Ranting, Raving AND Gobbledeegook

Gay sex, to me, is the most complete form of offer and receive. The most sincere form of making love. To have your lover inside you, and you inside him. Almost a form of communion...

If you look at heterosexual sex, it's almost always the man penetrating the woman. (Unless, of course, the man is into being penetrated. I have yet to meet a heterosexual man who practices this. Bi-sexual, yes.) While they may get to know each other's bodies intimately, they know each other in different ways. Not so with a gay couple; they know the intimacy of each other the same way.

When I hug the people I love, I often imagine myself melting and wrapping my body around them completely, so that they are "inside me" so to speak. On other occasions I wish for them to wrap themselves around me, so that I might be inside them. Making love to another man, as a gay couple, is the closest example of this that I can conceive of...

(I've been wondering how lesbians must feel, as they have lots of "hugging power", but nothing to hug?)

I love you, I miss you
I'd hold you, I'd kiss you
But the distance is too far to go

As I lay, my heart weeps
I die in my sleep
My pulse is beginning to slow

Your voice is like fire
My funeral pyre
Upon which you lay the word "no"

Yet your love is still there
And so, this I can bear
My companion of ages ago

But still, I must cry
For before my own eye
Is the grinning face of my foe...

My soul is black and tattered. It is wearing away at the edges. I keep it underfoot so that I know where it is, but have almost lost it on more than one occasion. Slowly but surely it is getting smaller and will one day disappear altogether. Perhaps, it is a wise idea for me to look into acquiring another soul to call my own. One that is whole and doesn't smell so bad. It may be black and shiny, as my soul is now, but then again, maybe it won't. I'm looking for a soul that is durable and can be relied upon to stay put. If you know of a soul that fits this description, please inform me so that I may obtain it....

"I must tell you the Evils of Craziness!"

"Oh?"

"Yes. I *mumble mumble*... Then *makes little flapping wings out of hands* DooDooDoo."

*raises eyebrow* "I see..."

"...but, but, but..." "SHUT UP!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" *goes back to sleep on toilet*

1) Never put nail polish remover on your anus.

2) Never use saliva laced with hot cinnamin balls to wash your eyeliner off.

When in the proximity of the Morning Beast, keep your distance. Be sure to keep at least four feet away. As long as you remain silent, and do not make eye contact, he will very likely remain indifferent to your presence. It is best to go about your business, but do not get between the Beast and the bathroom/ television/closet/computer/kitchen. Basically, whatever it is after at the time. All important to the Morning Beast is the glass of Diet Pepsi. To with-hold this all important source of caffine from the Morning Beast would be fatal. If the Morning Beast discouvers that there is no Diet Pepsi in its lair, RUN!!! In the span of 2-3 hours, you will notice that the Beast's vocabulary builds. What started out as grunts and forboding facial expressions, slowly turns into the english language. Once this has occured, the Beast has transformed itself back into Taier, and is generally much more pleasent to be around. It is now safe to give him a hug...

As I enter the darkened house, there is no one here to greet me. Just the persistent cries of a cherished pet. I prepare my dinner, wishing there was someone here to cook for and share my meal with. I switch on the computer, my only link to loved ones whom I cannot touch, or see, or hear. I run my hands through my hair, longing to feel the touch of a non-existent lover stroking it, or brushing it out. My back and sides ache from sitting rigid at my desk all day and am pained further at the knowledge that the gentle rubbing of a lovers hands would make it all go away. There is no one here with which I can share my joys, my desires, my pain, my thoughts. I slip into the hot soapy water of a bath, trying to cleanse my soul of despair. How I satisfied I would be, just to have you with me, my unknown love. And as I slip between the sheets of an empty bed, I cry myself to sleep...

Am I your stepping stone? Your bridge to a better understanding of yourself? Something to keep your feet dry, to keep you sheltered while you dawdle over what and who you are? A train to speed you away from life, reality, thought? How hollow are your words? What are you willing to pay the whore to keep your secrets, your novelty, your status symbol? This is the freaks freak. Everyone gather to see the show! But the supports are giving way, and blood is being draw forth from the rock. The train is in danger of jumping the tracks and the whore, well the whore will just keep on, keep on, keep on....


				*AnatoleX* *Ranting, Raving AND Gobbledeegook*



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		*The Colour Purple...and Eggplants.* No, I'm not talking about the movie. I noticed, during my trip on the 12th of May, that it is not possible for something to be purple and uninteresting. If you can think of something, please email me, because I want to know. Even the word purple is interesting! If you need an example, I give you the Eggplant. Eggplant is not of this earth; it's like some strange alien pod or something of the sort. It has this great rubbery texture on the outside, and a difficult to describe white texture on the inside. It's almost fibrous, but smooth and it never gets caught between your teeth. Eggplant tastes great, despite what Taier says. I've gone out of my way to make a lot of things with eggplant in it lately, and have found that I have a talent for cooking. So, getting back to what I was originally talking about; purple has become my favourite colour. Unfortunately I have no purple in my wardrobe, with the exception of a bit on some ties, so I will have to remedy that. *To Be Without...* To love and to touch and to have it taken away. When Taier explained to me the torture and mental anguish of being away from the one you love, I thought I understood. I was wrong. He used a metaphor of having this wondrous, marvelous thing dangling just out of reach, and the torment it causes to see it and not be able to really grasp it. To feel the tingle on your fingertips where you touched it, and held it and to have the sensations overwhelm you, yet to know that they are slowly fading away. The fear that you will forget these sensations and the way you felt, never to have it again. I feel ill; sick to my stomache. I can't eat, or sleep, and no matter what I do my thoughts return to this wondrous thing and I slowly start to wither. How can one survive this? Taier has been through it once before, and survived, so maybe I can. I'll have to learn how not to breathe, and exist with a perpetual lump in my throat...



		To Know Your Lover, Inside and Out Gay sex, to me, is the most complete form of offer and receive. The most sincere form of making love. To have your lover inside you, and you inside him. Almost a form of communion... If you look at heterosexual sex, it's almost always the man penetrating the woman. (Unless, of course, the man is into being penetrated. I have yet to meet a heterosexual man who practices this. Bi-sexual, yes.) While they may get to know each other's bodies intimately, they know each other in different ways. Not so with a gay couple; they know the intimacy of each other the same way. When I hug the people I love, I often imagine myself melting and wrapping my body around them completely, so that they are "inside me" so to speak. On other occasions I wish for them to wrap themselves around me, so that I might be inside them. Making love to another man, as a gay couple, is the closest example of this that I can conceive of... (I've been wondering how lesbians must feel, as they have lots of "hugging power", but nothing to hug?) *Defeat, yet again...* I love you, I miss you I'd hold you, I'd kiss you But the distance is too far to go As I lay, my heart weeps I die in my sleep My pulse is beginning to slow Your voice is like fire My funeral pyre Upon which you lay the word "no" Yet your love is still there And so, this I can bear My companion of ages ago But still, I must cry For before my own eye Is the grinning face of my foe... *I'm Falling Apart* My soul is black and tattered. It is wearing away at the edges. I keep it underfoot so that I know where it is, but have almost lost it on more than one occasion. Slowly but surely it is getting smaller and will one day disappear altogether. Perhaps, it is a wise idea for me to look into acquiring another soul to call my own. One that is whole and doesn't smell so bad. It may be black and shiny, as my soul is now, but then again, maybe it won't. I'm looking for a soul that is durable and can be relied upon to stay put. If you know of a soul that fits this description, please inform me so that I may obtain it.... The Evils Of Craziness "I must tell you the Evils of Craziness!" "Oh?" "Yes. I mumble mumble... Then makes little flapping wings out of hands DooDooDoo." raises eyebrow "I see..." "...but, but, but..." "SHUT UP!" "Is that so?" "Yes!" goes back to sleep on toilet Helpful Tips From A Shiney Boy 1) Never put nail polish remover on your anus. 2) Never use saliva laced with hot cinnamin balls to wash your eyeliner off. The Morning Beast When in the proximity of the Morning Beast, keep your distance. Be sure to keep at least four feet away. As long as you remain silent, and do not make eye contact, he will very likely remain indifferent to your presence. It is best to go about your business, but do not get between the Beast and the bathroom/ television/closet/computer/kitchen. Basically, whatever it is after at the time. All important to the Morning Beast is the glass of Diet Pepsi. To with-hold this all important source of caffine from the Morning Beast would be fatal. If the Morning Beast discouvers that there is no Diet Pepsi in its lair, RUN!!! In the span of 2-3 hours, you will notice that the Beast's vocabulary builds. What started out as grunts and forboding facial expressions, slowly turns into the english language. Once this has occured, the Beast has transformed itself back into Taier, and is generally much more pleasent to be around. It is now safe to give him a hug... *Of Loneliness and Longing* As I enter the darkened house, there is no one here to greet me. Just the persistent cries of a cherished pet. I prepare my dinner, wishing there was someone here to cook for and share my meal with. I switch on the computer, my only link to loved ones whom I cannot touch, or see, or hear. I run my hands through my hair, longing to feel the touch of a non-existent lover stroking it, or brushing it out. My back and sides ache from sitting rigid at my desk all day and am pained further at the knowledge that the gentle rubbing of a lovers hands would make it all go away. There is no one here with which I can share my joys, my desires, my pain, my thoughts. I slip into the hot soapy water of a bath, trying to cleanse my soul of despair. How I satisfied I would be, just to have you with me, my unknown love. And as I slip between the sheets of an empty bed, I cry myself to sleep... Stepping Stone Am I your stepping stone? Your bridge to a better understanding of yourself? Something to keep your feet dry, to keep you sheltered while you dawdle over what and who you are? A train to speed you away from life, reality, thought? How hollow are your words? What are you willing to pay the whore to keep your secrets, your novelty, your status symbol? This is the freaks freak. Everyone gather to see the show! But the supports are giving way, and blood is being draw forth from the rock. The train is in danger of jumping the tracks and the whore, well the whore will just keep on, keep on, keep on....