Saturday, February 6, 2010

in the bleak midwinter

Up early on Saturday morning. One of my favorite times. Most of the world is sleeping in, and I have the whole silent planet to myself...

There's a winter storm warning, and daybreak brings little light. The black branches of my twin maples are frosted with precise, narrow strips of white icing. Scout snow flakes conduct dizzying recognizance in wet air.

The earth's atmosphere is contracted with that last catching suck of air before a gigantic sneeze.

As for me, I'm filled with a sense of adventure, dangerous and sexy. I have no idea what the day holds. My only obligation is to return library books.

I'll spend some of the day at the piano, wrestling with phrygian and sus chords, tritones, and voicings. Maybe I'll break out the art supplies as well.

Everything is frozen possibility. Potential hanging in the air like icy mist.

Negative ions in the air are giving positive charge to my libido too.

Art, jazz, poetry, and sex.

What else were Saturdays made for?



Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...

image: noyereve

Sunday, January 31, 2010

where the boys aren't

Went out last night for the first time in a long time. Saturday night and the town was dead.
Where were all the boys?
Online.

My new gig is executive director of our local HIV/AIDS service organization. I know very well how much hooking up happens in cyber spaces. In fact, I've got profiles on most of the major sites. I try to be a sane resource for accurate information, but I do love my voyeuristic thrills...

At any rate, the barren scene last night got me thinking about cruising, bars, and 'gay' culture.

Bars, of course, have been the epicenters of gay culture since long before being 'gay' was an option. Now gay culture has moved beyond the realm of homosexuality and has taken on a highly branded, high-sheen consumerist life of its own. Think Atlantis Cruise lines, Bravo, Kathy Griffin... Men, who likely suffered under the term gay growing up, have now turned the tables and demonstrated themselves to be an economic and political force to be reckoned with.

By demanding equal rights and public recognition, 'gay' culture has been conscribed to a demographic. It has assimilist aspirations and thus must have a plucked and polished public face to counteract all those right wing accusations.

This brings me to the online underground. A big aspect of 'gay' culture, or rather homosexual culture, has long been one of sexual outlaw. ManHunt, Adam4Adam, Bear411, and others have that seedy atmosphere of a Times Square bar before Disney arrived. Men go to these sites to hook up, to have sex, to hold court...much like gay bars in the old days. With one big difference. It's online that you find those men who don't want to be identified with the new 'gay' culture, or men who believe that having sex with men doesn't make you gay, or men who are married or bi with girlfriends and wives who just 'don't do the things I like.' On top of that, these underground dens are major facilitators of drug use, especially that monster meth. For those of you old enough to remember Damron Guides, the online world definitely falls under the category A.Y.O.R.

What I find most telling about this roiling, sex-fueled, wild west frontier, is the collective awareness and denial that any of it is going on. As out gay men, we see each other on Manhunt or Adam4Adam with cocks splayed and assholes gaping, with every fetish and predilection categorized in neat drop down boxes. Yet we commune and socialize in the waking world as if we've never seen those pictures or are completely unaware that the other has a passion for being double fisted while wearing lace panties.

Is this the height of acceptance or denial? I'm not really sure.

Homosexual men have always seemed to mix risk and desire. It's a game, a gamble, and the stakes are high.

There is a fine line in this political, economic, sexual, social experiment between liberation and self-destruction. But isn't that always the way?

Here's to everyone's safe passage.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...



image: Raymond Carrance

Saturday, January 30, 2010

slithering back

Well boys, it's been a while! I've spent the past few months working my ass off at a fantastically rewarding job. I'm 'the boss,' which is a trip, but I dig it.

Nothing, though, beats my ol' Juke Joint.

I've missed it, and I've missed you.

All our tight, dark, sticky corners. Moss on the trees. Hammer and clang of an old upright banging out jazz and blues. Fireflies. Sweat. Slow dancing...

It's a bit musty in here. I haven't written in too long.

I've thrown open the shutters, lit candles on the altar, and poured myself an ice cold (diet) coca cola. My shoes and shirt are off, and already I'm feeling like myself.

This year is all about getting back to my roots: art, jazz, magic, lust, passion--a nice kettle of ingredients to set a-simmering.

Can't tell you how grateful I am to be back in this run down ol' joint!

Why don't you kick back, make yourself comfortable, and join me. It's gonna be a long, slow night. Just the way I like it...

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time.