in andrews room, at his machine, listening to rufus wainwright, its 4 am, im sick and tired and cold and reading christian apologetics. i need god and i dont want to need anyone.

i got evicted, a long storm brewing, came to head over laundry. im sad, b/c i failed. im angry, at myself and at lorna and at the world.

Balthus and Pierre de Kowassiki(sp) are brothers and both artists, that said the work of Balthus is v. modern-as much as he wants to avoid it- he was a bit heremetic post the surrealists, but you can pick out the dali/magritte/di chircho etc connections, and even if you couldnt, you would time it to the 20th century-its colour and its subtle phrasing, its allusions to terror, its obsession with innoncence.


Kowassiki is different- he made drawings in graphite and colored pencil, tennous delicate things filled with pervisions that seem out of place now- the aristocratic lady lording her power, the fear of clergy, certain scatology, that seems to realted to the 18th century satirists (Swift,Voltaire) and pornographers (Masoch, de Sade, Rosseu and his obsessions with flogging)rather then the 20th century terrors. In fact he illustrated gullivers travels, making it less of a childrens book and more of a piss take.



if you look at Balthus you know he is 20th century, fearful of admitting it, but there. If you look at Kowassiki (whose name ive mispelt)
he is so hermetic that seeing a drawing of barthes or the date 1990 becomes shocking. (Balthus was the better painter techincally for whats its worth, Pierre never got over his awkardness)

jason coates was my sci. teacher, i rember learning alot and forgetting it all- plate techtoncis, weather, he almost failed me. never spanked.

is qouting burton and proust and mailer and mishima, a way to avoid the wds being my own, a way to talk in code ?

after the sjsa christmas concert i met jason coates, i made a point of using his first name.

coates knew me in grade 8, he was kind and handsome in a safe. blonde way and i fell in lust with him, jacking off to his visage, my hard prick a compus, his face colmbus and the new world

he never knew, never did anything, was kind to me, and that was all i needed

seeing him again, in that same white shirt black pants way i felt differently

i dont need to prove myself, cheif fag at pr-cup, presenting a paper in la in august, making money writing, doing well in school- but seeing him- my joy almost dissapted, repalced with an eagerness- for apporval, for love, for him to hug me and tell me it was all ok

he didnt turn me on in the same way as he did when i was 14, it was a proustian memory now, and seeing his wife, with a child, proving to me that his fertility was used as fecundity was moving



i drove by the school coming home from van in nov, someone-not me- corrected my email and added my blog- maybe jason is reading this

no one else was there from my class, even the staff was rare- belton has become an anglican priest, weaver has disappeared to toronto, mcnaugtaun is in coquitlam, gebers in mexico and the man who destroyed me is back in the mideast, where he seems to go every 3 years or so, Richard Burton travelling to Arabia, w/o the anthroplogical exuse



after sjsa, a drink at new city where nirvanna and elvis and the ramones all played on the juke box. and then called daniel-where we went to whyte, she met thomas- called him sedate, which he is/nt depending on the day- old life and new life got along famously, after that sushi at toyko noodle house and books from wee book-sophocles recopmmnded by dana, swifts collected poem, more filthy then gullivers travels and a cub scout manuel which i collect

about the rant against god, i dont know wether i belive it, and really it was a rant against humanity. i am conflicted about man, cynical and angry at its evil, hoping that it will turn out to be good. im lonely and want to retreat from everyone, and this retreat never seems to work. thomas called my signatue tidal, and i feel like that, like the beach who wants to be shrouded by water permantly, to be drowned in it, but just when the drowning becomes comforting, it retreats. i go to parties, and drink so that i can be honest with my feelings w/o lying. i construct defenses, apodt personaes, mishima called his biography confession of the mask and it feels like i am barely taking of the first mask, maybe i will figure it out, maybe it will all be ok, maybe i will learn balance, not the aestic/aesthic pendulum which i swing on, but a genuine love of man and god and myself.

im listening to kristy mccoll singing fairy tale of new york, and im heading south on 12/23 and i dont want to go, i want to be alone, away from god and man, but thats this week.

next week ill be all about humanity.

thinking about the party last night in the sober light of day, i am more ocnfused. wojeck took his clothes off, and did push ups in a room with two other me, me included, i helped him get dressed later, doing his belt up, i rested b/w his knees and he rubbed my back, somewhere arround 5 am, he sober and me drunk, i got a ride home from him, there was a component of eros that surrounded him, and his interactions with me, and another woman at the party, that siad there was something else there, something that moved past eros and into primal grooming-i realized that i missed touch, the after and before of sex, not the actual fucking.

i have a crush on wojeck, a boy i met at the party i am @. he and i pissed in the same toilet bowl , except i got a hardon, and couldnt piss, and then i sat b/w his leg and we got drunk on champers and then vodka and tonnic, passing the bottle together like a drunkard, its like the old joke: "whats the difference b/w a straight boy and a gay bot, ? a 6 pack.

I met with the lds bishop on Tuesday, and then the stake president on Wednesday.
After meeting with the bishop I got loaded, and I stormed out of the meeting with the stake president, calling his religion bullshit, and telling him to fuck it.

Glenys had friends over when I called her, and she asked if they remembered me, and they replied the gay catholic in the pink shirt.

On the day of Our Lady of Guadeloupe, they prayed for “unborn children” rather then those born and hungry, and the fathers and mothers and communities that work towards feeding those who are hungry.

That quiz I took with twenty-five results and each of them not much different from the last.

I was told that I could not receive the gifts of the Holy Ghost, and I am in awe of this world.

God is cruel, and Christ was not the pleasant man we like to imagine and the dependence on both of them as opposed to any other person, as opposed to family and friends suggests he is less then confident.

I am taking a Christian scripture course in the winter, and everyone is so sure of the glories of their god, of their view of god, and me-well I am not even sure I want god around, I am not even sure god exists.

I’m over my nostalgia for the lds church.
I’m tired of the internecine fighting of protestant denominations.
I don’t want to think about catholic churches history and misery.
I don’t want to part of a world where stoning someone for adultery is a good idea, or excommunicating them, shunning them, shaming them.

I have begun to think that religion causes nothing but discord and sorrow.
I want to reject god.

I find myself angry at the cruelty and capriciousness of the lord, or those who call in the lord’s name, and what mailer said about the Shoah and God has come to my head

He told that b/c of the Shoah, b/c of the horrors of man, that there were tow options, either that god was not omnipotent or if he was, then he didn’t care.

It seems such a cliché to be an atheist b/c you cannot reconcile suffering, but I have become exhausted from seeing suffering as a good thing, as a spiritual exercise.

I want the soul to reside in the belly, and not in the head.
There are people who think that all of their blessings come from god and all there curses come from Satan, I don’t want to believe that.

I want to believe that we conquer our animal natures out of necessity
I want to believe that to be human is to conquer our desire towards hatred and anger and violence not because god thinks it’s a good idea, but b/c it is the only thing that makes us human.

I want to tell god, if he exists, if he is alive, to fuck off.
But I cannot seem to do that; he haunts me, like a bad habit, like a craving, like a compulsion,

The Holy Ghost as a specter found in English manors, the guardian angel as stalker.

Leave me alone.
My lord, my god, forsakes me.

And the followers of the lord let my lie.

i dont know what half of these are

Christian Denomations Quiz
My Results
#1 Liberal Quakerism
#2 Eastern Orthodox Church
#3 Episcopal/Anglican Church
#4 Roman Catholic Churc
#5 Unitarian Universalism
#6 Evangelical Lutheran Church
#7 Unity Church
#8 Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod
#9 Methodist/Weslyian Church
#10 Mormonism
#11 Orthodox Quakerism
#12 Mennonite Brethren
#13 Seventh-Day Adventist
#14 Church of Christ
#15 Free Will Baptist
#16 Assemblies of God
#17 International Church of Christ
#18 Jehovah's Witness
#19 Presbyterian Church USA
#20 Southern Baptist
#21 Presbyterian Church in America/Orthodox Presbyterian Church
#22 Reformed Churches
#23 United Pentecostal Church
#24 Reformed Baptist

continuing on tom my favourite list

Poussin

ruscha

thiebald

bonnard,

two blonde boys snog in the latest Xtina video.

http://www.cnn.com/2002/US/Midwest/12/15/cutest.couple.ap/index.html

maybe i needed a boy, then they wouldnt kick my ass and tell me that i needed to go to hell.

Friday
Dinner at Newman :
Turkey, cranberry sauce, taters, strained conversation, me in a tie
I escaped by nine , made it to the gateway shindig-

Took Thomas, I think I needed a babysitter, to prevent the sentimental disaters that occur with me and booze.

Gave 40 bucks and a guest list/ invite text to Dave, who told me that he read my blog- found it compulsiuve and he would give me a print for Christmas.

As the evening progessed found Adam read it off and on since the summer, and had emailed portions to skip the e-i-c.

Its odd to post with an immediacy that is neither spell checked, grammar checked, that is filled with odd abrreavations and fragments.

Its odd to be this personal, and in return this banal.

Art theory, music reviews, religion, sorting things out, public bleeding

I didn’t think people read it- or those ho did lived in England or Belgium or Australia or Toronto

Locals, gateway locals, reading it, enjoying it, worrying about me.

See I didn’t think I was cared about thre, and now I know people hold a certain kind of affection.

I want a memory and I want to havea certain formalism to memory

I had been reading a fair amount of journal and letters collections this year, and the one I feel closest to is Kenneth Tynan- he who worked on polanskis macbeth and olivers hamlet, wrote about those things and also about cocktail parties and spanking girls.

Gossip is information and information is currency, and every writer thinks that everything in his manuscripts and notebooks and journals will be published to great acclaim one day- im taking the next logical step, elimanting the one day.

I’m exhausted of writing daily but Aspergers kids thrive on ritual, I post here because I have posted here.

Its confession, its poetry, think of me as a sideshow, think of me as The Boy Lazarus.


Sunday-
Betrand is returning to Laval, so we had a sugar shack party with maple syrup, crepes, cider, ginger snaps, singing and taking to Terry about his recent completed conversion.

He stills prays like a Baptist and I still pray like a mormon, although the LDSers in this crowd would argue that there is no lirturgy and rote prayer in an LDS service, so there is no set mormon prayers- patterns emerge though.

Monday

Finished Borges on Writing, interesting politics of translation, esp. the fact that he often translated his own work, then worked with another translator- think of Beckett, who moved his own work from French to English, are they separate texts- is there something more pure if the author is involved- is purity the virtue one requires for translation ?

?

rockwell and moses are selling well again, its time for another recession.

i am dressed in a mauve shirt, pink sweater and purple paisley tie, i have black pants on, in one hour and twenty minutes i will be going to the newman club dinner and dance, where i will eat turkey and its accessories and then i will dance, until about 9 pm, where i will go on the bus to toms work, and take him to the gateway party.

chardin