i wrote a long, long essay about scm tonight, and there is a whole bunch of stuff that is moving around in my head about it, so i am going ot post excerpts i think.

talking to glenys last night, she told me how scared she was of raymonds self confidence--and i thot, i know that he has we need to work thru this, no bullshit, praxis praxis praxis model, and i admire that immensely, and use it--but i think that hes as anxious and worried about shit as the rest of us, just better at hidding it--its the core of the monkey robot debate--monkeys look unstable and alive from the outside, and robots look stable and well not dead, but not organicly alive either--but the robot wears out too. ive seen it. (less specatcualry then me). which is i think why i have to be careful about putting too much on his shoulders--balance in all things (a goal i have never reached)

and something i have been thinking about in regards to drew--east hastings, about 9 pm, was at this renoed, beautiful reclaimed studio/exhibit space in a poor semi industrial section of town...the artist as gentrifer is well written about, and i had a round about good time---but i walked out, down east hastings, and this area was as poor as poor gets--people selling refuse on filthy blankets for cash, and i didnt have two cents to rub together (but had the day before) but i was coming from this upper class event, and i looked posh enough...and about 5 minutes into my walk, there were these clean, whitesome and delightsome, shining baptists from maple ridge or environs...and they were handing out sandwhiches--and i had about three thots at the exact same time

1) well aint they colonisers
2) so are you
3) and they will leave, after gving people food, and when you are that hungry---it doesnt matter where you eat, it doesnt matter which nice baptists will feed you, just as long as you are feed--and the artists are much more likely to fuck you over.

its like being offered dates just underneath the john watch sign, or having a woman ask "wanna date, im really hungry"--and well, i have no problem with sex work, and i have no problem with the ten dollar blow job, and i just didnt have it--and i also thot, was there a better example of uncle michels parctipcon(sp) then the idea of john watch, citizen soilders so obessesed with other peoples vices that they photograph every encounter--and i thot i dont do enough about politics, but is writing about this, writing about john watch enough?

(the pin display i was telling about earlier, i saw them two times in 10 minutes, at the opening, and being sold by a homeless person a block away)

something else happened in vancouver--there was this guy, and he had a hard hustle (food, then money, then food), but he looked puppy dog sad, and fucking hungry--really, seriously, no shitting, hadnt eaten for a month hungry, and cold, and wanting someplace to eat--so we went to tim hortons, and he asked for a sandwhich, and then donuts, and then more donuts, and then a drink and he got about 12 or 15 bux out of me, and i felt really taken advantaged of me, and he was young, attractive, sort of a victorian waif horatio alger sk8tr punk--and i kept thinking and thinking about this--i could afford it more t hen he could, and he was slick because he was hungry, and it was moralistic of me to not give him cash, but i didnt want to be in vestibule with him, and my bank card and i assumed that the poor were criminal...good common sense or something else ?

&this is the weird thing--and this has happened several times, i had a big book with me, that i was half in the middle of, and the guy asked me if it was a bible, and asked me if i was christian or believed in god, and well i gave him my usual shrugging answer, and he assumed it was no, and i thot he must have a pitch for believers and not.

maybe my distate comes from my desire not to be sold to?

here are the excerpts:
the men i talk to think their bodies are too thin, too fat, their dicks are too
small, they are too hairy or not hairy enough,  they had bad
fathering, or no real role models and even if they were raised by
mothers, or with sisters, they get scared around the damage they have
done. The question then is a question of surrivors---how do be men
when men are villains. How do we be men, when our fathers leave, or we
are molested, or our sisters are raped, or our mothers work all day
and into the night. How do we interact with our bodies when we have
never been told about the nature of our copreality. how do we talk at
all, when everyone is so polite and kind and nice, but nothing is
really said. How do we be gentle, and when is it approite to be angry.
What is the difference between a cock, a penis and a phallus---is
there a proper place for all three ?

I have a penis a phallus and a cock. In certain  gender circles,
vagina is remembered as being a sheath for a sword…think of my cock as
the sword, as the cutting violent act. It is often sheathed in my
metaphorical vagina. Think of my penis as the thing that practical and
silly thing that does things with out thinking—it pisses and sometimes
it gets hard, but mostly it just settles bored.  Think of my phallus
as symbolic thrusting power. Phallus has no gender, phallus is assumed
by women, by transvestites, by transsexuals, by men—phallus is
genderless. Phallus is what happens when someone says no means no, or
when someone says fuck off, or someone says this is wrong, or when
someone says bullshit. Phallic aggression gets things done, phallic
aggression is angry. phallic aggression is the nuclear option of
activstis.

I am a messy boy—messy boys play with their
shit, they talk too much, they do not keep their hands in, they yell,
they demand too  much. Messy Boys should be punished. Good boys play
well with others, they are quiet to let the minorities talks, they
keep their hands close to their sides, they are quiet, they have no
demands. I am not a clean boy. I am not a good boy.