Monthly Archives: May 2005

Mother me New

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I broke it
bouncing
a basketball
down the stairs-
a priceless vase
shattered
to brittle bits bare
She yelled, but
didn’t kill me
I was impressed

How’d she do it?
Get us up, feed us,
send us off to school,
hold jobs both in music
and real estate, to boot!
She must have pined
for somewhere mellow
while managing house,
cat, dog, fish, hamsters
and who knows what else of!
respite delayed
for love infused

I never heard a complaint
At least I don’t remember
Only the image of
Platinum Glamor

As I matured
I turned out fine
but pushed her away-
forgetting the pampering
soft forgiving
comforting acceptance
which gave my core
the strength to forge new days,
sputter on my own fumes
But she was there-
fuel beneath the surface
of my confidence

I never heard a complaint
At least I don’t remember
Only the image of
Platinum Glamor

When I faltered
slipped through a crack
a feather cushion caught me
no reproach, just
“You’re back.”
comfort began
exactly where
I had ended it-
always there
bending, new

Now I’m where she
used to be
I’m happy to give back
learning to bend
ready to be her cushion-
yet learning,
still, from
her resilient
spirit burning
barely a complaint
from Platinum Glamor

But sometimes-
my heart-
falters-
when
she gazes
(agelessly)
through fading eyes.

Flat Sex

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I’ve never been a big fan of pornography. Ok, Ok, yes, I’ve used it plenty, especially when I was squished in the closet, and when I first came out. Oh, those sweet days of blind lust. Like, yesterday, for example. But it always left me wanting, kind of empty. Fantasizing about a real guy, now that’s fun. Maybe it will lead to something. Maybe hot, passionate sex, or a peak up a pant leg. I’ve thought about it a lot. (porno and pant legs) And I’ve seen changes in myself. Porno hollows my self-esteem by falsely building it up. Does that make sense? Bait and switch. In a vicious cycle.

I admit submitting to the Sirens call of porno. After I use pornography for my pleasure, I feel more lonely. If I stop to think (that is after mindlessly "enjoying" it) I realize I’ve been duped. That dream, that imaginary interaction, that fantasy depletes me psychologically. Maybe it’s because there’s not a hope in heaven of really meeting that guy. Or even really wanting to. It seems to tell me I’m nothing without them to boost myself to pleasure. In a way, I disappear during the fantasy. I mean the real me, the one with imperfections, needs, limitations. What replaces me is a flat, unreal, featureless creation to match the image in the smut.
Sure, it serves the purpose. But what else does it do?

I also get frustrated that these images are calling to me, yet not really there. I want the touch; of rough hands, of smooth butt, of fur rubbing me; the smells; faint cologne mixed with sweat, mild BO, feet; the close ups; of everything!; the detailed exploration;of everything!; the warmth, the vibration, the friction. Sex is a unique flowering of all those perceptions and interactions. Pornography and sex are not the same. Related, yes. Connected, yes, especially in gay culture. But sex, even if impersonal, has some depth. While, pornography, like a really good drug, takes you far away from reality. These packaged images mock me. Keep your distance. Window shopping only. Look but don’t touch. I start to believe that’s the way it should be; that’s all I deserve. It wakes me up. Dignity.

When at a bar with friends, one of my favorite things to do is people watch. Is that different from porno? After all, these are real people, in the flesh, not acting. And yes, I look at the beautiful one (or ten). I usually pick him out quickly. I watch his gestures, the nape of his neck, the way he stands, the way he fills his jeans, the way he laughs, the way his legs flex when walking, the shape of his hands and fingers as they bring a glass to his lips, the spark in his eyes. But even here, seeing real people, I basically disappear. It’s more real than porno, but still, the pleasure is not about me. It’s me enjoying watching them enjoying themselves. They are not in my world. You’re probably thinking, "This guy thinks too much." Yup, that’s what I do. My specialty.

So what do I really want? Do I enjoy sex? Hell, yes! But the connection with anther person is what I’m really after. Sex is a wonderful byproduct, but not the goal. If I get naked with a sexy man, I might go through the motions, and perhaps get off, but it’s still a robot running me. However, if I am really comfortable, I could hang around naked with a sexy man and not really have sex. Just play, tease, talk, laugh. You might just call this "dating". But that’s different again. No, sex is not dating. But a brief, poetic moment of sharing mutual pleasure is high on my list. It’s self affirming and sharing.

When I was in Budapest one summer I went to the Turkish baths. These places are ancient structures built by the Ottoman Empire during their reign in Hungary. And they have seen countless couplings between men. This one had a huge, windowed dome. Piercing shafts of light sliced through languid humidity down to enormous, round, wading pools where men lounged in sulfurey smelling mineral water.

There was a young man whom I watched for awhile; thin, very cute, pouty, wearing a modest, loose bathing suit. He seemed to know people, but floated free. He came up to me at closing and asked if I wanted him to go home with me. (Yes, he was for hire.) Though I was flattered and interested, I was also wary. He might be a thug. I put him off a few days. That increased the desire. And somehow also increased the comfort. We spoke on the phone several times before he came over. We spent the better part of the night playing, being silly and adolescent, eating pizza, napping. Sex was all that, but orgasm was only a small part. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say. It’s more about the pleasure of someones company and connection than orgasm. Perhaps you think that’s just expensive pornography. Yes, but I’ll never forget that specific man and that night.

All of the above has been affected by pornography. Men are hard wired to want perfection, whether it’s physical beauty or raw power or perhaps, like me, a certain level of playful comfort. Porno seems to feed all that. One is encouraged to buy the fantasy, hire the professional advice on desires, pay for the unattainably perfect dream partner, cater to every whim. And this is all fine with me. I’m not complaining. Just thinking. I just like to think about how it has changed me. And whether I’ve lost some of who I am to all that packaging, lost something subtle, personal and unique.

(Technorati Tags pornography,sex)

National Day of Reason

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Today. Put on your thinking caps and get to work. Show how the mystery and morality of the world is just as valid and sacred through the eyes of science. Tell someone that reason and science are co-habitable with religion, but that church and state need to stay separate and government needs to stay out of personal religion.
http://www.nationaldayofreason.org

Many who value the separation of church and state have sought an appropriate response to the federally-funded National Day of Prayer, an annual abuse of the constitution. Nontheistic Americans (including freethinkers, humanists, atheists and agnostics), along with many traditionally religious allies, view such government-sanctioned sectarianism as unduly exclusionary.
A consortium of leaders from within the community of reason endorsed the idea of a National Day of Reason. This observance is held in parallel with the National Day of Prayer, on the first Thursday in May (5 May 2005). The goal of this effort is to celebrate reason – a concept all Americans can support – and to raise public awareness about the persistent threat to religious liberty posed by government intrusion into the private sphere of worship.

Spirit Fuel

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There’s a quiet part of me that doesn’t get to speak up very often. It’s the part that tries to find some spiritual identity, an awareness of the importance of an inner life, balance, centeredness, love, and thinking beyond my own life and problems.

Spirit. I don’t really like names for things so complex and abstract. But what else do you call something as big as our whole inner life? These days many of us are trying to figure out who we are deep down. I thought I’d share some of my thoughts, since I was so bold as to put spirituality in the description of my blog. So who am I deep down?

I’m not religious. I have read a lot about Buddhism and it’s thinking. I was really into Zen for awhile, probably because of its quietly passionate detachment. And more recently I’ve learned about the thinking, spirit and practice of yoga. One of the main yoga texts is the Bhagavad Gita, which is an amazingly universal and powerful spiritual text, and it’s centuries older than Christianity. But I don’t really practice any of these regularly. I like to think I don’t need to lean on any religion or spiritual practice. That I can manage by my own wits. But a little voice, a very quiet one, manages to whisper to me once in awhile, “Please don’t ignore me”.

It’s a voice that exalts in beauty, wonders at rainbows, falls in love, is thankful, really thankful for what I have. It’s the calming voice of a soothing mother, comforting me in times of doubt. It tells me that if I did my best, I can feel good about it. But it also tells me when I could do better. When to forgive myself. When I need to change a behavior, when I need to apologize for something. I guess the conscience could be a spirit of sorts. But so is the wind.

This soft voice is at times much more powerful. When I allow the time to dwell upon it, muse on it, it tells me I am timeless, that all history passes through me, that I am a part of something magnificiently huge. It tells me I am connected, all the time, with and by something I will never understand. That I am safe no matter what happens to me. That my weaknesses are forgiven, that my strengths are gifts, but are not mine to own. I believe there is a scientific explanation for all of the above. A great read about that is “Concilience” by Edward O. Wilson. But the mystery will always remain as to who made the science, who came before the egg or the chicken. In my humble opinion, the more we know, the less we know, and the smaller we get. Humbling.

It tells me that all things, living and otherwise, are mysteriously interwoven, that our planet’s health is crucial, that helping others is not charity, but duty. That compassion is the key. That any power I have is a tool to benefit all. These thoughts are known to be patterns of survival for humans. We all benefit from nourishing our surroundings and ourselves and each other. It worries me that this common sense is lost in all the ideological shouting that seems to go on about religion.

In a nasty and chaotic world, I often feel torn. How do I reconcile so much need in the world with my own self fulfillment? I seek balance: between action and inaction, between self fulfillment and selflessness, between inner and outer life, stress and relaxation. I my case it means flowing toward forgiveness, especially for myself. I often feel I’m not doing enough, for others or the world, but if I get sick over it, the unbalance doesn’t help anyone.

I’m starting to realize that a certain amount of selfishness is not a fault, but fuel to get to the core of our true self. To a place where the fire burns close, where the inner and outer lives feed off each other, rub together, warmed by friction. Personally, I have trouble getting close to the fire. I protect my inner-self, mostly to keep from getting hurt, but it really imprisons me. I only limit myself by keeping my soft self hidden from the outside. Maybe that’s because it’s terrifying to be vulnerable. Does anyone else feel that way?

So if we force ourselves to help others, we are denying that devine friction to fuel our goodness, and we begin to resent those we help. If we cultivate our inner voice and listen to it, we may not find a particularly charitable spirit inside. But through gentle, forgiving honesty with ourselves, we find natural goodness, which hopefully will reach out in some way to benefit others. This can be family, friends, neighbors, strangers, even enemies. That depends on how much you’ve opened your heart. It can’t be faked, really.

I used to feel alone when alone. Now I feel connected, infinite.

Best Feel In Town

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The other night I went to this new health spa, called “Cedars of Lebanon Health Spa”. I was in dire need of some R and R. I’ve been under some stress recently. With my Dad’s surgery, performing a difficult concert, buying a new (used) car (fun but stressful), being on a high stress committee for my job, fooling around way too much on the computer, I needed to stretch out and just take in some attention. So I went. I wasn’t far from my house. Maybe ten minutes. Parking was easy.

I walked in, and was immediately given personal attention. With a smile. Not just how are you, but what’s going on in your life, pretty much anything I wanted to talk about was par for the course. I felt special from the start. I’m thinking, this is OK.

After venting a bit about what was stressing me, which helps relieve it, I was led to a private room, where I stripped to shorts, lay on a comfortable bed, and got a very vigorous and warming massage, pretty much from head to foot. This guy’s hands could devine their way to the tensest, tightest, sorest parts of me. He used a wonderful pine scented oil, refreshing and relaxing. And I’m thinking, I could get used to this.

After that I was installed in a private jacuzzi, with soft candle light, eucalyptus oil, a glass of really wonderful wine, and peace and quiet. Ahhhh. I soaked for a good half hour, thoroughly enjoying the experience, thinking, what’s the catch? The billowing bubbles tickled every corner of my body, melting tension away. When I got out, I was treated to yet another quick massage, this time with a skin nourishing Vitamin E cream to baby my skin some more.

When I finally left, I thought to myself, this is an excellent place. Quality, class, detail. And the cost of joining was only the promise to return and enjoy more of that attention. Pretty miraculous! Hard to turn that down. Maybe I should read the fine print carefully before commiting.

So, what do you think? Should I join? The offer won’t last forever, that’s for sure. The Cedars of Lebanon Health Spa is now offering the Best Feel in Town, for a limited time only.