rd Liberty-, T N 37095 615-536-5022 Short Mountain Sanctuary 247 Sanctuary Lane Liberty, TN 37095 615-563-4397 msgs. only

Texas Austin Area Faeries Casa de los Mariposas 12514 Esplanade St., Apt. B Austin, TX 78727-4424 www.casamanposa.org mariposas@sbcglobal.net 512-837-1596

Nahcotta Sanctuary P O Box 87 Nahcotta. \ \ A 986.37 Northwest Faeries http://groups.vahoo.com /group/ nwradfeys Olympia Faeries http://groups.yahoo.com /group/ olyradfaes Seattle Radical Faeries 6002-32nd Avc NW Seattle, WA 98107-2540 http ://groups.m sn.com /grou p/ SeattlerADICALfAERl ES or http://groups.yahoo.com /group/ nwradfeys

W isconsin Milwaukee Faerie Circle 712 East Knapp Street #304 Milwaukee, W1 53202

Texas Faerie Connection Hyperion & Swami c /o FEYARTS PO Box 2542 Wimberly, TX 78676

Spring 2005

N etherland s

aka Amber Fox Summer Gathering Place Ontario, Canada aka.amberfox.ca circle@ aka.amberfox.ca

Dutch Circle c (i F.uroFacncs PO Box 2~21 1000 CS Amsterdam wwxv. eurot aerie,i >rg Dee l aic tel: 31 20 4 8 6 0 3 "

Europe Euro-Faeries www.eurofaene.org

Baltic Circle \ F . Europe/Baltic Circle c /o Viking Diva PO Box 3698 10501 Tallin Estonia viking_diva@hotmail.com

England Edward Carpenter Community London WC1N 3XX UK wuxvcxhviudcarpenrea'ommunity.otguk info@tthyardcarpcntenDciiiTiriuiyityxnguk 44-08-703-215121 Thames A'alley Faeries, England piet@peirvk.demon.co.uk www.pictvk.demon.co.uk/bgl/ ReadandBerks/

France Les Fees de MontPellier c / o Pierre Vazquez 38 rue 1’Auguillerie 34000 Montpellier, France 33-04-67-60-89-30 Paris Faeries c /o Efthimios Kales 7 Rue Paycnne 75003 Paris, France efthimios@aol.com 33-1-40-27-02-95 FAX: 33-1-40-27-02-96

Houston Faerie Circle http://groups,yahoo.com /group/ houstonfaeriecircle North Texas Radical Faeries wwu-.geocities.com/ntradfae or http://groups.yahoo.com /group/ NTRadfae/

Canada

1lomodok-Lesbian Archives Amsterdam Nieuvvpoortkadc 2a \ 1,1055 R \ Amsterdam www homodok laa.nl info@ hom odok laa.nl 31-20-6060712 FAX: 31 20-6060713

N orthern Ireland Irish Radical Faeries An Sidhcog ~1 Ballvcultcr Road l.oughkeelan, Downpatrick County Dow n B 1.30 7BD

Switzerland Swiss Furo Faeries (Merlin) Wcndelin.Kuepcrs@untsg.ch

Faeries on the Web Central clearinghouse for Faerie info and nationwide gatherings: www.radfac.org www.persimmonpages.org/ faeries/ NF. Faerie Email Network (New Aork City, Philly, Boston; PA, NY, CT, MA, A”L N i l, ME) agnesknows@aol.com

Germany

Asia Asian Faeries (Bangkok) John Ferguson/Habibi If_in_bkk@yahoo.com

Australia Australian Sanctuary “Faericland” Northern NSW Post O ffice Box 495 Nimbin NSW 2480, AUSTRALIA www.ozfaeries.com info@ ozfaenes.com 61-2-66-89-70-70

( lerman Faeries c / o Merlin WcndclinMerlin@t-onhne.dc lernunihagcn.de Berlin Faeries c /o H ort/Butch Bhudda Berlin, Deutschland/Germanv howaberlin@hotmail.com Rhcingold Faeries Bonn, D eutschland/( lermanv rheingoldfacries@lyeos.de

45

Eurofaerie Gatherings Registration/1nfo: h ttp ://www.eurofaerie.org/ eurofaene_calendar.htm or by mail as noted below.

TERSCHELLING XI July 15 - 24, 2005 Island of Terschelling in the Netherlands Registration by mail: Frank Trabos (Natasha) Maria ( iorettistraat 11-e, 6462 XK Kerkrade, The Netherlands teddybeerl@home.nL, tel: 06-452 86 568 USA Contact: Dark River (Douglas), jdtnyc@hotmail.com; Tel: +1 (917)848-4049

P . O . B o x 6 8 , l i b e r t y , TN 3 7 0 9 5 (6 1 5 )5 3 6 -5 1 7 6 w w w .r fd m o g .o r g

SUBMISSIONS

W e o c c e p t s u b m i s s i o n s v io U .S . M o il,

w h e n s e n d i n g o f l o p p y d i s k , C D o r Z ip d i s k , s o v e t e x t f i l e s o s M i c r o s o f t W o r d o r r ic h t e x t f o r m o t o n d i m o g e s o s h i g h r e s o l u t i o n ( 3 0 0 d p i ) J P E G s . A lw a y s i n c l u d e o h o r d c o p y w i t h y o u r d is k . W e o ls o o c c e p t s u b m is s io n s o n t h e w e b . V is it o u r

BELTANE IN FRANCE April 2 7 - M a y 3, 2005 Centre Lothlorien, 1laute-Marne, France, 10 km from Chaumont Contact: DeeTale: +31 20 4860377 deetour@eurofaerie.org BecBalm: +33 1.72.77.00.58 jon@jonbenfer.com

w e b s it e o t w w w .r fd m o g .o r g f o r d e t a ile d in f o r m a t io n .

WRI TI NG

W e w e lc o m e y o u r s u b m is s io n s . S u g g e s t e d

l e n g t h : 5 0 0 - 2 , 5 0 0 w o r d s . W e m o y c a r e f u l l y e d i t . W e ’ ll c o n ­ t a c t y o u i f y o u r s u b m i s s i o n is s e l e c t e d . W e s o m e t i m e s h o l d m o t e r ia l f o r f u t u r e is s u e s . C o n t r i b u t o r s r e c e iv e o n e c o p y o f t h e i s s u e in w h i c h t h e i r w o r k o p p e o r s o n d a s e c o n d c o p y u p o n r e q u e s t . W e m oy u s e m o t e r io ls o n o u r w e b s it e u n le s s y o u r e q u e s t o t h e r w is e .

NHW HAWAI’I SANCTUARY? T h e r e a r c 2 7 a c r e s o f b e a u t e o u s la n d f o r s a le r i g h t n e x t d o o r t o m e o n t h e B ig I s la n d o f H a w a i ’i. T h e y a re a s k in g ju s t o v e r S 5 0 0 ,(XX) f o r it. T h e r e is a la r g e 2 b d r t n h o u s e a n d 2 g u e s t c o t t a g e s o n t h e la n d

1 a m lo o k i n g f o r b u s i n e s s m i n d e d

ART

!

W e a lw o y s n e e d d r a w in g s o n d p h o t o s . S e n d u s

g o o d q u a l i t y c o p i e s o f b l a c k - a n d - w h i t e lin e d r o w in g s .

f a e s t h a t c a n o r g a n i z e a c o l le c t iv e a n d / o r r e s e a r c h a n d g a t h e r f u n d s s o t h a t w e c a n c r e a t e a p e r m a n e n t s a n c t u a r y in H a w a i’i. 1 k n o w t h e la n d w e ll a n d t h i s is a p r i m e p i e c e o f p r o t e c t e d p r o p e r t y th a t h a s th e p o t e n t i a l t o e x p a n d . It is l o c a t e d b u t

B l a c k - o n d - w h i t e ( o r h i g h - c o n t r o s t c o lo r ) p h o t o s y ie ld t h e b e s t r e p r o d u c t i o n . A r t w o r k is r e t u r n e d u p o n r e q u e s t .

h i d d e n r ig h t in t h e h e a r t o f l o w e r P u n a .

A bui hou, ju i c y C h a i n s a w — g p b u c k g p @ e a rib lk jn k .n e t

1

DUE D A T E S

50 acre hill (ami. trees, springs creek, seclusion, wildlife & views.

95% timber 5% cleared.Within a few miles of Short Mountain Sanctuary. Electricity, phone & water on property. Natural gas & city water at pavement. $50,000 615-563-2608 rockbottom(« dtccom.nct

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Specializing in Digital Production Services for the Faerie Communities featuring • Layout & Design • Short Run Digital Printing • Large Format Poster Printing • Spiral and W ire-0 Binding • Cutting • Lamination Numbering • Stapling • Padding

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S p r i n g ; A p r il 1 5 f o r S u m m e r ; J u l y 1 5 f o r F a ll.

I

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