Saturday, March 12, 2016

"A Cold Wet Night"

 I went out for a walk in the rain last night. The air smelled of old leaves, and bus fumes. I was leaning against the overhang of Ninety Pine Street. That fine old 'Deco tower.

I like to watch the rain coming down from oblivion.

Ever noticed? It seems to appear just this side of the clouds.

The hiss of tires on wet asphalt. Water rushing down the sewers. The crimson butt end of cars make'n their own Christmas pageants. Rain mixing with steam. Them clouds of steam coming out'a tunnels beneath us.

I was watching rain appear from nowhere. Showers from the empty well of souls.

...and they say there's no such thing as miracles.

Stay Tuned.


"This goes into the Book"

Some have asked me, "...why the dolls?"

Many reasons. I always liked them, and wanted them as a boy. However to the point about them in my adult life. It was was the Great AIDS Pandemic.

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, and family were dying all around us.

Cutting to the chase... 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 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 was 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 the Gay Press hardly said a word...mostly from ignorance, and confusion.
All we knew was that a growing number 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 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 a book if they haven't already. I have a fear that this may be lost. There 'should' be an oral or video history being made while most of us that lived these events are still around..
When the last of us Queer/Hippie/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, Bob, my serious doll thing evolved.
He as it happened Bob 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 abusive 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 Woolworth's. Well one of them, and I got him three Barbie dolls..with a few costume changes.

He loved it!

So on many visits 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 Bob 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 all 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.

 ( I wrote this a few years ago. just came across it...thought it deserved another posting. Yeah this one absolutely goes into my story, and rant compilation "Psalms of a Hungry Child".)

Stay Tuned.

"Beyond Knowing"

I've always loved this Cathedral. "The Sagrada Familia" in Barcelona. The architect  Antoni Gaudi's vision was generations ahead of it's time, and his Cathedral will still be there a 1000 years hence.

...likely 'several' thousand.

We are beings of faith though the objects of our faith changes like clouds in the swift winds of autumn. However these are just the symbols the totems we use for something beyond our knowing.

Places like "Sagrada Familia" are where we are reminded that we are all,...that's 'all' part of something Vast, and Wonderful.

Stay Tuned. 

"I'll Get By"

The above covers the last ten or so years of my life. The top two images are from 2005 or six...not sure. The third, and below pix were taken yesterday morning as I just woke up.

Geez I'm losing my color,...and I usually have 'plenty' of that.

Hey whadda ya want I bleeping almost just died again. ...I'll get to that. As to them other pixs the bottom collage is from when I was five or six. My ink drawing which I did almost 40 years ago. Was for a book that fell through. It's based on a class portrait from when I was 11. 

I usually don't post images of myself, but lately I'm considering my mortality. Ya know crapping out for real finally, and for good.

I mean what with having in the last few years nearly kicked the bucket a few times. Pushing up da daises is kinda on my mind.  Dropping dead I can tell ya gets ones attention real good.

The last few times laying in the meat wagon all strapped in going to the hospital were tad sobering. Not that I feared the act of dying...far from it. I was wondering about what was or wasn't coming next.

As in the next life. 

That "unknown country' what's his name was going on about. "Slings, and arrows", and all that. I should stop right here. This could turn into a feeding frenzy of ornithological mayhem.

Point is I'm soon to find out what the bleep is really going on....or just lights out. Either way I won't mind. As is said if there's nothing I won't know, and if it's a big party that never ends...except for breaks, and vacations, and such I'm swell with it.

Eh,...sorry to bother you with this. Please re-join your lives which are already in progress.

                   Say I was pretty cute there huh...yeah I think so.

"Blood Stains"

These art pieces which I posted earlier are from my "art book" class at the "92nd Street Y". They serve the duel purpose of just getting me out of the house, and getting to the core of my various emotional traumas.

I think they're self explanatory,...or should be. All of the torments I've lived through, and with, and how it informs, but I hope does not control how I live.

The splatter of blood on the last image is to show just that. That I still live in a world where I believe Angels, and Faeries exist, but my traumas touch them regardless. They don't stop them, but yes they do touch them.

In other words my Dreams such as they are are rooted in the grim reality of the world as it truly is.

Which makes those Dreams so precious.

Stay Tuned. 

"What She Really Said Was..."

"People are complete shits, but sometimes despite that they do really neat things."  *New translation of Anne's Frank's famous quote. 

                                                Stay Tuned.

"I Wanna Have Babies"

I want to have babies. Okay let me explain. I want to have babies. I'm real good at taking care of them, and all the crying, and nappies full of yellow crap never bothered me,..who knows why. Well actually I know.

In another life it's likely I was a mommy with a bleeping huge brood of yammering crapping kiddies hanging on to my apron. Anyway that's what I think. It's one of them spiritual things.

I'm just good with kids..probably genetic.  I was swell raising my two sisters kiddies, and they've since grown up to make scads more dough than me so I guess I did a reasonable job.

I love all the chaos, and wonder of them little guys running around nearly getting themselves killed. However they didn't because I had good kiddie radar, and was always at the right place, and right time to keep them safe, and noisy.

No I never did that "Sesame Street" condescending crap. 

Gimme a break. Naw it was a steady diet of the 1940's, and 50's Warner Brothers Acme cartoons for them. Good enuff for me good enuff for them! Ah how we thrilled to "Wile E. Coyote" get smashed to jelly again, and again. If that ain't ain't a great lesson on how the world really works I don't know what is

Well that, and them Acme products that explode slice dice, and generally create handy, and useful deranged mayhem as needed.

All this, and the swell feeling of love, and assorted un-namable emotions ya gets as the little maniacs are asleep in your weary arms.

So yeah Queer pervert Commie layabout that I am give me your kiddies, and I'll do them right. Btw I'm real swell at story telling, and lullaby's.

Btw I also would really love to be a Queer Scout Den Mother. I'd be especially good at that. I'd teach the dear little Fags all the Queer survival lessons I've learned in a near century of surviving in this demented hell hole. 

Stay tuned.

"Sissy Meditation II"

Sissies Queers Faggots gave the world Color Magic, and Liberated Loving! I hear "straight gays" say, "...We're Just Like You!" "We're just like everybody else."


We are Not!

Never were never will be. We're Different..'Very' Different!

Imagine being on Fire!

On Fire!

BURNING BURNING BURNING, and Not being Consumed!

We're reborn from second to second.

Every cell every atom!

We wear a skin of Flame!

Our eyes are glowing coals of Jade, and Gold.

Our words are lightning, and our Dreams ignite Stars! we are 'not' like everyone else.

The act of creation is continuous. Walt Whitman shared his Dreams his Nightmares his Confusions his Joys as a 40 year long poem! This is what his "Leaves of Grass" was, and is.

A Life Statement a Life as a Celebration!

One long prayer to Forever.

The living bits of our joined creations filtered through pen paper brush canvas keyboard screen sky camera studio, and mic this is the collective voice of our Souls.

We say to Eternity We are Here We Dream We Create We Matter.

 This is who We Are.

This is How We Live.

We Burn.

We are the Fire that can 'Never' be put out.


I was going through my "Stacks" my piles of work. ...'found this spiffy tome. Yes as so my of my comrades have implored me. I will issue that damned book. Especially since I could kick the bucket real easy lately.

As I get better I'll put more work into compiling, and editing something more or less the skies comrades! the skies! 

Stay Tuned.

"Why with the Toys?"

                          "...Because I loves'em. Next question."

Fox News: "So...Uncle, what's with all the toys?"

Uncle: "Cause I Loves'em."

Fox News:"...So then you 'do' believe in Santa."

Uncle: "What?"

Fox News: "...and Faeries, and Angels, and the Free Lunch."

Uncle: "...Yes but..."

Fox News: "So how long have you been a Communist Homosexual?"

Uncle: "Hey I was asked here about my book, "The Sandman, and Me."

Fox News: "...And you spent decades pushing your agenda on the air."

Fox News" "Would you care to explain your relationship with "Tink?"

Uncle: " mean Tinkerbell?"

Fox News" "The possibly underage faerie of acquaintance."

Uncle: "You nuts she's 648 years old!"

Fox News: "...and Daffy Duck. A known anarchist, and drug addict."

Uncle: "About my book..."

Fox News: "We have found an essay by you, "Satan is my Co-Pilot."

Fox News: "Also a fresco you did depicting Hitler Stalin Reagan, and Nixon in Hell involved together in physically impossible erotic behaviors."

Uncle: Now I can explain that,...see I got a call from Yoko Ono, and..."

Fox News: "Is it true you put 'Vinegar' on your fries,...Like-the-French."

Uncle: ""

Fox News: "Uncle...?"

Uncle: "....I need to call my Agent."

Stay tuned.

"Flamed at Both Ends" ...Ouch!!

I've been writing drawing dreaming up a storm...above below is old stuff yeah. I slaps it up to illustrate the point that we gots to make ART crap all over the damned place. Dammit make art thingies.

That, and get'em out to the World!!!

We all think dream make this stuff anyway. Well we need to start making it  by the metric ton like we made Sherman bleeping tanks, and B-fucking 29's during that last big ass War against that Paper Hanger!

That's WW-fucking-2 kiddies. Google it!.

This Gleeful Noise is the only way out'a this stupid destructive unimaginative 14th century head chopping over taxed no health care no education nothing good on TV or the damned internet shit storm we're wandering around in!

It's a fucking Nightmare from the worst parts of the bleeping Koran! ...and no I don't mean art world art. That chase the money shit...fuck'em all to fucking hell or a place of ironic repentance at least. 

Making  bullshit that the collector class likes or thinks is a sure that jerk that makes zillions by having his assistants paint poka dots which he takes credit for, and laffs all the way to the bank over.

I'm having an Art Fever comrades!

It's more powerful than a coke speed angel-dust crack whiskey Rush!

Somebody Stop me before I Paint Again!!!  

Stay the Bleep Tuned.

"Change We Can Believe In?"

I was on the subway today. The No. 4 headed downtown late in the afternoon. School is out, and normally I can't stand it. The youngsters make too damned much noise, and kids from the "Hell" schools might stab or shoot you for the fun of it.

I love New York.

However this time it's different. Now'n then one sees young Queers. Sign of the times. So many are out so much younger that we were.

I guess it the information technology is telling young *Sissy boys that there's a whole Queer world out there.

Well I'll skip the sociology, and get to the point. There were these two Queer boys clearly in lust, love or some variation of teen madness for each other.

It was good to see.

They weren't especially beautiful. They was just standard issue kids like we were. Like I sez it was just nice to see. It's nice to see love in any form. I remember seeing a lesbian couple so clearly in the absolute depths of love for each other.

I was moved to tell them how swell they looked together.

No they didn't pull out matching pearl handled 45. automatics, and fire at me till I was a greasy spot. ...this time.

I guess they didn't notice my "Fuck for Peace" tee-shirt.

They was all smiley faced, and lovey dovey.

" sweet."

Years ago a dear woman friend said, "...the problem with you is you're in Love with Love."


So in honor of blind lust, love, and that great soup of un-namable emotions that comes with it here are my few jots.

*"Sissy" has become an endearment of resistance to the mainstreaming of Queerdom. Yeah very nice getting married pushing strollers voting republican, and all. However sorry no we're not like everybody else. At least we didn't used to be.

Dear saint Quentin Crisp once said, "'ll know your free when you become boring." Well straight-gays are the most boring social group I know. ...pity. We used to be so much more interesting wild, and fun.

Stay Tuned.



( I wrote this a long time ago it’s one of my fav’s. So here I inflict it on you again.)

I love Nijinsky. As a youth I read everything I could find about him. I
longed over the historic photos that survived. It isn’t that I wanted to
be a dancer. It’s just that his story his strange wonderful painful life

spoke to me.

It touched the very center of my Soul.
Perhaps it’s good that we’re separated by half a world, and now
more than a century of apocalyptic history. Otherwise I would have
followed him about.

If I were 15 or 16 had access to a time machine, and could speak
French German, and Russian I’d be his stalker.

Plot for a short story.

A Queer Colored teenager from the 21st century pursues the object
of his confused dreams. All this amid the intrigues of 1911 Moscow. I
can see Romola Nijinsky’s long suffering wife sitting me down in my
hearts desires study.
She pours me mint tea.

"…young man"
"You must understand that my husband is very busy".

Steam curls above my cup.

"His work is very important, and he can’t be disturbed".

"I just want to see him for a moment I say"
"Please I want to look into his eyes".
"To see his Soul".
"I must understand him".

"I wish the same said Romola,…so do we all that love him."

Reaching for the tea pot Romola asked.

"…does your mother know where you are?"

That’s as far as I take this dream. How to explain to my time
machine becoming a lad again or YouTube.

Stay Tuned.


For those that wonder this page is to help me put together my book "Psalms of the Hungry Child". A compilation of my scattered "Scribbles" through the ages. My deranged rants Queer desires calm, and or troubled stories, and various other unidentifiable jots.

Chapter 8, "My Fucked Up Dirty Secrets"

Yeah 'that' goes into the damned book too. I figure some number of blank sheets ending with, "...that's what I did not once, but countless times."  ...and I'd do it again!

The readers would be invited before hand to write on the blanks all that they think I was up to. All the bleeped up crap they imagine...or 'know' I did. This with inserted photos charts testimonies,...see above, the works.

'Be the most popular part of the book.

I might devote a whole other future volume to just the reader's entries. Then I'd pitch it to Netflix, and finally retire to the standard I so richly de-fucking-serve.

There are problems. Many of my rants are profoundly dated, and so un-funny. Others with age are just plain stupid. However wanton desire, and strong confused emotion are timeless so there's plenty to choose from.


Stay Tuned.

"Heaven, ain't what you think"

John Donne, Enrico Fermi, and George Herriman, he invented Krazy Kat, were in a bar in one of heaven's rougher neighborhood's. Ya know, that real scary part near Hell's Gate.

The guys was shoot'n the breeze, and getting sloshed.

Jesus was behind the bar mix'n drinks, and Bessie Smith was on stage singing some of her new stuff. Mozart was playing backup on base, and electric fiddle, with Bob Marley on keyboards.

Harriet Beecher Stowe was passed out in front of the cigarette machine. An unlit Chesterfield sticking out of the side of her mouth, and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels at her feet.

Heaven is really hard for some people.

Just then Queen Elizabeth the First, a very young Eleanor Roosevelt, a stoned Marilyn Monroe, and Emma Goldman wanders in.

Well ol' George invites the gals over for a few, and they has a merry old time together. Hey it's Heaven right?

As usual Donne eventually sez something stupid, and anti-Semitic, Emma leaps across the table rips off his wig, and punches him in the nose.

Enrico swings at her with a beer bottle the Queen bashes 'him' with her rod'n scepter!

...fore ya knows it they's rolling around on the floor beat'n the crap out'a each other.

Marilyn was passed out in the ladies shitter, and missed the whole thing.

Jesus who was on the phone with his nosy Mother didn't notice, and the folks on stage had seen it all before. What the heck they'd already been paid.

Anyway in walks Zeus, and Yahweh....

Stay Tuned.

Friday, March 11, 2016

"Hot Seat"

This image reminds me of daze long ago when I was a trapped like a bug in the somewhat loving amber of my family. Yeah family sucks. They're a tub of disappointment, and irrational hassles.


'But you love these impossible people. Not only that they'll probably be the only ones that will 'still' be with you at the end.

What with so many losses amongst friends, and family lately this has been on my mind. Well 'that', and...

"The hot red or red hot plastic seats of my dad's old Buick."

That's why I posted the above pix. 'Driving back from the beach with a butt full of sand weighed down with my little sister Sylvia on my lap, squeezed on either side by my big brother John, and older cousin Jimmy while we all sat on the red hot back seat of dad's beloved '58 Buick!

I think this was a torture unique to 1950's western industrial cultures.

Being the hapless victims of the scared items of industrial convenience entertainment, and planetary cultural hegemony. Oh the mid-20th Century American dream of TV dinners plastic, and cheap gas!

We shall never see their like again.

So yeah that's Exhibit "A" up there,..sort'a. We all would have been packed into the back seat. Also being at the beach I wanted to wear my mom's sunglasses. I wasn't allowed.

Only mothers movie stars, and drug addicts did that, and my old man wasn't about to let any of these careers befall me. Well it was a close thing, but no I never got pregnant.

Drug addict movie star mother no.

Queer communist broadcaster yes.

I was just trying to make dad proud.

Wow! They just don't make'em like this anymore. In Heaven every body drives the 1950's Detroit iron of their dreams!


Stay Tuned.

"Monk Dreams"

I had a very vivid dream long ago about a monastery, and sky blue robed monks. There were newly built pagodas sitting in pastel green fields of grass. I could smell the fresh cut wood they were made from. I remember in this dream running up the new wooden stairs with many other boys.

Monastery lads decked in simple robes the color of the afternoon sky.

I remember gardens of crystals, and tall dark blue mountains in the distance. There was music too. A kind I's never heard before. Played by instruments I didn't recognize.

I always felt that someday I would find this place. I always felt that this was where I was supposed to be, and this dream was calling me home. 

Stay Tuned.

"Easter Bunny Laid Off!"

The "Federal Department of Fantasies, and Fictitious Characters" today in what will sure to be seen as a controversial move has laid off a number of it's employees. This is a cost cutting act which the administration was forced to take. 

This because of the refusal by the Republican controlled House to pass the funding bill for the Fantasy Department.

Republican majority leader Himmler stated that funds for the department of fantasies was a "typical liberal waste of funds". Also that these resources were needed for far more "practical, and necessary projects" such as the "Mexican Wall".

The Easter Bunny the Sandman Tooth Fairy Batman the former Saint Christopher The Little Prince Peter Rabbit Santa's Elves, and a number of other beloved fictional characters were all contacted by email, and let go.

Santa, and Wonder Woman because of their importance to the democratic base were given temporary reprieves until fiscal 2018. Superman because of his connections with the Defense Department is for now exempt from these economic cuts.

Some because of high profiles such as Batman have already been hired by commercial interests. Others such as the Little Prince, and Peter Rabbit with smaller financial probabilities will likely retire, and enter private life. 

Though there is the possibility of a small livelihood for a few magical personalities through speaking engagements.

More on this story as developments warrant.

Stay tuned.

"Wanna hear a story?"

This blog has been hostile, and unpleasant for far too long. Granted things suck, and suck real bad too, but that's no reason to be nasty all the time,..mostly.

Anyway I've lately been digging through my papers, and found some stories I'd written in the old daze. I was tinkering with children stories back in the day.

This in particular, *"Radio Nine, and One Half" I did just before 9/11,..I think. I never finished it. It's just two short fragments I still mean to develop.

"Radio 9 1/2"

Once upon a time there was a radio station called "Radio, Nine & a’Half", and it lived on a sandbar called Blue Oyster Reef. This pinch of blue sand was somewhere between the Statue of Liberty, and the Brooklyn Bridge. I say "somewhere" because from time to time without much warning it liked to move.

Anyhow this radio station was like most others in that it had a tower, a little studio, and microphones. However unlike the others it was powered by bicycle hooked up to an old truck battery. Also the studio had bunk beds, a trampoline, electric trains, a very nice doll house, and a fireplace.

There’s a tree too.

An old elm grew up through the middle of the radio station. The children that live there weren’t sure if the tree was planted in the studio before they were born or if the station was built around it.


Three little kids live on Blue Oyster Reef. They live there, and run the radio station. I’m not sure how they got there or why, but there they are. There they live, and there they're happy to be. Their names are Betty, Toby, and Zuzu, and they’re all nine, and a half. Well actually Betty is nine, and three quarters, but never mind.

This btw is how the station got it’s latest name, Radio 9 ½. The kids had called it other things depending on their moods, and events of the day. For a while it was Radio Dirty Socks when they were too lazy to do the laundry.

It was Radio Bird Doodie that time all them sea gulls showed up, and Radio Pancakes when Zuzu surprised everyone one morning with breakfast in bed on the air. However they settled on Radio 9 ½, and decided to keep it even if they got real old like 16 or something.

Now this radio station Radio 9 ½ is a secret station. It can only be heard by kids. If an old person, say someone 22 or 68 tuned in they would only hear static, but kids would get the real deal.

One of the most popular shows is "Ask Me Anything", which is hosted by Zuzu. She usually does it from a tent on the roof. Toby runs a cable’n mic up there, and she’s good to go.

Kids from all over the City call up, and ask her questions that adults can’t handle. A boy from East 3rd Street on the Lower Eastside called in,...

"Hi Zuzu something’s been bothering me a long time."

"No problem" sez our hero from her roof top wigwam, "What is it?"

"Where do boogers come from?"

To which Zuzu deftly answered, "The Devil!"

"Next question."

"Who invented Summer School?"

"Same guy."

Radio 9 ½ does other programs of strong interest to kids. Like serious discussions amongst all three hosts about where farts come from, and more important where do they disappear to.

They give lessons on how to read, and speak backwards. Specials on the different kinds of bugs in your house,..and what to feed them. How to beat up bullies, and still be alive afterward, and what to do if you’re lost, but don’t want to go home right away.

*(Okay that was part of my outline sketch for the idea of the place. What follows is a tentative in the life of the kids on the reef. Consider all this an unsold pilot episode.)

Toby, and Zuzu were sitting on the shore, and eating some of Betty’s fresh baked animal crackers. Betty likes to make yetis, moth-men, two headed unicorns, and other folks that never made it to the Ark. Blue sand between her toes, and starring out at the harbor Zuzu was making noises.

"...Ipp, pip, pip, ipp." She was trying to make up a rabbit language.

"Rabbits wouldn’t talk like that" said Toby.

Zuzu smiled, and offered Toby the back half of a winged elephant, she’d just bitten off the head.

The air was fresh today. The ‘Jersey refineries, and waste plants were down wind for most of the week. That, and the sky was a bluey, blue, and the harbor was sea green. Just like it was before everybody started using it as a toilet.

Toby asked Zuzu,..

"Where were we before we was born?"

Zuzu looked over to Governors Island, and said, "We all comes from Heaven. That’s where everybody lived. Us the animals, maybe the trees, and bugs too."

"How do you know all that? Do you remember?"

"It’s a kind of remembering" said Zuzu. "A remembering, but not exactly. I just know is all."

"See I have this happy feeling in me, can’t help it. I think that’s the part of Heaven I brought with me."

Zuzu looked at Toby. The setting sun made the brass rims of his round glasses bright. The reflection gave each of Toby’s eyes a golden halo.

"Can you remember anything from when you weren’t born?"

Toby thought a moment, a baby crab crawled by his big toe.

He said, "Just before I fall asleep I hear voices,..singing."

"Sometimes it’s far away, sometimes it’s all around, but it’s always there."

Zuzu leaning close, and asked, "What do your voices say, what do they sing?"

"I’m not sure" said Toby bringing his knees up to his chin. "I don’t remember the words. Just that it’s nice, and I always have good dreams afterward."

Toby, and Zuzu sat watching the sun set behind the bright noisy island of Manhattan.

"Your voices,..that’s the part of Heaven ‘you’ kept said Zuzu."

A blimp shaped like a winged cat, and advertising pet cloning passed over the Brooklyn Bridge, and headed for Times Square.

Stay Tuned.

"Faerie Tales",...sweet'n sour

Faeries have been seen all over the world. In forests, jungles, even lawns, and backyards. Wherever there are flowers, trees, vines, and tall grass there you'll find them. The tall wild grass seems to be their favorite though.

Yes they love being amongst the blooms, and flitting about neon signs. They skim over ponds, and hover between the limbs of trees. However the sea of green grass the wild grass has a special attraction for them.

If you wish to meet a faerie go there. To the wide fields of the countryside. Step softly, and whisper your greetings for they are easily startled. It would be good if you bought a gift.

Perhaps hard candy or a shard of bright colored glass. Even better a small flute or tiny toy harmonica. These they especially prize for they love music. Bright colors, candy, and music.

Now when you see them don't be surprized. Because at first glance they seem to be children. Graceful children with wise bejeweled eyes, and shimmering wings to match. Though very young in appearance they may be old, much older that you,..or your mother or grandmother. Legend says that faeries live as long as trees, maybe as long as the mountains.

Seeming frail they actually have the strength of ten men. Because of their years, and strength. Faeries have the wisdom to live in love, even innocence. The innocence of age. The gentleness of experience. These beings sing, play, dance, and dream both day, and night.

Joy, and a deep reverence for life, all life is their way. Kindness is to them what breathing is to us. True they are not Angels. They have faults, make mistakes even, though rarely, commit sin. They are fallible, and mortal, but are slightly holier than humans.

There are legends, stories told by soldiers through the ages. Tales of wounded, and lost soldiers laying helpless in jungles or forests. Stories have been told by these men about seeing "them" the shining ones. All of man's wars have tales of winged children made of light that save the wounded, and maimed.

These bright beings would seek out, and find the forsaken, and heal them. Wounded survivors from the wars of the Pharaohs to the tank battles in Iraq have sworn that kindly, winged sprites had saved them.

With smiles, and gentle touchings their wounds healed. Shattered limbs were made whole, burns vanished. All pain, and terror would lift, and fade as like the passing of a storm. Then in a moment. In a blink of a whisper they'd vanish in a blur, and shimmer of rainbows.

Leaving only a faint breath of their songs.

"Me my Dad our Buick, and the Faeries"

Well there I was in bed with what I've told my pals is, "a flu, cold, cough, fever monster thing!" It's almost like being stoned. Everything is sort of sideways, and different colors. I'd be enjoying this if I wasn't so sick.
Anyway being in this frame of mind I naturally thought about my wee pals the faeries. Gee how I loves them. City faeries are neat, but you have to be quick to spot them. Hey this is a tough town, and faerie or not you have to be fast to get over around here.

As I mentioned in one of my story's city faeries are attracted to neon lights. Well that, and some of the brighter traffic signals. It's not unusual in summer btw to see city faeries around pizza, and ice cream stands,..the neon. They like the ruby red of tail lights too. In fact that's how I saw one of my first faerie's.

This happened a few thousand years ago when America was great, and even regular Joe's had jobs, dough, and laff's. Well one night in this long ago happy time I was sitting next to my dad on the front seat of our old Buick.

A 1955 sky blue, and white two tone if ya wanna to know. Well as is the habit of kids everywhere I was squinting my eyes to make the passing street lights look weird. I had just begun to do the same with the tail lights ahead of us when I see something.

Wow that's a big bug I thought. Only when I stopped squinting it wasn't. A bug that is. It wasn't tinker bell either. Ya'know whole generations of rubes got real wacky ideas of what faeries look like 'cause of all the Disney propaganda. Thing is faerie's is just like folks. Just alot smaller,..with wings,.. and feelers, sometimes extra arms'n stuff, magical powers, eh halos, and eh. Well okay faerie's ain't like folks at all, but so what.

Well there I am sitting next to the old man as we're roll'n through Queens on our way back to Brooklyn, and there's these little faerie guys darting around the tail lights of the Oldsmobile in front of us. Hey, com'on ya can't make this stuff up.

Now ya'see by this time I'm an 'experienced' kid, and know better than to tell my dad that I'm seen'n glow'n bug people buzz'n around the butt-end of the car in front of us. Hey gimme some credit. I still remember the penance I had to do for one of my previous visions.

I foolishly told my folks that I saw flaming demon bat beasts flying out of an open manhole on Flatbush Avenue. My mom made me kneel on a steel rod while I said the rosary ten times over for being in league with Satan. Heck I never even met the guy.

Sooo, I keeps my young trap shut, and enjoys the doing's of the wee folk in front of us. If dad saw anything he wasn't about to tell me. He knew better too. Still they was fun to watch, and they meant no harm.

Yes very interesting, but Uncle Sidney what the hell are you getting at with all this?

Ah, I'm glad you asked! See with the warmer weather coming we has to prepare for "Faerie Time!" As we know from tradition handed down from kid, to kid. Generation to generation, like the varied rules of stick ball or ring-a-leave-v-o, or ring something. It varies from block to block around the world, but you know what I means.

Like "Ring Around the Rosy" passed from kid to kid for nearly a thousand years. The knowledge of "Faerie Time" in the same way has come to the 21st century.

Come June at midnight on that Longest Day all "Faeriedom" awakes, and begins their summer frolics! Which is to say it's their mating, and general screwing around w/humanity season. Eh, playful screw'n around. They never hurt anybody. 'Least not on purpose. One thing tho' don't rob or try to hurt them they don't kid around about that sort'a thing. They may be seriously cute,..some of them, but they have sharp thorns. Get my drift?

Otherwise we're all welcome to dance the summer away with them. That business about them abducting folks for years is crap told by the Church, and the CIA. They don't do that,..the demons on the other hand. 'Word to da wise,..stay clear of them gumba's.

How long has this been going on? "Faerie Time" No one knows. Maybe it's from before Ur or Babylon. Legends is full'a all sorts of traces about "Faerie Times", and it's goings on. That Shakespeare story kind'a got some of it right, but he mixed it up with all the class, and culture bullshit of his times. I guess we all do that in a way.

But "Faerie Time" is real. My older cousins told me, and I told my special friends at school, and they told their friends, and so, and so, and so through the years, and generations, and ages to come. An unbroken tradition from kid to kid.

When I was little I danced in a faerie circle with the sweet wee folk by the light of a full moon in Prospect Park. Then again on warm steamy night in Central Park when I was a happily crazed, and horny teenager. Now in my demented pissed off late middle years I still hear their songs.

Bless the little fuckers!

Stay Tuned.