Saturday, April 22, 2017
Standards of Beauty
-My first husband was ugly. Like, I mean
“Meet-him-on-the-street-and-scream!” ugly.
-So nobody would steal him?
-You'd think. But Ugly became the vogue and
I had to fight the women off of him!
-What happened to the lovely blond hunks?
-Drug on the market, so they became queer for
each other
-Nothing happens in a vacuum.
-Uh huh? Especially the one in their collective head!
-Now now! So cruel to the boy dolls!
-I suppose. Our...uh...conversations, yours and mine,
always end up stupid shit, don’t they?
-Awaiting the right subject.
-You have patience!
-Only thing I’ve learned.
Labels: junks, low conversation, patience, queer, ugly men
Friday, April 07, 2017
Not Ever Getting Old
Budgey never objected to his
title of Errand Boy, though
almost forty.
But Mr Delser did. When he
took over, Personal Messenger
bestowed.
It was sensed in the small
company, then, that most of
the teasing should cease:
the standard stuff about
not having a girlfriend etc.
Budgey got famous in New Haven,
though, not for his new title, but
because he was attacked shortly
thereafter by a maniac at Church
and Chapel at High Noon.
Beaten with his leather bag,
then with his Converse sneaker.
In front of an attentive crowd.
Last, this maniac, Nels Nelsomer,
wrestled down jeans and jockeys,
and attempted to ram the sneaker into
rectum.
All the while screaming of Puerto Ricans!
At that point, the police arrived, macing
and clubbing the agitated nut into Catatonia.
Mr Delser ordered Budge to take a week off.
When he returned, all his recipients
sympathized, but after a few weeks began
teasing him on the girlfriend matter again.
Then, a development! When Budgey testified
at a preliminary hearing as the State tried
to avoid a trial and stow Nutty Nils into
a facility for the criminally insane, Defense
produced a blurry tape purportedly showing
Budgey eating at the same Lighthouse Point
hot dog emporium as Nils.
Then by a startling leap of logic: the men
had become acquainted, the whole business
blossoming into a romance, etc.
The assault actually a lover's quarrel!
The State had enough of this nonsense, and
didn't even bother proving that the red
and blue messenger bag shown in fuzzy
closeup belonged to A1 Business Expediters,
and not Budgey.
The attorneys conferred and agreed on Nils
becoming a lifelong guest at the Quinnipiac
Retreat. In the Criminal Wing, but that
did not have to be publicized.
Unfortunately for Budgey, the homosexual
angle stuck, and he was teased about it daily.
Sometimes ingeniously.
As an example:
-Where there’s smoke, there’s fire!
-That’d be mire.
-As in muck and...?
-Wheels within wheels in the preponderance
of Queer Business!
His renewed outrage and affront being
funny always. Never getting old!
The police had asked, by the way, if they
could keep the evidence sneaker for their
museum.
He concurred, dollar entrance fee waived
for him in perpetuity.
Labels: boy, criminal insanity, cruelty, piling on, queer, scapegoat, simple, teasing
Saturday, April 30, 2016
The Dangers of Kidding Around
Harpy’s old weird Grandfather insisted on sitting
on Mark’s lap.
Then he made Mark sit on his with reedy coaxing.
“But I’m afraid I’ll break you down!”
He just about did before sliding off.
We were all laughing like hell by then. Subsequently, Mark sat on all our laps.
General hysteria.
Atmosphere turned with Hobart.
“Jesus! Hobart! I didn’t know you cared!”
We tried to rip off Hobart’s pants to show the evidence, but both men escaped into a closet and locked it from the inside.
Gang never the same after that.
Labels: friends, hysteria, queer, sex, sexual play
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Children and Horses
Shaw and his buds
allowed for sexuality
within bounds: “As long
as they don’t frightenthe children and horses.”
Today with queer shame
wearing away, decent folks
can still sniff other bent comport-
ments in order to take to task, or envy, or both at once.
At any rate, always be keen on any
licentious missteps of another.
The angels can miscue during
pocket pool, and thus may ask.Labels: behavior, horses, judgement, queer, sexuality, Shaw
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tchaikovsky
Was Peter Ilyich
a sexy sonofabitch?
Cashing in his chips
to mask a fatally queer mess?
Or did he swig–-more likely--
polluted water? Oh well, booze
and nicotine and compulsive
wandering rip in. Plus what is
noted depression today. And,
oh yeah, he wrote music
that one critic quipped
held stink you can hear.
That latter more often closer
to roses--and applause. So, on
balance, a surpassing romantic
composer. As for all the rest,
who has a skin thick enough?
God rest him
all road ever
he offended.
Labels: classical music, music critic, queer, romantic, Tchaikovsky
