"Fridge-top Drama!"

"Sissy Meditation III"

Being Queer a Sissy is to have a particular sensitivity to the world. I say "Sissy" because not all homosexuals are Queer. Some fuck like them, but are not remotely them.

I was a Sissy when a young boy. I was called "Sensitive" by my Mother, and Aunts. Other things by boys at school. When I was seven I knew I had a different seeing. A Sissy's seeing.

There was a day in fall. The Sky. The Colors, and swift Clouds of October. I sat in my backyard for hours I think. 

Just watching.

I was uplifted taken away by the wonder of it. This in essence is Queerhood. Sissydom. Sissyhood is the ability to be lost. So lost in beauty, and gentleness that you forget who you are where you are when you are.

This done without effort. For Queers it just happens.

In most boys, and men it's beaten out of them. It's gone.
However with us it's different. It's who we are. Threaten us beat us all you want we don't lose it won't change 'can't' change.

The Sky will always be beautiful to us, and we will always say so. We will always be taken up, and lost in it.

I wonder how many Queer Sissies have been martyred for loving the Sky for loving Color Sweetness, and Gentleness.


(I wrote the below as a dovetail to the meditation.)

"Falling Into the Sky"

What would it be like if you fell into the Sky.
You're going to this place, and that 
while above us Eternity.

Forever, and Forever ,...Tomorrow, and Tomorrow.

Above the Trees above the Towers beyond the Clouds.

I think of falling into Eternity falling into Forever.

One foot in front of the other. One step then another,...

Then,...Falling.

Falling into Heaven.

"An Early Frost"

Fall is sinking in. I know because I'm fucking cold tonight. I've closed the windows, and I'm in a sweatshirt for the first time since early May.
Mind you I ain't complaining. I'll take this over 102f, and humid like we had for most of the summer. 

Well not every bleeping day. 

'But fucking enough of them. Speaking of alternately sweating to death or freezing my nuts off.

I'm still here.

All of my farewell posts are so short lived. I had Eight,..."8" people come by. I figured right that's it. Time to close shop. Numbers have been going down for years, and it finally hit near 'ZERO'.

Then you guys started commenting as how you like crap around here. ???!! How 'bout that.
Also I checked today, and 280 folks showed up out'a nowhere. That's some weird shit. So we'll see. I posted several stories I had hanging around to let you know I still loved you kats.

I do too. ...mostly.

So yeah I'll be around. I was going to be around anyway, but I'll be a bit more around than I'd planned. I spend most of my time sleeping, and or getting ready for da end of the world. I do this by stocking up on diet Pepsi, and Spam.

Btw if you're 'Merikan vote next month. 
I mean just for the hell of it. It'll be fun to see things go nuts as one party is kicked out, and another comes in full of red eyed drooling vengeance. 
#45 sez his rubes will hit the streets with their guns, and Swastikas.
Don't worry the good guys will fight them off with folk songs, and gluten free sandwiches.

I can hardly wait.

"Off World"

I have a great longing to have lived, and grown up in wilderness. I think this is the first lifetime I've lived in a big City. That is if recurring lives are true. This is also I think the first time I'm male. I just never got the hang of it,...so to speak.

Most of my longings are for wilderness. Farms meadows.

My family had a dairy farm down South for generations. So I missed my rural destiny by just a few decades.
In the life cycles it was time for me to push on,...into a vast City Nation.

I had children too...in those other lives. Many lives as a mother.

That is very clear.

In this present life I was always the one to care for the children of family. I had a child with a dear friend long ago. The little one didn't make it. Miscarriage. There's no grave. Our industrial values didn't allow for one,...it was just tissue.

I dream of him/her sometimes. The child appears as one or the other in my arms.

About our farm though. If we still had it my brother, and I would have been running it. We'd have passed it on to our kids by now. Grand kids learning the trade now as well.

So farms behind me in this City World I'm living in now.

Perhaps the next life will be "Off World". 

I'll let you know.

"Cheer Up"

Night I dreamed of night. People in thier multitudes stood watching the sky. The increasingly strange night sky. The stars were fading out. Some winking abruptly with all the colors of the spectrum.

Others slowly fading dark.
It seemed as if all the heavens were drifting away from us. Going out as they did. Cassiopeia Virgo Orion Gemini Andromeda. Singularly or in groups they left us.

Soon only the Pleiades, and a handful of other points stayed behind. However they too were soon burned away. In the end a world of astonished eyes only beheld the empty Chalice of Eternity.

Void.

"So it was in the beginning, and shall be again."

Amen.

"I Can Explain,...No Really I Can"

Way back in 1974 I gets this call from Abbie Hoffman when he was on the lam from da Feds. Well he tells me about that fucking giant UFO them feds is sitting out in Montana.

He gives me coordinates the works.
Sez he want's me to give the low down to the Dali Lama.

Then I hears shots on the line,...bleep!

Still I has to get this shit to the frigging Dali Lama in bleeping India,...I ain't been west of Chicago at the time. While I'm standing there with a dead phone in my hand, and a possible dead Abbie at the other end.

Then a flaming pouch tied to a brick shaped like a birthday cake comes fly'n through my window. Aw Com'on!
Anyway I Opens it, and there's a note from Holden Caulfield who everybody, and their indicted uncle thinks is fictional,...but ain't.

There's also a ticket to Geneva with a re-route to Somalia then another direct to New Deli. That plus a load 'a passports, and a big bunch of money,...cash!
Holden sez to contact some Midwestern crooked politico fixer named Clinton in Geneva.
Btw there's a gun in that bag too. Ol' Holden sez to shoot the "fixer" once business is done,...bleep!
I ain't shoot'n shit.

I took the dough shit canned them hot passports which probably would've got me stuck up against the first handy wall, and split the hell out'a there. Every phone booth I ran pass was ringing,...they had me spotted covered sighted, and bleeped up the tail light with no grease in sight!
Fuck, and I thought I was gonna get laid,...another story.

*To be continued.

"...all we have"

Scenes from a life. Mine. Not unlike yours. The sun peeking through my kitchen window. It prisms, and cascades color over everything. Who would have thought a toaster could be so beautiful.

My floor becomes a yellow brick road. My calendar from the Thai take-out an illuminated manuscript. That, and all of my meds lined up, and lighted from within.

'Almost makes waking up worthwhile.

I remember lying in bed as a child, and listening. The branches outside my window heaved like the ocean. The house creaked, and moaned like a ship. My curtains billowing like sails.
I slipped into sleep. Into deep deep dreams. Dreams of brigantines sailing seas of green gems, and skies full of shooting stars.

Moments.

Blessed moments.

They are all we are.

They are all we have.

"Geisha Inc."

A pal was telling me that them geisha gals ain't exactly thick on the ground over there in Japan. This since to get into the training one needs the introduction from assorted big shots. Politicians rich guys or the mafia. Also after you get in it's insanely expensive so only children of the very well off are geisha.

What a drag.

So I figured I could fix this...with one of them "Kick Start" money things. I'll start a franchise of cut-rate Geisha Academies. Sort of like them car or air conditioner repair school scams. 

(Copy for my Geisha School commercial.)

"Yep come to " Aunt Kiko's Geisha Refinement Academy" Outlets all over the Tri-State area. We'll have you in white powder a kimono, and saying "Hello Sailor" in no time. Financial assistance available. Apply today have your 'Geisha Dreams' come true!

All sizes life-styles genders orientations, and till now unknown, and or unique identities welcome!

On public assistance? Currently incarcerated? No problem. We can work a deal!

We speak Russian~Мы говорим на русском!
We speak Creole~Nou pale Kreyòl!
We speak Persian~ما فارسی صحبت می کنیم!
We speak Mandarin~我们说普通话!
Si Habla Espanol!

See above,...There's Hatfield Broadjump! His Geisha Dream has Come True! So can yours!
Ask about our Veterans rates!

Apply Today!

"2028 C.E."

I find a forbidden copy of "Wild Boys" by the now declared criminal 20th century author William Burroughs. This in a used book stall. I'm amazed there's one still around. I mean after the "Literary Purity, and Religious Freedom Act" was passed.

I paid in Bitcoin script, and hid it under my shirt. I took it home turned out all the lights. I climbed into my hall closet with a flash light. I crouch, and slowly open to the first page.

Suddenly police dogs barking a chopper hovering overhead with search lights stabbing through the curtains. The sound of boots stomping up my building's stairs.

Life in Tomorrowland.

"~V~"

Years ago I did a treatment for a children's story. I read some of it when I used to be on the air. I never got it to work though. The story was a good one, but just didn't scan.

That is till I realized it wasn't supposed to be a story...not exactly. 

"Beulah's Window" was a descriptive few lines in the middle of a long wordy narrative.
I scraped away all the static, and let those few lines free. Yes I've posted this a few times here,...but I just likes it is all.

...yeah that some of my paper doll art up there. Sue me.

"Beulah's Window"

"The window was a symphony of dreams. The window was composed of dozens of shards. Cast off bits of stained glass that Beulah the Forest Woman, Beulah the Witch, Beulah the Angel had assembled into Magic.

As the afternoon sun played across it. Here was illuminated a hand fragments of clouds. There a lily there a smile. Then a yellow crescent moon.

Throughout were floating embers of deep blue bright reds shades of gold fragments of turquoise. In it's upper portions were bits of alabaster doves, and a spray of purple, and rose.

Such was Beulah's Window."

"Peace"

The Age of Twitter has done it's job. My crappy posts as well. Nobody's here. Eight as in 8 persons today including myself. Eleven,....11, yesterday.

Even I get he message.

Time to shut down. At least semi-officially. Been doing this since 1997. Have produced 12 different blogs, and some Pod-Radio too. 
Eh,...once one science fiction site in the Dark Universe,...ahem. 

This is the last variant. Even this was a Hybrid.

I posted something like this last month or so when I realized no one was here. At the time it was about 30 a day. The graph has since gone rather seriously south. 
Hey remember the deranged glory daze when we were over a Half Million hot gleeful viewers?!

That was "BT",...Before Twitter.

Also Fuck No! 
I ain't fucking going there.
That place is the haunt of the semi-literate bullies thugs, and a certain demented world leader.

Naw this ain't a plea for shit. 
Just seeing that times change, and one moves on.

Mind you I'll drop by anyway when I have some rant or emotional outburst. So maybe drop by once or twice a month, and have a look. It was a hell of a ride.

Peace to you all.

"It Rains, and Rains"

"Burden"

To be a burden. The very thing our dignity can't allow will never allow. When I was homeless I told no one. No friend knew for over a year. No family for longer than that. ...Dignity.

I was able to hide my condition. I still had my job an income insurance, and though fading,...options. I've told that whole story several times here as informal therapy. However there were other conditions that could not be hidden.

Before my street life there was another adventure in trauma. I was caregiver for an older aunt for some years. This as her dementia tumbled on. Slowly she ceased being the loving soul I knew, and became a screaming raging unrecognizable shell.

The details you can imagine. Some of you have been there or will be. It's soul crushing. However both I, and you would do it again in a heartbeat. No matter the cost...even now knowing the cost.

Cost.

This is the point. There was great emotional cost for me during these last twelve years. Caregiving work stress homelessness being forcibly retired recurring illness. Living in relative poverty as a result. All that was my world. That, and now in some ways becoming a burden.
This as I had to take burdens from others once.

I weary of all this.

I'm very tired lonely often ill, and without joy. Old folks have a trail of tears few are interested in. I'm not interested in having them. I should have passed on last year. I was supposed to, but those young doctors insisted on saving my life,...swell.

So on this damp grey rainy early fall, but still too warm day. I whine to the walls, and the world that bothers to come here. 
Mind you despite this crap I still laugh sometimes have happy dreams. 
I have a sister, and friends that want me to stay alive.

I still have my home a few bits of stuff, and at least some sense of a future. Compared to millions even in this country I'm fine. 
As I say I'm just tired. I need a sunny day so I can go to the park. 
That, and one last time to Coney Island till next year. 

So here we are.

"Remember"

Remember remember the Fifth of November!

Gunpowder Treason, and Plot;

I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot!

Guy Fawkes, and companions did seek to contrive,

To Blow the King, and Parliament all up Alive!

Three score barrels, laid below, to prove Old England's Overthrow.

*

It'll be a day early for us, but...VOTE.

This time we're Rooting for Guy Fawkes, and his pals!

"Bop"

Just sitting through another empty Saturday night listening to Bop. Listen below. Could be worse.

Could be bleeding in an alley on jury duty or dead. 

So life is good.

"Days Go By"...a story

I was on a chat where the problem of how to get by if you woke up as the only likely person still on the planet. Well there may be others, but widely separated. Say out of the current 7 Billions of folks you wake up on an earth with 60,000 thousand. This scattered all over the globe.

Well first things first.

Where do they keep the antibiotics in drug stores? Also how do I get fresh water for the rest of my life. This is the sort of stuff a person would be working on. This assuming that Zombies or crazed bikers gangs don't also survive close by, and show up to ruin your day.

Water would be easy at first as the water system will run for some time. At least till the pumps, and power lasts. If you're in a region with hydroelectric you're good for a few years. Most other places only a few weeks to a month.

However before this happens you'll need to map out the water tables in your area. Wherever you finally settle down know the location of freshwater streams, and such.

One must learn to think long term,...very long term.

Your life depends on it. This is why so-called primitive folks tend to do this. End of the quarter thinking in this environment will be very fatal. So very long term planning if one wants to go on.

However,...

Profound mourning, grievous loss would be a big part of your empty world. At least at first. If one learns to live with this lonely reality the practicalities will assert itself.

A safe place to live.

Did the wildlife come through the event. If so you'll need to learn to hunt some. Eventually protection from them. Canned or dried food is only good for at most five years. You'll have to be a farmer/hunter. If you're an urbanite you'll have to learn these skills. This can be done with experience, and reading. Life in the city will be too dangerous in a year or less.

Find a cabin.

Good drainage a field of fire,...just in case. Tools seeds a root cellar all the preindustrial basics will have to be done. If you've had a basic education, and paid attention you'll know what books you need for this.
I think a very young person of the 21st century may not make it past two or three years. They wouldn't even know what questions to ask. They'll die of infection or food poisoning.
Perhaps even a predator attack.

I'd say the best survivor would be in their mid 20's to their early 50's. Before or after that it gets seriously dicey. So food water shelter.
Btw the commercial seeds will start to go bad certainly within six to ten years. This is why a medium plot farm will be your savior. You'll need to harvest not just the crops, but their seeds, and have a surplus of a year perhaps two of dried veggies or fruit.
This will be hard work. Seriously hard work, but can be done. You'll do it because you'll know your life depends on it.

Prepare for storms or other natural disasters that could wipe your homestead out.

Again take care where you decide to settle. You'll learn that a flood plain is called that for a reason. Be near a stream not a river. Those flood. Fish will be a major calorie source.
Do art. Paint draw write sing dance this will keep you both sane, and physically healthy. Me I would do one man portrayals of the classics, as well as commercials,...this especially from the 1950's. This would amuse, and center one's sanity.
Remember you are alone in this world. Except for your cats, and hunting dogs.

Our survivor might go exploring from time to time.

Maybe going to towns for new tools or perhaps items to amuse. She or he may have a classic Land Rover they keep tuned up for this. A Rover is what I'd have. A good four wheel drive all terrain ride. This could last for some years. After the gasoline no longer clicks.
A Rover can use other mixtures...so I've read.
Although one would have to know where you were, and how to get back to your homestead if you broke down. Remember there is 'no one else'. Only 'you' can save you. How long one lives will be the same as with our ancestors...dumb luck, and your hard work. If the survivor was say 26 at the time of the Event they again with "luck' could live into their 50's certainly,...that is if they wanted to.

A possible reason to go on would be company.

12 years into your farming hunting performing artistic life perhaps a change.
A hunter gatherer group might pass through the area. This unlike the marauders in the films, and books,
would be a pleasant encounter. It took all those years to stumble on your homestead because they may have started thousands of miles away.

You'll trade laugh fuck, and they'll move on.

Though now they know you're there, and they come back a few times a year as their journeys take them through the region.

In time others might show up.

Same thing.Laugh perform some plays for them trade fuck, and they move on. One day if your a guy some of these bands come back with your daughters, and sons to visit.

I can see a solstice meeting of clans developing every several years as your children, and grandchildren return to your homestead for the festival.
If this were me I can see myself taking my extended distant families around the farm in my aged Land Rover.
The little ones amazed having never seen a car actually running.

So humanity at least in the first post Event generations live in peace.
In the future villages towns one day city states.

Though this time we might get it right.

"Bert, and Ernie Suck Cock"

What a pair. That, and they still have their rent controlled digs on the Upper West Side. Had it since it was a ghetto warzone in the late 1960's'. Them was the days.

Mind you their pals from the early days of the show was priced out. 

Nothing ethnic cleanse's like Gentrification.

Their 'hood is white as snow now. Muppets are honorary whites.

That temporary title will be like cream cheese in a Blast Furnace soon. What with Nazis in power now. Soon they'll be Queer Niggers again like me, and their former pals. However till then they're fine.

Mind you when you drop by don't pick up da soap.

These two will fuck anything in pants!

Bless their polyester stuffing.

"Pronto"

"Fucking Vote for Me"

I'm completely unqualified which is these days not a problem. I'll have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. However I'll write Executive Orders like crazy. These to feed people build homes free tuition free meds freedom from fear, and other neat stuff. 

I'll pay for it by not building anymore aircraft carriers which would just get sunk in a real war anyway.

I'll think up more neat shit as I go along.

So Vote me the Hell in, and pronto. I ain't getting any younger.

"My Mother's Wake"

The below video by Kevin Toolis  so reminds me of my Mothers wake memorial back in 1988 at our house. My Ma had touched so many lives. So many loved her. There came more than 400 at least over the day to our simple brownstone on an ordinary Brooklyn street. 
A City Councilman also a friend intervened to have the police not ticket double parked cars for the duration such was the crowd. 
I remember my brother, and sister ushering people to different parts of the house to distribute the weight, I had noted the upstairs floor was slightly bowing,...the first, and last time that ever happened. 

The people so many from all of our lives also many not known to us, but who loved my Ma. She was an administrator in a teaching hospital. So had encouraged generations of young students to become doctors no matter the obstacles. 

They came in numbers. 

So many from all the many parts of a well lived life came. Yes we sang we prayed we laughed told stories remembered, and let her go. Yet kept her memory. 
So we in our way had a vast Irish Wake for my Black Creole Chinese mother.

(...I had posted this, and the video on my FB page. I decided to put it here as well.
 I find that I have two entirely different groups following me here, and over there.)