Sunday, January 29, 2017

Thursday, January 26, 2017

"Try for the Sun"



"Winter Barbie"

"Свобода" / "Freedom"

I note again that this week 'more' than half of our readers are from Russia. This where open cruel persecution of Queers is common. I guess we're getting through. This page is seriously Queer. This particular fever is very called for.

Peace, and "Freedom" to all the World's Peoples.

Stay tuned.



"Charles Guislain"...model, and Diva

As you know I lost my Heart, and other assorted organs to Charlie here some time ago. It's a classic "Blue Angel" or "Death in Venice" deal. Although I have no intention of kicking the bucket over this kid.

No this is just one of those fan obsession things. 

Fortunately for me,...and my lawyers. Charlie, and I are separated by an ocean, fashion, and a shit load of decades. So there it is. Still the Heart can dream.

Here below is Charlie in over the top Drag. 

He looks like a boozy Twiggy. I'm glad he didn't follow up on this much. Drag is cool mind you, but ya has to be careful about it. A little too much this way or that, and things get nuts...ya know?

I likes him better as a vaguely Angelic Faerie Sissy Boy Shaman Spirit Being.   Um...a proper Cupid as the Romans saw them. In the bloom of early manhood, and Boy Beauty...with a real Dick. You get my point.

Btw I still wanna marry Charlie up there. ( Drag or not.)

My steamy mad obsession with him has now lasted so long he's of legal marry 'n age! So I don't have to adopt him, but can have a swell outright Queer Marriage.

I'd like the gleeful shebang performed by Whoppie Goldberg at first base in Yankee Stadium with the famed "Pussy Riot" singing a no doubt unique version of "Here Comes da Bride!".

My heavens!

I can already see dear Charlie all done up in a wedding outfit especially cooked up by that demented one percenter fashion genius Valentino Garavani. 

Rafael-esq Angel-winged semi-nude choirboys will be carrying the gown's 200 ft. train with unemployed Comix book artists spreading medical Marianna before the sacred procession.

'Course I'll be rolled along in an oxygen tent by my medical team who will be trying to keep me alive to the end of the ceremony.

Like that song,...."I have NO! regrets".

Stay Tuned.


Wednesday, January 25, 2017

"Ode to Joy"

"Historical Foot Note"

When I was a kid in high school, just 16 I went to the "Village" This because I had been warned there were "perverts" there.

It seemed the place to be.

I remember seeing the actual "Stonewall Inn". I couldn't go in because you had to be 21. What a host of missed opportunities to be gleefully molested.

Well that would "come" later. 

I looked in the window, and except for a Transvestite, the 'first' I ever saw. It seemed like any other bar. Yeah I been in bars. *My dear Uncle Louie took me to have a look.

Part of my "Education" into the real world.

Anyway how could I know that two, and a half years later it would be a "Cultural Ground Zero". 

So unlike the Zillions that "claim" to have been there I actually was. Just a bit early is all.

*Stop me if you've heard this one.

It was my good ol' Uncle Louie who was really my mom's uncle, but ya know. It was "Uncle" to whom I first came out to as  Queer Pervert Maniac. Like in any "Coming Out" moment it was full of fear...even terror.

Remember this was 1966 I was about 15, and my world was a nightmare.

Uncle was the only one that had always been honest with me about the world. I was always able to confide in him. Mind you he was one tough guy. 

He literally ran away with a circus as a kid. He did what a generation of early 20th century boys dreamed of doing.  ...came back alive too.

He went to sea traveled saw the world.  'Was in the Merchant Marine Navy during WW2. Uncle was actually torpedoed in the Atlantic survived, and came home to work in the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

Which was his profession when I with great trepidation went to his house with my "Great Secret". I remember sitting down with him in his kitchen. He lit up a "Chesterfield", and asked me what was wrong.

He could see that I was freaked out so he was very concerned. 

I remember he said "...there's nothing you can tell me that I haven't seen or done myself"...wadda guy. He reassured me it'd be okay just tell him what happened.

Well I did.

He hit the roof.

He bleeping did, but not for the reasons you'd think. He said, get this it's 1966, and he said to my confession of dreams of sucking boy cock till the *radioactive cows came home.

He said...


"I thought you got a girl Pregnant!"

He went on Uncle did...

"You tell me you're a Sissy?!" "I know that, we 'All' know that. We saw that when you was a little boy!"

"I thought this was about something important. I thought you get a girl pregnant."   

No bleeping lie this is how it happened. My gawd what a family. Good thing I didn't tell him I thought I could fly. That's one thing he might not have seen or done.

Like all my stories they're "Docudramas". I left out some stuff, and polished others, but this is basically how it went down,...the whole damned family knew the whole time. I mean what with my siblings intercepting Queer porn that I'd sent away for, and such...being caught trying on Moms stuff when I was 11 didn't help.

So yeah a secret as open as Liberace was gay.

Good grief.

I should write a damned book.

*(...about them "radioactive cows". It was only in the mid-1960's that they finally stopped testing them "H-Fucking-Bombs" out west.) 

(Bleeping morons.)

(Me, and them of my generation have "Strontium 90" in our bones behind that madness. '...them cows didn't do too good either.) 

Stay tuned.


Though it's the middle of January I'm thinking of "Gaie" Pride Day. The fact that it's been 50f all winter to this day likely puts me in a summer frame of mind

Anyway June is Queer Pride Month,...for some. Mostly for the "We're just like You" assimilated "Straight~Gay" stroller pushers.  I think now in the scary age of Trump they'll find where they really stand.

'But to my point.

I'd like to re-claim Fag Day for 'ALL' Queers Sissies Sexual Outlaws, and assorted  gleeful Weirdos.

You know the Perverts that were the ones actually engaged in the Revolutionary Revolt, and Riot at the Stonewall?

This is for them Bless their Swishy Boy Loving Finger Nail Painted Gown wearing Outlaw Hearts!

The "We're just like you" crowd can go back to sucking Nazi cock .

This till they get thrown into them cattle cars, and find out just how much "like them" they really are. 

Comrades you're Faggots, Queers Frou-Frou's Fruits Poofters get about being proud of that instead of acting like the people that want to kill us.

Just a suggestion.

Stay Tuned.


'Being the Journal of Mid-Shipman Jamie Pip. Royal Navy Cadet.

HMS Foretina, May 12th, 1903

I stood "Bow Watch" from quarter noon till sundown. Observed, and reported a French steamer on the starboard horizon. Post noon a Spanish Ironclad "Man 'o War"crossed us heading east then turned true north.

Twin rainbows sighted 12 degrees to port. A great storm has skirted us.

...for now.

Most enchanting however at dusk a Pod of Blue Whales rode our bow break. How graceful they glided as they sang to each other.


HMS Foretina, May 14th 1903

17 degrees N/NW of the Isle San Angelica de Isabella. 

It is a full Moon this night, and the North Star is to port. Orion with his three sisters drifts in the sky at our windward. 

The Foretina sings.

At night she sings. From her rigging's sails boards comes music. Her timbers groan her bow a soft choir, and oh how cleanly she cleaves the sea.

The ships bell chimes as a call to prayer.


HMS Foretina May 17th, 1903

A new lad came aboard by launch from the port of Isabella. His name is Allabad Wellington. He is kindly in disposition, and comely in appearance.

A "Black 'a Moor" he is, and poetic in his speech.

I though a Jew shall be so forward as to befriend him. Perhaps he will smile upon me if I gift him my slim though precious volume of Sufi poems, and prayers.


The 21st of May 1903,

9 degrees E/NE of Saint George's Atoll.

The a fore mentioned gales have caught up with us! We suffer within her sharp teeth! The Captain has ordered we sail into the wind. Waves lash the decks The sea looms over us. Fish rain down as "Manna".

Cook says, "...if we ain't pulled to the bottom we'll eat well this night!"

So fearful yet beautiful is this.

The sky a blur of color, Bright arcs of lightning dance on every horizon. The sea illuminated the masts ignited by "Saint Elmo's Fire!"

The bow digs deep yet rises again the rigging makes her strange music. The good "Foretina" yaws hard to port then starboard then again even more deeply.

The eyes of the younger Cadets are wide with terror yet wonder too. So it was for a night, and a day.

Fading drifting sand in a gentle wind...

A dream, why.....the ship the storm Allabad faded slowly..vanished.

Even myself...gone.


I'm reading a book. One made of linen. It's pages it's leaves flutter in the breeze. It speaks to me this linen book. Telling not only the written story within, but how it came to be.

How it was cut sewn stitched. How the words were so slowly, and carefully threaded together.

This book of cloth told me of it's inner life. About the lives the ways of all the books like her.

Then gone. the "Foretina" gone.


I enter another world in mid-sentence.

Friends. Three women friends of which I am one. In dreams you live whole lives in moments. I entered a world with life long friends about me.

I yearned to tell the 'secret' my great, and terrible secret. What for them was a lifetime was for me a moments fancy as I lay asleep in another world.

We sat, and laughed at the folly of the world. A world I was about to leave. Leave, and forget. This world, and my 'momentary' friends will vanish.

Leaving not even dust.


I awaken with the fragments of lives on the tip of my tongue. Fragments which as the moments passed melt away to nothing.


Stay Tuned. 

Monday, January 23, 2017

"Snow Spirts"

These beings live within the chill of frozen air, and ice crystals. They often assume the shapes of wolves bears shimmering light or sometimes the likeness of their cousins the forest faeries.
Civilization is far too hot for them to survive in except for times like these.


These rare events when wind snow, and ice overwhelm even the machines of men
Then they come. They come to the hearts of our cities to explore, and learn. As in the old tales. They give good enchantments to the kindly the very young, and the very old.

Their time with us is very brief.

So if you watch carefully in these next hours you may see their shadows.

Stay Tuned.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

"Me Again!"

Above there as most know are images of your esteemed editor from Boyhood. I drew the ink image from a class portrait maybe from 5th grade or so.

I experimented with color foils. Umm...a good idea, but...

Stay tuned. 

"So dolls it Was"

It all goes back to my kidhood, and playing with my sister's dollies. That, and my Grandmother trying to turn me into a Transvestite. This centuries before all that happy noise went main-stream.
I've told stories here about that, and other interesting adventures of growing up with somewhat stern, but loving, and seriously eccentric elders.

Mostly though the dolls became a life-line during the long AIDS Pandemic. Although we didn't know for a long while that's what we were all in.
All we knew was our friends were dying all around us.

Cutting to the chase...though you know how I love to write tear jerkers. Getting to the rather merciless, and sharp point. My generation of gleeful Queers was rather like the WW1 generation. The young men of Europe exterminated for nothing.

1914~1918 the first act of the Second Hundred Years War.

That war known to the rubes as WW1 was, and is for me the barometer of how just how far into madness we will allow ourselves to go. Quite far as it turns out.
AIDS the mass killer that no-one at least in the USA would talk about in it's early years. The Government was silent even the Gay Press hardly said a word...mostly from ignorance both real, and willful.

All was knew was that all our dearest friends were dead or dying. Hence my WW1 Trench feeling about it all. It seemed that every week there was a funeral for someone I knew. That or someone in my social circle close or far, but there they were...dead.
WW1 wives had their children or writing or their parents. We had no one. Officially it wasn't even happening. That's something younger folks don't know or don't know how to internalize.

We were so alone in those years.

Someone should write something if they haven't already. I have a fear that this like so much of the culture changing events of the mid-late 20th century will be lost.
When the last of us Hipsters/Hippies/Peaceniks go that History will go too. Or worse survive as the ridiculous cartoon distortions that are too common today.

'But to the dolls.

While care-giving for a friend's friend my serious doll thing evolved.
He as it happened had a suppressed his love for them sweet little folks. The usual story...beaten by his father for showing Sissy traits...caught with his sister's dolls. It was bad. He was made to suffer.

Stupid Father's are so often the villains in these stories.

I would say there should be a special place in one of them ironic "Twilight Zone" Hell's for them...but I don't believe in Hell. Okay if the father decides to re-incarnate it will have to be as a colorful singing Drag Queen with his own program on "Showtime"...that ought to do it.
Evens the Karma out.

Anyway I went over to Kmart or was it Woolworths. Well one of them, and I got him three Barbie dolls...with a few costume changes.

He loved it!

So on every visit I brought a doll with me. They got fancier, and more expensive as time went on. I was becoming an informed shopper. After a time though I noticed the dolls were not being opened. They were beginning to pile up. He was just too weak too forgetful.
When he passed, when my friend's friend finally passed all the dolls were given away to a local Day Care.

There is no 'After Action Report" not for any of it. It came upon us it happened it ended. You know I've never actually sat down, and counted up the dead I knew.

Still can't.

However the Dolls continued. Stand-in characters for the dead. So for those that have wondered that's where my "Doll Thing" comes from.

They are surrogates for the lost.

I never replaced my does one 'replace' a dear friend? So often people in wanting to be kind have said that "replacing" thing to me. can't be done.

All you can do is to try to move on.

Well I did, but I took Barbie with me.

Stay Tuned.