This was written while sitting in a blue car, in a parking lot outside the Temple of Castor and Pollux in Louisville, waiting for dawn to arrive, and my brain to return to a state functional enough to drive all the way back to Westminster. As I recall, the sweet smoke of [yummy plant] was still somewhat fresh in my windpipe...
Rise Up, the "drinking party" during which hundreds of revolutionary minds congregated, sang, danced, shared ideas, and tried to learn one another's names, is now concluded, at least for me. Equal parts misery and joy, it reminds us both of where our roots lie, and how far we have strayed from them.
None of it happened as planned, if ever there was a plan.
My deepest regret: entering with the shallow hope that if I "behaved" right, a few of the females might allow me to touch their skin and caress their bodies.
My deepest gratitude: A few of the females not only "allowed" me to touch their skin and caress their bodies, but welcomed it, despite my obvious attempts at manipulation.
Why regret? Because if I had only stopped trying so hard, I might have discovered their gifts to be ever more bountiful than my narrow aspirations.
The moment which symbolized the night: Not long after I arrived, I got into a wonderful conversation with a student of the Naropa Institute. She started by giving me a gift: A hat I could wear on my head. She said she had obtained it from the free store, and thought I might like to wear it. We got into talking about the Naropa Institute, differences between Naropa and Shambhala (both founded by Trumpa Rinpoche), and philosophy in general, down to this moment. This moment.
I told her that at this moment, I was feeling the overwhelming urge to touch her foot, and to kiss it. She agreed to let me do so, but I suspect she really wanted to talk more philosophy. (She continued to talk as I bent my head down before her.) But she could see I was hungry -- starving in fact, and so she generously fed me a little of herself.
There is no other love. There is no greater love than this.... --The Morrighan.
I drank of her toes, and licked them. Compassionately, she stroked my hair, and ever so gently touched my neck. In response, I released saliva onto her bare toes, and began to clean the mud off with my tongue.
The exchange, which had, moments ago, been a beautiful, acknowledgement between equals, had rapidly turned into something entirely different. I had, of my own free will, turned myself into her slave, her dog, her property. I think she wanted to love me, but did not want to claim another human being as property. Beyond that, we had turned into something of a spectacle -- sitting on the edge of the path while incoming crowds walked by; I had lost all dignity, and had become incapable of making the profound conversation she desired.
[I melted]
My cards were on the table -- I had demonstrated that all I really wanted was sex, or something closely resembling it, and was willing to do anything to get it. But we had both come to party with everybody, and to fuck one person in the typical one night stand: That always ends in heartbreak. But heartbreak was already imminent. Best to make it quick and clean. I arose from my position, thanked her, and at that moment, one of her friends came to take her back into the house.
But wait! I wanted to give her something, SOMETHING, in return. I still wore the wool hat she had bestowed upon me. She had already gone into the house where the dance party was happening. I followed, hoping I would see and recognize her in the altered lighting. I did.
She was already dancing with someone, and when I called her name, she looked at me with a twinge of... what? Fear, or sadness, perhaps? I handed her one of my little flyers, which contained a brief promo for the bitscape.org website. I think I detected a hint of disappointment in her face.
This was all. I was out. Swith games. The night was just beginning...
Saturday at 10:24 or something...
Kids, this is what happens when you smoke too much pot...
After all this time, I have decided it is time to openly declare my true loyalties. Yes, I am finally going off to join an extremist terrorist organization devoted to the downfall of animal testing and all other such forms of cruelty. In other words, I am now a member of the Coalition for the Liberation of Itenerant Tree-dwellers.
Not only am I a member, but my actions have demonstrated, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I also worship this entity known as the CLIT. How else could my actions be explained?
But don't worry, direct action is already being undertaken, as we have planted explosives in one of those evil animal testing labs in Boulder. Don't bother asking which one.
We are willing to stand down. All we demand in return is that you give us back our Diamonds. They are, after all, a girl's best friend.
I'm getting off track, so I'll just cut to the chase, spank the monkey, and throw out a url. Click here to learn more about us and our mission. Remember: We are CLIT. Do not fuck with us.
"Nights like this, I miss dating a lesbian." --An Actor Named 'Ben'
LOVE the CLIT. That, my friends, is the only true meaning in life.
[advertisement] Food Not Bombs. Around 15:30 at the Boulder Bandshell. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and SATURDAYS.