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From: bloobird@sirius.com (Blue) Subject: The LSD Tabloid April 98 Content-Transfer-Encoding:
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id QAA01699 Status: R The LSD Tabloid Schmoozemagazine of Love's Supreme
Desire XXX, e-mail bloobird@sirius.com April, 1998 This is the monthly and
then some newsletter of Love's Supreme Desire XXX, an evolving indeterminate
network of people who like donuts. Feel free to copy/distribute as long as
the Tabloid is reproduced in its entirety and not deliberately misrepresented.
Entire contents copyright Blue aka Bloobird unless authorship otherwise noted.
Submissions of material always welcome. Internet subscriptions are free.
To read about the experience that inspired the creation of LSDXXX, see (http://www.well.com/user/bobby/SC/bloobrd.html).
Most back issues available at(http://www.eskimo.com:80/~davidk/faeries/pubs.htm).
Don't sue my ass. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * Golden poppies everywhere. Did you see the Academy
Awards? What's with Madonna's hair?--- by Blue Hey y'all, how's it going?
Great here. Things are going really well. I've been enjoying a burst of creative
energy that is leading me into new opportunities. For instance, last week
I read some of my poetry at an open mic session at the opening of a new poetry
series at Spasso's cafe in Berkeley, and they have asked me back to read
on Thursday, May 28. This news made me incredibly happy because I had just
been praying for some sign that I was on the right track, and I sure enough
got my sign. When I was invited back to read I literally jumped up and down
with happiness, which is what I did when I found out back in 1992 that I
got a stage management internship at the American Conservatory Theater in
San Francisco. I also just found out that I will have a cartoon printed in
the 25th issue of Gay Comics, coming out April 22nd. The wheel is turning...
I read four poems, talking about some of the stuff you all have read here
once, twice or maybe even three times :), my HIV seroconversion and my multifaceted
ennui, blah blah blah. I will include the second of the four consecutive
poems below. It's about my seroconversion and my old friend XXX (I don't
feel right giving his name since this is personal stuff and we have been
out of touch). He is an artist freak who opened a lot of creative doors for
me when I was living in suburban teenage hormone hell. Of course I fell in
love with him, which was a mistake because he is basically straight (a pattern
I repeated later in life, but then there are so many straight guys who are
charming, sexy and wonderful, who can blame me?). I don't regret it, because
why regret falling in love? I tried to call XXX last weekend but unfortunately
we have drifted very much apart... Last time XXX came to visit in San Francisco
we had a major falling out because he was heavily into booze and drugs (not
that I'm pure as the driven snow; I just didn't want him killing himself).
After he suddenly left me alone in a bar so that he could go score something,
I fell into a depressed drunken feeding frenzy which led me into the situation
where I'm pretty sure I came into contact with HIV. Not that I'm bitching
or complaining. I want to emphasize that I don't want to bitch about stuff
anymore, if I can help it. I'm just making conversation, as it were. When
I talk about these things it's only because I feel that there may be lessons
here that someone else can glean without having to experience them firsthand
(but then do we ever really learn anything without experiencing it firsthand?).
The poem also talks about the details of my seroconversion, which manifested
itself during a strained family reunion with me lying on the couch with a
"flu," feeling strangely different and unable to relate and not exactly sure
why, I told my sister when she asked me what was the matter, that I was "between
things," which sure as hell turned out to be the truth... Then I talk about
going to work after I got the news, and about how my sweet partner Dan broke
down into tears that night, nearly crumbling into fetal position, his eyes
shaking, a soft whimper coming from his lips, which unleashed a torrent of
emotion from me that I had been previously unable to access because it had
all seemed like a bad dream. Then I talk about the time I was at Haight-Ashbury
free medical clinic (they were very nice there), very early on in this HIV
adventure, when my veins clammed up and inexplicably would not release blood.
I think I was either dehydrated or terribly nervous or both. In the poem
I sort-of combine that incident with the time later I sat in Saint Mary's
Hospital, which people have told me is a good place to go (though I found
it to be cold and intimidating). I was getting a chest X-ray and my first
set of blood tests, which is something enchanting and fun that we HIV+ types
get to do about every three months (oh, how I hate getting blood taken. I'm
sorry, but it's true. I swear I wish I didn't have to go to doctors or hospitals
at all, I'd rather live a shorter life than one filled with needles, insurance,
pills and tired magazines in waiting rooms, but c'est la vie). The chest
X-ray person was as cold as hell. I sat out in a big waiting room with one
other dejected person in much more dire straits than I, and a bunch of tired
magazines by a big window on a beautifully sunny day. The sun poured in through
the window while I sat there small and scared, confused. I remember telling
myself that the bright sunlight was a message that things would be OK, whatever
happened. I still believe that. To those new subscribers, some of whom are
friends (Hi Jan U-L!) that I have yet to personally give the explicit phrase
"I am HIV+," please don't freak out by this revelation or be hurt that I'm
telling you this way. It's just easier for me (and perhaps both of us), and
we can talk about this more when we next see each other. I don't want to
make a huge deal out of it; at first I felt like I had to tell everybody
but now I'm feeling less compelled to do so. We all have medical conditions
or will someday. But I do have to write about it since I am a writer and
physical challenges are universal issues which writers are obliged to discuss
(otherwise why be a writer?). If I haven't told you personally, those are
the reasons. I don't want to make a huge deal out of it, and I certainly
don't want to bitch about it, though I do feel compelled to share my feelings
in writing. It makes me feel uncomfortable now to talk about it too much
personally, face-to-face that is, because I simply don't want to dwell on
it, and I don't want to feel like I AM a disease, know what I mean? I've
also discovered that some people withdraw when they find out this information
about me, or they have some political axe to grind about HIV ("it's a government
plot to kill gay people! It doesn't really exist!" and other such annoying
bullshit. I say annoying because to me it doesn't really matter where HIV
came from, I know it exists because I can feel it. And we all die someday,
so why get anal about how and why? It just happens, and it's part of life).
I don't like getting lectured about my medical treatment and so on so I simply
keep it more private, though writing about it and so on in a public way,
ironically, feels necessary and healing to me. Go figure. * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "It's a gift,
you'll see" ---© 1998 Blue I meet with my best friend from way back
the one I loved, the one who moved me is now an alcoholic and smokes crack
leaves me alone in a bar after drinking my money I fly off somewhere in the
dark lights pass above my swirling head I fall into a pool of strangers on
a fateful lark in a place of hungry love misled take my fill of nothing much
for greedy hours 'til the spell is broken walk shivering miles home, past
a darkened church temple whore spirit ripped open I look into my ragged face
in the mirror of our bathroom see the red blood above my teeth fall into
fitful sleep with dreams of nothing weeks later I take a chill while meeting
with my distant family I cannot speak though I try. I am different somehow
I tell my sister "I am between things" though I know not what this means
My blood tests positive I must go to work in silent shock That night my strong
steady beloved weeps His brown eyes rattle, his body collapses soft and weak
I didn't believe in love but now I see it's true walked once down the gray
street and prayed, "I want to die." I made this happen because I was afraid
of you "What have I done?" my spirit cries They can't get any blood from
my veins They stab my pale arm three times trying to steal it I sit chastised
alone in the big bright cold hospital staring into space Trying to make sense
of what may be. The voice in my head said, "It's a gift, you'll see." * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* Spring---by Blue (originally intended for the second issue of the Love's
Supreme Desire 'zine, LSDXXX) How does one mourn the loss of Spirit? Can
one cry out loud enough? Where does one stand when the earth is gone? Will
only the strong survive? How can the strong be so weak? Will the meek inherit
the earth? Hate and fear are the captains of industry. I weep in the streets
(I run in the fields). Can we live in peace? You sell my future and my past
and keep my present in a box. I cannot resist (I try to RISE). You punish
me with the rage of the righteous wrong. I can resist (I start to RISE).
You put me down in the dust and beat me there. I RISE. Spring is here Flowers
choke the street Love floods the earth * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Love poem to a Weed (Cannabis
Sativa: New York City) ---by Haia Ted Berk the Venusian, December, 1962 Within
the black liquid resin In the earth center Hot bowl of the pipe Of the viper
Undulates an ecstacy More white and more sinless Than the cream of the tusk
Of the Brahma elephant. Smoke rising in waves Which are the life force Pulled
upward by The osmosis and the command Of the Living God They permeate the
very core Of the million worlds And they melt the egos Of the strongest demons
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * Thought-pictures of a walking messenger ---by Haia Ted Berk the Venusian,
San Francisco 1983 This rainbow of light upon the sidewalk... A ray of hope!
End hunger today! Blue water cascades, and the orange horse, a moment of
refuge in a quiet alleyway... ---(c) Haia Ted Berk. Born in Nebraska 1935,
Haia, of eastern European Jewish ancestry also acknowledge partial Venusian
origins as revealed by magick mushrooms in Mexico and I praise my queer heroes
Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs and the goat-footed
Pan! Faerie magick infuses all! Mishka the white Tabby who blesses my elf
house is also avatar of the universe. Watch the skies and go with the green
ray of nature. For more about Haia see http://www.links.net/vita/sf/haia/
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * Teeny Tiny (actually, pretty damn long) Music Review---by Blue "Ray
of Light," Maverick Recording Company--- Madonna's new album marks a continuing
trend of the deepening of the artist and as revealing as it is, marks a significant,
gutsy risk to her career and public perception. A lot of people resent or
dismiss Madonna because she's such a huge mainstream success but I have always
liked her. She has consistently made risky career decisions and taken sincere
efforts to expand her artistic range as a singer, dancer and actress. Sure,
she's done a lot of vacuous pop, but she's also taken strong stands and has
had a huge liberating impact on our society during years that until recently
were marked by increasing conservatism. Many of her numbers have strong messages
and the social commentary of a serious artist. I won't lie, I'm a big Madonna
queen from way back. I think she's a fascinating, complex, inspiring individual,
as flawed as any of us. The new album "Ray of Light," in addition to experimenting
with new techno forms in a very satisfying way that will make you want to
shake your butt, reveals a vulnerable side that she has largely kept hidden
from us during her incredibly focused, successful race to mega-ultra-superstardom.
I've read reviews where people roll their eyes and say, "Oh, that Madonna
with her new 'softness' and a baby daughter at her side is just making cynical
career moves. Now that the zeitgeist is to be more 'spiritual,' she jumps
on the bandwagon and pretends to be at the head of the pack." Though it can
be said she has co-opted new musical styles to extend her career, I disagree
with this jaded assumption. Madonna, though a superstar celebrity, is no
different, no more impervious to pain, disappointment, or disillusionment
than you or I. One of the worst things about being a celebrity must be that
it seems to remove your essential humanity from the perception of the teeming
audiences. The celebrity is put on a pedestal, celebrated as a modern god
or goddess, yet simultaneously scrutinized, attacked and tormented by those
who profit by both success and failure. To the media, it makes no difference,
really. Either way, the media will package the celebrity, flatten and sell
the human being to consumers for a profit, for as long as the public has
an interest in vicariously consuming the packaged life of the expendable
celebrity. Does this mean that the celebrity is no longer human? Of course
not. Madonna has slowed down and taken a deeper look at the limits of celebrity
and the workaholic yet hedonistic lifestyle which has been her life for many
years now. It's the oldest story in the book, a cliche even, but it makes
perfect sense and rings true to me. Madonna, having reached the absolute
pinnacle of pop star success several times over since she first came on the
scene in the 1980's, has "Traded fame for love/without a second thought/It
all became a silly game/Some things cannot be bought/Got exactly what I asked
for/Wanted it so badly/Running, rushing back for more/I suffered fools so
gladly/And now I find/I've changed my mind (from the new song "Drowned world/substitute
for love"). Viewers of Madonna's cinema-verite expose "Truth or Dare" (1991,
Miramax Films, directed by Alek Keshishian) can plainly see the terrible
toll such a lifestyle would leave on anyone in Madonna's position. She has
a simultaneously shallow yet consuming temporary intimacy with her dancers
and employees, a strained family relationship with her uptight father and
stepmother, a bumbling and resentful alcoholic brother, tremendous pressures
on the road to be constantly fabulous and together, a failing relationship
with Warren Beatty; she is seen in the movie as someone who is constantly
running from pleasure to pleasure, finding little happiness anywhere. It's
sad and exhausting. The viewer is left wondering, "How long can she keep
this up? When is she going to lose it?" Reviewers act as if Madonna has never
before dropped hints about her hurt and loneliness, but a cursory scan through
her lyrics reveals such painful feelings several albums back. We have a collection
of Madonna's videos from the "Immaculate Collection" album and there is one
video that always makes me cry. Yes, it makes me cry nearly every time I
watch it because the video, directed by David Fincher, is so beautifully
made and the lyrics are so heartfelt. The song is "Oh, Father" and it deals
with a woman whose mother died when she was a child (like Madonna), whose
father emotionally and perhaps physically abused the young girl. The girl
grows up, finds herself in an abusive relationship (another of Madonna's
themes) and then leaves the abuser. The lyrics are quite strong and passionate,
and have a special resonance with me because of my family challenges well
known by long-time readers of The LSD Tabloid. The song starts out: "It's
funny that way/You can get used to the tears and the pain/What a child will
believe/You never loved me," as the black and-white visual shows the little
girl playing in the snow while the father and a priest stand at the mother's
deathbed. The next visual is the little girl innocently playing in a closet
with her mother's clothing and jewelry, laughing, dreaming about growing
up. The father storms into the room and demoralizes the girl, yanking a string
of pearls from her neck as the lyrics continue: "You can't hurt me now/I
got away from you/I never thought I would/You can't make me cry/You once
had the power/I never felt so good about myself." A chorus of the song is:
"Oh father, you never wanted to live that way/You never wanted to hurt me/Why
am I running away?" Later in the song, as the adult little girl is shown
leaving her abusive partner, Madonna sings: "Maybe some day/I will be able
to look back and say/You never meant to be cruel/Somebody hurt you, too."
The visual shows the shadow of her abuser screaming at Madonna as she enters
the room. She takes a look at him, then turns and leaves the room. Her shadow
on the wall is the shadow of the little girl. The final scene shows Madonna
joining her father at the mother's gravesite. The little girl dances and
spins happily off to the side. The song and the video are both very powerful
statements about how hard it is trying to run away from pain, to find some
happiness, to make peace with the past and move on. For some reason this
song was not included on the CD version of "Immaculate Collection." Maybe
Warner Brothers wanted to stick to the upbeat, but then other songs from
the collection would suggest otherwise, and also show a deeper, self-critical,
yearning side of Madonna. Even the wildly popular dance number "Vogue" has
lyrics that suggest escape from pain and limitation into a world of (temporary)
fulfillment through fantasy, which seems to have been the motivation for
Madonna's singular focus on success up to this point: "...You can try everything
you can to escape/The pain of life that you know/If all else fails and you
long to be/Something better than you are today/I know a place where you can
get away/It's called the dance floor/And here's what it's for, so VOGUE."
The song "Rescue Me," from 1990, is particularly revealing, with lyrics by
Madonna and Shep Pettibone that start out: "I'm talking/I'm talking/I believe
in the power of love/I'm singing/I'm singing/I believe that you can rescue
me." They continue: "With you I'm not a little girl/With you I'm not a man/When
all the hurt inside of me/Comes out, you understand/You see that I'm ferocious/You
see that I am weak/You see that I am silly/And pretentious and a freak/But
I don't feel too strange for you/Don't know exactly what you do/I think when
love is pure you try/to understand the reasons why/And I prefer this mystery/It
cancels out my misery/And gives me hope that there could be/A person that
loves me." The chorus is: "Rescue me/Your love has given me hope/Rescue me/I'm
drowning/Baby throw out your rope." The lyrics continue: "With you I'm not
a fascist/I can't play you like a toy/And when I need to dominate your not
my little boy/You see that I am hungry/For a life of understanding/And you
forgive my angry little heart/When she's demanding/You bring me to my knees/When
I'm scratching at the eyes/Of a world I want to conquer/And deliver and despise/And
right when I am standing there/I suddenly begin to care/And understand that
there could be/A person that loves me." A chorus continues: "Love is understanding
it's hard to believe/Life can be so demanding/I'm sending out an SOS/Stop
me from drowning/Baby I'll do the rest." The lyrics in this bouncy, danceable
pop song reveal dark loneliness and intense soul-searching. This newly-revealed
spiritual search is not new for Madonna, and I don't think it's hype. She
came from conservative suburban Detroit with a sad family history, ran penniless
with an impossible dream to New York City, clawed her way into a unique reality,
achieving her most wild dreams of success. She's just given birth, which
is surely an intense spiritual growth experience in itself. She's nearly
forty years old, has been running a long time, and is looking for some peace.
"Ray of Light" reveals Madonna's spiritual side and the album makes sense
in her evolution as an artist and human being. I wish her well in her continuing
search. Why have I spent so much time reviewing this album by Madonna, who
certainly does not need more media exposure? I don't know, really. It just
seems like in this album she is trying to dig deeper and sincerely look at
her life and I like to encourage that sort of thing whenever possible. If
Madonna's next album reverts to the lyrical vacuity of her very earliest
albums, then I'll eat my hat and a pair of extra large boxer shorts. ---All
lyrics above copyright Warner Brothers/Maverick Recording Company (please
don't sue my ass) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * Hotlines, URLS, Calls for entry, upcoming gigs, you
know, stuff like that GENERAL CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS, upcoming issues of The
LSD Tabloid. Looking for writings of any kind under 1000 words on (but not
limited to): 1) the intersection and/or conflicts between art and spirituality,
spirituality and sexuality, art and sexuality 2) passion and chaos in a rational
world (or rationalism in a passionately chaotic world, for that matter) 3)
the millennium: media hype, biblical hooey, cosmic opportunity or what? 4)
personal spiritual experiences/revelations, trials and lessons 5) art and
sacrifice, spirituality and sacrifice, art and transcendence, spirituality
and transcendence 6) travel journals (especially road trips and vision quests)
7) what is living? What is dying? What is holding on to life, what is letting
go? What is the gray area between the two? 8) what do you think about the
way things are run? About the way they should be run? How would you do it
differently? 9) have any personal paranormal experiences to relate? 10) reviews
of unique performances, movies, books, music, web pages, etc. These are some
suggested topics, but others are welcome. Please email to Blue at bloobird@sirius.com
for inclusion in an upcoming issue of The LSD Tabloid, including biographical
statement. I am unable to pay contributors at this point. All rights remain
in the possession of contributors. Congratulations to Garrin Benfield of
the Benfield Trio and Peter Horton, who will be on European tour with the
pop singer Ké through July. They are now rehearsing in New York City
and we wish them the very best! Tree is pleased to announce the display of
his current paintings in a show entitled "What color is the dark side?" April
16-May 12, 1998 at 848 Community Space, 848 Divisadero at McAllister, San
Francisco. Opening reception/party/ritual Thursday April 16, 7:30 PM. Please
bring things to make noise, invite friends, and wear something "special!"
Gallery hours: Sundays April 19, 26, May 3, 10, from 1-5 PM. Congratulations
to Leny Mostaghia, who will be performing a scene by Nobel Prize winning
playwright Dario Fo in the upcoming FoFest, a celebration of the art and
work of Dario Fo and Franca Rame, April and May. For a complete schedule
call (415) 788-7142, ext. 16 or see www.infinex.com/~berny/fofest.html. Rock
Candy open house. On Sunday, May 3, from 1-5 pm, DO NOT visit the home of
Blue and Dan as I suggested last issue. Our house was attacked by Gamera
and now we must have the next Rock Candy open house at the home of Jim and
Lars. Check out all the lovely beaded bits of jewelry created by Rock Candy
designers Blue (that's me) and DJ/musician Lars. 20 Ridgewood (off Monterey),
SF CA 94127, accessible by BART (Glen Park Station) and MUNI lines 43, 23,
and 36. Please RSVP to bloobird@sirius.com or call 415-585-8273. 4/98: WE
Fest: (http://www.smellygig.com/wefest/index.html). The Wilmington Exchange
is a cooperative organization that encourages independent thought, striving
for an environment where people can come together and be inspired. Searching
for a new sense of cross-cultural community; interested in nurturing artists'
careers, rather than exploiting them and helping individuals find the tools
they need to do the work they love, uncompromisingly. How??? By bringing
them in contact with EACH OTHER @ the W.E. Festival! Join us this year, May
21-27, in Wilmington, North Carolina. We're gonna be having another seven
day smorgasbord, over 40 bands from around the world, a plethora of Independent
/ Underground Films, tons of Zines , and an unhealthy dose of Microbrewed/Homebrewed
Beer, all featured during this weeklong romp through our (your own) private
wonderland. Blue will be reading a selection of his poetry at Spasso's cafe
on Thursday, May 28 around 7 PM. Spasso's is at the corner of College and
Claremont, about five blocks north of the Rockridge BART station. The other
featured reader will be Dancing Bear, and an open mic will follow. 4/98:
Moondance, an e-zine celebrating creative women (http://www.moondance.org/index.htm).
Blue submitted an opinion piece about his creative process to Moondance entitled
"Creativity follows commitment." The article was accepted for the next issue,
which is scheduled to hit the internet on June 1. The Number: 415-289-6666.
Some of what's going down in the world of art and kookiness in San Francisco.
4/98: Peace Pilgrim was a small fearless woman who walked across America
time and time again with almost no material possessions, carrying the message
of global peace. She is gone, but her timely message continues on in the
work of Peace Pilgrim 2. See his inspiring web page at (http://www.pilgrim2.com/index.html).
4/98: Check out Story Waters' (is that a real name?) site at (http://www.alienation.com/alienation.html).
Story is a physically and spiritually beautiful man, judging from his revealing
poetry and photographs. This site has photographs which are not terribly
racy, but if you are uncomfortable with nudity, be forewarned. 4/98: Charlie
lives in Philadelphia. He's been taking some cool photos of himself and writing
essays about the nature of exposure. He's got a gallery opening coming up
soon. You could check out his racy self-photos, but you need an adult clearance,
which seems reasonable. (http://WWW.ActWin.Com/changing/index.html) 4/98:
A guy whose name is Toaph, pronounced Loaf, has a home page featuring nude
male self-photography along with essays (http://www.actwin.com/toaph/). Nothing
too racy here; nice black and white photos. 4/98: Anonymously annoy famous
gas bags from the privacy of your home. Thank you Timm Lyons for sending
me this URL (http://www.fractalcow.com/hall.htm) at a time when my internet
service provider was fucking up and I had had two good strong cups of coffee.
Feeling thus, my only recourse was to annoy somebody famous. Time is not
money. Time is art. ******************************************************************************
"Oh, lighten up, willya?" ---Bozo the Clown to Franz Kafka over chocolate
sprinkle clumps at the Donut & Bedpan World on Route 66 ten miles west
of Spooge, Arizona Read The LSD (Love's Supreme Desire) Tabloid at http://www.eskimo.com:80/~davidk/faeries/pubs.htm
Submissions welcome. For free internet subscription contact Blue, bloobird@sirius.com