slicing penises and roasting testicles in the midwest

andy pink, seaside, as usual —

what i have recently eaten:

2 coffee rolls from dunkin (just finished)

2 coffee rolls from dunkin (yesterday)

1 entire box of quinoa and whole wheat pasta with sauce homemade via trader j (yesterday)

1 bruegger’s lox sandwich (yesterday)

1 big mac (dream)

1 small black child

***

i walked by the starbucks this morning on the way to the dunkin and could see that patrick was watching me. i want to bust through the doors of that starbucks with various props:

1 box of annie’s mac and cheese (old age cheddar, yesterday)

***

i was thinking about those midwestern gays. the ones who have the mannerisms and the gait, but at the same time they are married and have children and are quite happy and content. these are my favorite gays. i wouldn’t describe them as in the closet so much as making a lifestyle choice. everybody knows, as leonard cohen would say, and it’s all good.

to choose to be heterosexual puts in sharp relief the fact that being gay is not a choice. i certainly don’t believe in a “gay gene” — though perhaps there is a “straight gene” — but i don’t consider it a choice. it is neither chosen nor determined but rather a coercion with a boot.

i have also come to the tentative conclusion that i am not a midwestern gay but a northeastern heterosexual. if my immediate association to the penis is to slice it off, douse it with gasoline, and set it on fire — doesn’t that make me less than gay? wax and candles are fine, but the total destruction of the penis — of all penises, globally, including the third world — seems almost man-hating.

i think of burning man as a kind of conflagration of cock and though my musical taste deviates from those of annoying people i should like to attend this festival and perhaps give a lecture about the lifestyle choice of raping men, cutting off their dicks, and setting them on fire. i met a guy on cl (i think i’ve written about him before) who was looking for someone to castrate him because the eroticism of male beauty was making it impossible for him to function on a daily basis. i think sexual desire is its own kind of mental illness, a trick.

are pedophiles prescribed ssri’s? it seems like this would be a good treatment plan. but there’s no greater profiteers than the wardens and their necktied corporations.

in the fantasies of mutilating penises i always seem to want to salvage the testicles from the burnt remains. there is always this tension about placement: hope chest or medicine cabinet? when the second ball doesn’t drop, those i stuff in my empty zyprexa canisters.

i find erect penises boring.

what am i talking about when i talk about sex? this is really a conundrum for freud because he spends a lot of time theorizing about sex but the meta-argument of his work is that all objects are substitutes for other objects. it would be an interesting question to pose to freud: “what are you talking about when you talk about sex, mister so-and-so?”

i blame the mother.

i am sinking and raging and i think the only thing that will keep me from sinking into the belly of the python is text.

when they invent the robot egg women will finally be disposable. i wonder if that will happen in my lifetime.

this is grim.

delorean