The anti-Cruise is an attempt to imprison us at every level of living that exists. [Sigh] Younger Cruisers have asked me, “Why, why is the anti-Cruise so avaricious and constant in its attempt to stop the Cruise?” And I have no answer! There is no answer. I mean, it’s gravitational. It’s a relationship that’s made up of reciprocals and of pulling gravities. It simply exists. Where there is Cruise, there is an escort of anti-Cruise. But even in a complete bastion of anti-Cruise fodder, which this entire square block is, there is Cruise. Somewhere in there is a sparkle of Cruising energy, deeply sublimated within the bellowing belly of the beast.

Survivor! He knows no prison. They are all over the prison floor, but you never saw them looking melancholy. They kept Cruising. No imprisonment for the cockroach. Life impending drastic survivor through the millenias, through the eruptions of time, past the dinosaurs, witnessing the flight of birds for the first time. Clouds dying, asteroids hitting the earth. No prison for the cockroach. I have such respect for those bastards.

But I was not so fortunate. But, you know, I was Cruising hard at that time. So when you think about it, the anti-Cruise breathing down my neck could not allow me even physical mobility. And according to them, I was running from the cops for a month before they caught up to me. I was not even aware that I was running from the cops as much as I was aware that I was running from the anti-Cruise. And I felt like a fugitive. But you know what? Every day I feel like a fugitive. It never occurred to them that I’m running from the anti-Cruise every day. And when I was up in front of the Judge for my arraignment, the judge said, “My biggest problem with this case is that this guy, this current person that we’re judging, ran from the police for a month.” And if I could have spoken, of course, I wasn’t allowed to speak, I would have said, “It’s been a lot more than a month! I’ve been running from you people all my life. All my life! And I’m going to keep running!”

And there’s so many prisoners, inmates. There’s so many people to be judged. They don’t even have time to consider you as a human being. You’re filed through as an assembly line. And in some ways it made me think of the fact that in terms of molecular biology we have the same infrastructure as plants. So this entire notion of individuality is a delusion anyway. It’s a direful delusion. There is no real individuality except for that which we project. But sitting in the cell block I realized that the pursuit of that so-called individuality is everything I believe in. The fullest pursuit of those possibilities of that quote, unquote “Individuality,” even if it is an absolute failure, is the most beautiful failure I can think of. I don’t care if it’s a delusion. I don’t care if we have the same infrastructure as plants. I want to be the plant that grows the highest. I want to be the beanstalk. I want to be the flower that smells the most profusely, that veers most drastically towards the sunlight.

After that I was determined to save my father’s life. All it took was a bunch of expensive lawyering! I took every penny away from that greedy woman. She hadn’t given his three kids hardly a dime our entire lives. She kept it all, saving it for us, she said. But she was keeping it all. Of course, she said, we did it for the money! Like a daughter doesn’t love her father!

What a drama bunny! Actually, I find it quite entertaining…thank you for all your posts! And I hope it all works out there for you OK….

To all my enemies that add flavor to my life, why don’t you come up here to the Brooklyn Bridge so we can talk about it? Why don’t you come up here and talk to me about it?

To Leslie Lindenstraus, “Look, if you want to try and choke me when I’m like prebuscent and really much smaller than you, that’s fine. I mean, I know that’s how we all really feel about each other, and I know that that’s what it’s really all about, but I’m going to find you and kick your ass ’cause I’m not seven, and I’m not prebuscent anymore. I don’t know where you are, but I remember that day.”

To Jordan, “Look, bananas may be something that you and your friend can eat without me, alright? I mean, yes, I wanted a banana, and yes, you left me out, but that’s okay, because I mean there are other bananas. I think I’ve proved that to you by now.”

To Tierta, “There was about two hours of my entire life thus far on earth when I was absolutely dependent upon you. And those were a couple of the worst hours of my life.”

To Charles Purpura, “I know you never read my screenplay.”

And to Leslie Lee, “I know you didn’t read that full-length play. I worked on it, I sweated on it, I turmoiled over it, I malaised through it, I lived above it, under it, because of it, not because of it, I hated it, I loved it, I died, and I re-lived, and I was reborn within the room as I worked on that play. And I know you did not read it.
To Swayne, who supposedly was going to read that script I gave him, “And you know what? Fuck the script. You are forever known as the tour guide who got hit by a traffic light. And I think that’s the proper epithet for you. And how dare you do a Tina Howe play in the middle of June in New York City as if I have time to sit there and listen to that trash when there’s schticking and Cruising to be done. You obviously lead an infant-testamile existence.

To Josh: “Your narcissism is mediocre. Narcissism in some ways is inevitable. I mean, since we’re all living in the same body for this mortality, it’s almost inevitable that we will be self-absorbed at some point. But why is it that so many people have a narcissism — as yourself — that leads to mediocrity and nothing else?”

To Jan and Michelle: “That was supposed to be an orgy. I don’t know how it came down to a double date with me as a fifth wheel. That sucks! I mean, I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve been so severely dissed. I mean, an orgy is when everybody participates, not four out of five in the room.”

To Real: “I am not going to go to some single Jewish party because I’m a dissheveled wreck of a schticker. To try and meet some Long Island Jewess and land on a front yard, and a house with two cars, and children who bow at my name through their own salivary glands. That may be your approximate goal, but that is not mine. I am surprised by your unoriginality. And I am tired of your silly emasculations. I would prefer to be emasculated by a woman with much more severity and with a little bit more backbone.”

To Mem Levitch, “Why don’t you leave me alone? I’m trying to lead something of a youthful existence here. I’m standing here on the Brooklyn Bridge today, talking to the Brooklyn Bridge about the miniscule moments of alienation that I remember so well for the last quarter century, and all you can do is leave messages on my machine, and lecture me about how much you need me up there in Westchester. What am I supposed to do? Check the air in your tires? You never once vaulted out of the golden chair. You never had the guts, the audacity to stand up and do something with your life! You could only utilize your own narcissism, and your own self-absorption to always, in an eternal sense, imply to me your child, that I had to save your life. And this has been a daily crusade since the first moment of my birth. And when I emanated from your bloody thighs, if I’d known all this, I’m sure I would have crawled back in. Don’t you know that all the menstruation that happened after that was parts of myself left behind that you were choking to death? THAT WAS MY BLOOD!

Who knows why anyone would ask the Dalai Lama for sex advice in the first place….

I recall reading Gyaltrul Rinpoche’s machine gun comment some time ago, I don’t recall if it was in the gay press or Tricycle or what. Pretty small blip on the seismigraph but definitely weird. What can be said? If it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck…

Somewhat close to the original topic the new curriculum programs are being unveiled at the San Francisco Shambhala center next month, “Meditation in Everyday Life”. Level II is still a three day weekend program.

And you know, speaking to the shrine changes everyone has gone thru, SF put their old shrine pictures up in the common room, quite prominently displayed, including a photo of a very dapper Regent.

AND I don’t think there’s a single direction you could face in that center, unless you were face down on the floor, where there wouldn’t be a photo of CTR in your line of sight.

By her words we are brought to our own lives, and are overwhelmed by our feelings which we had held beneath the surface for so long. And from what is dark and deep within us, we say, tyranny revolts us; we will not kiss the rod.