Electroclash is black tar heroin of pop, and Fischerspooner are dealers hanging around school yards giving away the first taste gratis. Obsessed with their own artifice, it's the kind of music for the night out and the morning after, as well as the soundtrack to washroom sex and k-holes , and useful to those who live vicariously through people who do that sort of thing. They add a bonus DVD with video-some of stage shows so elaborate that they come with wardrobe and make-up credits. This is camp and pop as lifestyle, like what punk is to those with mohawks and directions to the next hall show. With the new major label, write ups in all the magazines and a nation wide tour, expect that lifestyle to be spread with a certain fervour.

camping, pentecostals, cold hard ground.
smores hot dogs, got home exhausted.

ive always thot patty hearst was playing soilder, bored of life as one of the elite, chose to run away and join the radicals, when caught played the poor bambi kidnapped and brain washed.


thinking about smart, i have this feeling that the 15 yr old was bored of her perfect morg family, and so ran away- i am not convinced she was kidnapped, and she was so close to home, and could use the phone at will, and was left alone often, she could have escaped.

stockholm syndrome ?
more exciting t hen home ?

hearst is speaking in favour of smart.
two of them twinned now in reality rather then in metaphor.

writing poems on anti depressents is hard

who gives 5 billion to don johnson

I think that god speaks to me gives me direction, I believe in the incarnation, the immaculate conception, the virgin birth, the ministry of god, the crucifixion and on the third day the physical resurrection, I believe that the host becomes the flesh and body of Christ at mass, I believe in prayer, in the glory of god, in the destruction of ego states.
I believe in the separation of church and state, in queer theory, in discourse, that the pope is hauling us back to the 19th century, in the liberal beliefs of equality, justice, self sacrifice. I believe that much of what is done under the name of god is evil, I believe that other churches have truth, I believe in plurality, I believe Serrano’s piss Christ is holy image link, I believe that you should have the right to speak about anything, and assemble and read, I believe that touching your penis is a good thing, I am scared of augustness view of the body.
I have doubted, and I am not yr ordinary Christian, I am not stupid, blind suppositious, gullible or easily lead.
I wanted to say this, b/c of the tone of some of the people, who grieve me by viewing Christianity as simple thoughts for simple people, and view themselves better then any theist.

ok why are my blogs archives going off and on randomly.
also tatu- how soon is now, the fuck the war shirts on the glad handling leno, the pop a gasket pseduo dyke played as a performance that gives a million indie boys the same hard on as judith butler, turning mopey moz into exquisite synth pop that you bounce along to, their accents, all of it, the conquest of artifice, but in a good way.

i love you TATU

as per my pattern to avoid the real text i get theory out, this time a supplement ot the journal of the old testemant called queer commentary and hte hebrew bible, which contains an essay called Yahweh as Top: A Lost Targum (which means an Aramaic translation or paraphrase of a portion of the Old Testament) , constructed as a dialouge at first b/w yhwh and moses and then later a council of the holy and the perverse (ie de sade, lacan, freud, masoch, yhwh, moses, deleuze), it is dirty, blashpehmous, serious, sacred, frightening, offenisve, moving, fun and anarochnistic.

it also made me think, deeply, about wether my realtionship with god, the god on the cross, and the father figure in the clouds, and the holy spirit who chides and castigates in love could be viewed as a freudian construct. namely, is giving up everything, grovelling at the feet of some one more powerful, begging to die, expected to die- masoschistic in my part. is notcing his aching, and dying body dragging the cross, being whipped, and strung up and left, gaining comfort in him being strung up and begging to be forsaken sadistic ?

am i a bottom for jesus or a top ?
am i versatile ?
when considering christs penis and his sexuality, the erotic compoents of his redemption, why do i call him genderless ?

is their an erotic, a queer element to that love ?
if so how does that tie into the vertical, father and son realtionship i already have ?

today, after prayers, i read romans straight through, and i got to that passage, 1:26, and its commendation and i realized i cannot love paul, for all of his power and grace, for all of his intense desire to do right... but i love christ.


i thot i got over all this, and was a good boy and didnt think about such matters, and it isnt even really paul, it is paul used as a cudgel to knock some sense into us faggots.

i need to view paul not as a tool of evil men in the 20th cent. but a good man in the 2nd.
paul and me, its visceral hatred, unrealted to simple things like reading the text as close to the orignal as possible.

It is like the grunting of pigs
St Bonaventure
Sex is nothing but two minutes of squelching noises.
Johnny Lydon

here now. moz la and bed sit homos

i cant find the roman poets ones.

his leda and the swan, chaos and anger, violent as rape is violent.
his roman poets, the langauge impentrabile, like all will decay.
the blue ones, with the name of the poet in that limestonemarblechalk white, god that blue, the blue of heavens and skys and praries, the blue that agnes martin was scared of.
the scrappy trashy sculptures white washed and renamed so that they maintain all the dignity of history.
god i love him
twombly, i havent thot about him in months, but now on ash wednesday, struggling for breath and calm, he comes to me.
twombly i love you.

the unrivaled joy of the mark making, the elegant swoops, the colours, that rapturus white and that sombre green that grounds it.
the lines remind me of the wcw poem about queen annes lace "taking the wild field by force"

gateway tomorrow.

today on the subway, i met ruby and she asked me why i was catholic.
not of my own volition i told her it was b/c i thot it was the truth.

The Vatican is drafting edicts to bar gay men from becoming new priests, but
thankfully, they haven't gone as far as playing McCarthy, asking the already
ordained if they are now or have ever been a faggot. This is a continuation
of the Catholic Church's anti-sexual doctrines, and they're shooting
themselves in the foot with sexual issues time and time again, all because
of disordered theology and misunderstandings in1800-year-old Christian
scripture.

The theology that the Pope and others are officially giving is that Paul,
who permanently influenced how we view sex and wrote most of the non-Gospel
New Testament, thought that Man and Woman were a perfect pair, descended
literally from Adam and Eve. The Vatican has disavowed Adam and Eve, giving
it up to evolution, bur that pair has grown larger. Being allegorical, Adam
and Eve cannot be refuted with facts; by tying ideology to poetry, the text
becomes even more tangled then it was in the first place. If you read Paul's
letters to the early Church, he is sorting out controversy that has sprung
up, and he is not the most patient man to do that. He was confused by his
own sexuality, hated women, and feared the body.

This is where the fear of homosexuals becomes deeper than the Adam and Eve
view. The Vatican only views sexuality as practical, and they receive this
from Paul and the early Church fathers who learned from him. This leaves
people whose sexuality is more complex in an awkward place, as well as those
who reject Paul as a contrary and difficult man.

It also leads to questions from those who reject Paul implicitly, following
Priests, who have moved past the need for sex, sacrificing it to God. To be
a priest is to recognize that sexuality is not the core of one's being. It
is also a strange recasting of Paul's sexual ethics. Most queers reject Paul
because the idea of man and woman, husband and wife as perfect pair, cannot
be meshed with who they are. Priests reject Paul as a way to move past the
body and onto the spirit. If queers are willing to move from their view of
the body, into the spirit, like everyone who follows that path, then I fail
to see the problem. More simply: celibacy is celibacy.

A complete acceptance of any sexuality, though, is a far ways off. The
problem at hand, is a problem of tradition and history. The dominant one now
is one of fear and loathing towards all things sexual, and the only way
battle that fear is to find other threads in the tradition. If we inform the
world of people like St Theresa de Avila, who received visions while in
orgasmic rapture, or St Julian of Norwich, who talked of the body with grace
and joy, maybe we can make progress towards eventually reflecting our own
sexual diversity in the Catholic Church.

Look at Christ on the cross, and see that he has a penis, as plain as his
arms or hands or feet. Because Paul was fearful of Christ's penis, the
church has been too, so that people who are fearful of it are in power and
control. Those who have acknowledged not only the presence of sexuality, but
taken it as a gift and reveled in the diversity of that gift, are suspect.
To be closeted is to be in fear, to come out is to be whole, to give Christ
your self is to be liberated. I want priests who are liberated.

9 people at shrove tuesday, 3 protestants, 3 catholics, 2 athesits and a Unitarian.
Ash Wednesday, i have been talking to Jeff lately, and he called me troubled, which i guess i am.
for lent, i am going to pray in the mornings, and hope that prayer makes me more mindful, more happy, less vulgar.
i am also going to self affirm. I will belive the good people tell me.
i will stop begging them to love me.

also, fish on fridays. yum.
ase

an aesthete of burly dimension
easton sat in his pew in suspension
for disciples seemed neater
their story much sweeter
when he imagined the sexual tension

-- mark p

i think i am disappointed with the new momus album-too arty, not enough songcraft, the really pretty schubert song i heard live in van is in german.
spent the night at brians with shitty chinese and men with brooms.
i dont think that i am getting into ed, even after ohler promised me.

im in a rut.