LHFox

What Do You Have To Say? - Photography: The Best Advice

2007-09-01T23:55:39Z

There were 10 cameras on our rafting trip. After reviewing the photos, our group came to realize the most natural and accurately framed candid shots were taken by the only participant with no eyesight. Like all our physically tangible assets, don't let the sense of sight combined with an overwhelming desire for all photos to be "great shots" overpower the essence-capturing intuition that comes natural to the "good" photographers.

Yes, LHFox LIVES!

2006-06-27T05:24:04Z

Sorry for the LONG gap between postings, but in a nutshell, the last 3+ years have been a HELL of a ride! I am happy to announce that the premature reports of my death are just that. I am living (and quite satisfactoraly) here in the Tenderloin section of San Francisco. For those of you who wish to contact me directly, my phone number hasn't changed in almost 5 years (someone you know out there has it). My current email is toddrego@gmail.com, and you can text msg me at frisky@tmomail.com.

The postings should become longer and more detailed in the weeks and months to come. For now, I just want to send out warm vibes and bright blessings to all those who kept me in your thoughts.

Namasté

Todd-

From Michael - THANK YOU!

2000-08-23T17:31:07Z

Infatuation is instant desire
Love is friendship that has caught on fire
Infatuation is marked by a feeling of insecurity, unanswered questions, nagging doubts
Love is quiet understanding and acceptance of imperfection

Infatuation says, "We must get married right away, I can't risk losing him"
Love says, "Be patient, don't panic, He is yours, Plan your future with confidence"
Infatuation has an element of sexual excitement, being together has to end in sex
Love is a natural progression of friendship, one that grows into being lovers

Unknown

Intoxicated Blindness

2000-08-23T02:55:47Z

I fell in love, and hard. As a matter of fact, I still love him. But I am fully aware now that we cannot be what he told me he wanted us to be.
After we met and during the first full weekend we spent together, Cassady and I talked about what direction we wanted our relationship to go in. In what I thought was an honest and thought-out statement, Cass said he wanted a long-term monogamous relationship. I almost swallowed my tongue. I haven't been monogamous in almost ten years, and I really had no desire to be. But my profound feelings for this very special man overrode my polyamorous beliefs and desires. From that point, Cassady was the only man for me. But at the time, (what I thought was only) one obstacle stood in the way: GREG.

It seems that Greg and Cassady had something together before Cass and I met. Cass even slept over Greg's house one night during what was supposed to be our introductory weekend together. I trusted Cassady to be honest with me and tell me everything that went on. I didn't find out that they had slept together that night until just this weekend. Let me tell you how that went down...

I drove to San Francisco Thursday afternoon with Greg and a friend of his. The three of us were meeting up with Cass and his really old friend Jeremy (from Oregon and already at Cass' place in Oakland) that night, then picking up seven more people in San Francisco on Friday to head out to a weekend rave. Greg, Cass and myself all slept in Cass' bed. The attention Cass was paying to us was divided all night and into the morning. Friday morning, Cass lead me out to the garden at the crack of dawn. We kissed, then I allowed him to fuck me. Once he was done, I finished myself off by hand. We then cuddled for a while, and I asked him about Greg. He had not yet told Greg that he and I were embarking on a monogamous relationship together. I then asked him if they had "consummated" their relationship yet, something Cass told me they had not done the last time I asked. When he told me yes, that they had fooled around, I immediately deduced that it happened the morning following the very day he told me he wanted a monogamous relationship, the morning after his 33rd birthday. This was the beginning of my doubts.

As the weekend wore on at the rave, I sat back and watched Cassady pour his affections all over Greg and a number of other people who he described as "special connections." At one point, I told someone who knows Cass (someone that I had just met) that Cass was my boyfriend. He replied with a chuckle "Boyfriend? It looks like Cassady has five boyfriends this weekend."

Cassady has been using psychedelics for many, many years. The laundry list of drugs that he tells me that he has consumed in his lifetime would have certainly brought the average person to their early grave. For some reason though, Cassady has survived, and he tells many stories of "High Magic", colorful psychedelic visions and unbelievable mystical experiences.

My deepest scar from this entire ordeal is my loss of trust in him. I fell in love with Cassady so hard that I trusted him in every way without question. I recently gave him my bank account number, was ready to share a house with him, and was just about to sign him up for a cell phone on my account. Apparently I was completely blind with the intoxication of my devotion.

Saturday night I wanted so much to be in Cassady's space that I consumed one of the almost forty tabs of acid Cass had with him this weekend. I have never done anything but smoke pot on occasion, and use ecstasy from time to time (my first e-trip was in November of last year). This was a major step for me, and I only took it to be with the man I loved so deeply. Not only did Cass exceed the amount of chemical I consumed by at least 400%, he was really nowhere to be found all night. Apparently, Greg has been dropping acid for quite some time. This is yet one more "connection" Cass and Greg share that I do not. Everywhere Cass was, there was Greg. I felt as if I was watching a boy and his puppy all weekend. Greg actually snapped at me, calling me "pissy" and "difficult" during what I thought was a polite, friendly conversation about "natural vs. electric light" at these raves.

I found out Sunday morning that Cassady had gotten sick and threw up. I would expect that when one gets sick, they would seek comfort from the one that loves them and will care for them. Cass stayed with Greg during that ordeal rather than returning to camp or seeking the comfort of my arms. My jealousy of Greg combined with the dark effect of the LSD made me deeply evaluate where our relationship was. Even as we were leaving the event, while bathing in the river just off the road to the campground, there was Greg, once again in Cass' arms, being cuddled, coddled, massaged and loved, a place I was absent from almost the entire weekend (except for the fuck in the garden Friday morning).

The final straw was Monday morning. Already filled with resentment from the lack of attention I was afforded all weekend by the person who was supposedly my "boyfriend", I was furious to find Cassady's arm wrapped tightly around Greg's waist as I laid there in the same bed. I immediately removed the necklace Cass gave me, placed it under the pillow and went to finish my slumbers in my van.

I thought by writing all this down I would feel relief. Instead, I feel even more angry now. Cass came out to the van to find out why I took the necklace off. I told him how I felt. He said nothing in his defense. All he did say was "I have to pee" and left. I let almost 2 hours pass before I went into the house. There was Cass, in the kitchen, boiling water for coffee. "Boy, that was a long pee" I said. No response.

I held up my end of a promise I made to him earlier on. We spent the next four hours packing all his belongings into my van so I can store them for him until he moves to LA in October. He will not get that cell phone from my account, nor will we be living together. I no longer trust that Cass has the ability to really follow through with his plans, or to commit to just one thing in his life. I love him, but I cannot allow myself to exist blind in that love.

Small circles...

2000-08-11T06:59:32Z

My roommate Steve is making his final preparations to move to San Francisco now. Becasue the storage company is moving his pods tonight, I helped him with some of his belongings this morning. When we got back home, I let him take a shower first (he has no hair and I have lots). I hopped onto IRC's EfNET servers, something I rarely do, and joined the #GayRaver channel. There I met RaverKid, a/k/a Andrew. Apparently, Andrew and his husband Boo (a/k/a Michael) had started a mission to find Mary around midnight, and by 10:00 AM had still not located her. He put out a public message in the channel, asking if anyone was in LA. When I replied that I was, he asked if I know where he could find Mary. I haven't spent money to see Mary since 1982. I think what was called a quarter back then actually cost $25. I mentioned that I too had been looking for Mary (in preparation for FUSION), and that if he found her, to let me know. To shorten this up a bit, we agreed to go 75-25 split on $40. When I told Caeriel about this guy just before I left for work, he mentioned that he too had the same conversation with Andrew 8 hours ago in the chat area of GAY.com. Small, small circles...

I met Andrew and his husband Michael just before going to work. I invited them to join me on my trip to the FUSION festival next weekend. They both seem like really nice people, and I hope to extend our new found friendship in the months ahead.

After work I drove straight to the Lake Shrine SRF temple in Pacific Palisades. I attended 8:00 healing service as I normally do, deep in meditation (as deep as I can get right now) throughout most of the service. I didn't notice that right behind me sat Greg, Cassady's good friend from Santa Monica. I first saw him tonight on my way out of the temple space in the foyer area. We chatted a bit in the bookstore, then went on a little adventure ride to Van Nuys in search of Daddy's Pipes on Ventura Blvd. On the way there we discussed, for the first time, my idea of making a trance remix of the Beatles' All You Need Is Love; he wasn't particularly interested in the project himself due to lack of equipment at his disposal. On the way back, I made sure that he knew that he was welcome in my (and soon to be Caeriel and Cassady's) home any time. Although we didn't get off on the right foot together when we first met, I really like him, and I hope we can become good friends in the future.

lhfox @ 2000-08-09T22:55:00

2000-08-10T05:54:28Z

Good night Cassady. I love you.

How small our circles be...

2000-08-09T16:38:37Z

I save all my email correspondence. Yes, all of them. Thousands upon thousands of messages from everywhere in the world dating as far back as 1997. While I was doing a bit of filing this morning, attempting to clean out the 170 messages in my inbox, I had the need to drop something in the "Longhair Net Strangers" folder. Just above the folder I dropped this one message into, I noticed a folder named Caereiel (Ocean). I'll stop here for a second and change gears...

I am now involved with Cassaday in what I hope will become a long term relationship. Cass (a/k/a Merlen) and I met at the end of June during SF Pride by pure chance. He caught my eye, I took a picture, gave him my email address, and the rest just happened from there. Cassady will be moving down to Los Angeles in October. The plan is that one of his closest friends and I will rent a 3 bedroom house ASAP, and that he will take the 3rd room when he gets here. Who is that close friend of his?

Dognut is this longhair hippie Canadian who started, many years ago, a web page for Gay and Bi longhair men's pictures and profiles. There have, for as long as I've been posted there, anywhere from 80 to 400 men listed there, all showing off their beautiful flowing locks. I have, on occasion, sent messages to about a dozen of those men over time that for some reason either caught my eye or had something in their profile that made me interested in maintaining correspondence. One such person lived in North Carolina and went by the name Ocean. He and I traded a few very pleasant emails back in January 1999, and like most internet introductions, eventually stopped (due to my inability to keep track most likely).

Now, back to the new house... It turns out that Cassady's best friend, who is currently sleeping on my couch in my present apartment (until we get this house), is the very same Ocean I met online almost two years ago. I was so excited that I woke him from his slumbers in excitement before 9:00 AM. (I promise I won't do that again... I was just a little over excited. Sorry Caeriel).

And the circles get smaller and smaller.........

The house.. revisited.

2000-08-08T16:13:55Z

As an update, I guess I should mention that the house is once again a go. Yes, my faith in Merlen's ability to carry through and actually be here in October had been shaken over the whole Greg thing. Something just wasn't right. But, after reading an email from Caeriel urging me to take the house (pointing out all the good features of the family we could build there), and talking with Merlen about our MONOGAMOUS future together, we decided to meet the landlord after all and follow through with it. Our contingency plan is to take a fourth roommate in the beginning while Merlen is still in Oakland, and either make the transition when he gets here, or actually live four in the house, reducing our share of the rent dramatically.

I have not heard back from the owner yet as to whether or not we've been approved (credit wise), so if you read this, say a prayer for us.

Divine Visions

2000-08-08T16:05:31Z

I just had the most incredible dream. Have you ever seen the film Beetlejuice? Bring yourself to the scene where the dead couple are brought to the administrative offices of the afterlife. Now, remove the camp, the twisted Tim Burton like scenery and the silliness... that's where I was, in a sense. The following are probably not in order, and there were more details, but I will highlight what I remember.

First was mom. She left this earth over 2 years ago. Today is one day before what would have been her 75th birthday. From the day she died, I have had dreams that have included her image, but never did we speak, nor ever did hear her say anything at all. Today was different. We strolled briefly outside the apartment building she had occupied in Fall River from 1953 to 1998. I asked her "why here", and she replied, not in the voice I knew here on earth, but in a much smoother, more learned manner, "I had to be here to make sure certain events happened." Knowing that we were in the "in-between" place, I asked what her last incarnation was. When she replied, she told me that that incarnation's birth year was 2015. I was initially puzzled to hear that her previous incarnation happened 90 years AFTER the one I knew, but as dreams go, I quickly understood that time is not linear outside our physical reality. I felt nothing but love and peace in her presence.

I was then guided by someone else to an open area where many people gathered. I was advised not to pay attention to the children begging for my attention (strange thing), and that I should be concentrating on the demonstration I was about to witness. We approached a band of fyre dancers that were in the process of cavorting, laughing and practicing their craft. They then gathered in a tight cluster and laid themselves on a railroad track. Their bodies were so tightly packed in that they no longer resembled individuals. The train came speeding around a bend and completely obliterated the pile of bodies leaving no trace. Suddenly, the world stopped and immediately the train reversed direction, along with everything else in this space. Suddenly, I was once again looking at the pile of unscathed bodies all tightly joined on the track. The second time the train came and did the same thing, and once again everything reversed and started for a third time. This time though, I realized that the first two runs were simply practice. As the train approached the mass, they used their collective meditative powers to not only stop the train, but to push it off the track just inches from their location. The train crumbled into a useless pile of scrap right before my and everyone else's eyes.

Somewhere in the dream I was in a hotel in a somewhat urban area. Not unclean or noisy, I just knew I was in a city of some sort. In the lobby of this hotel I ran into what seemed like an elderly woman. She gave me some advice that I took very seriously in the dream, but right now I do not recall what exactly it was that she had to say to me.

I had been given few instructions about what to do while I was at the hotel. The one thing I recall was the telephone. I was given a four digit number to call should I need assistance with ANYTHING, not just towels or room service. The person I was with, who appeared in the form of my current roommate, was given a shorter number to dial. It seems that he was a bit more "elevated" in the ranks where we were, and the smaller number was some indication that the person he would call when in need was a bit more experienced and evolved themselves. At the end of the dream, just before Caeriel woke me up, this "companion" person was given instructions to simply call out a name (no phone needed), and within seconds, that person appeared, at his service.

When relaying this information to Caeriel, I began to shake a little. While guiding him to the hotel where he needed to drop of his rental car, tears formed in my eyes. For some reason, I feel as if I've been given a rare opportunity and privilege to glimpse at something that few get to see until they actually get there. The experience has had a very humbling effect on me. I give thanks to the Divine Mother for bringing me these visions last night.

Om.

The house

2000-08-07T21:05:03Z

My angels are wonderful!!! My head finally cleared about 30 minutes before I went to pick Merlen up at Greg's. It's not our relationship that's not going to work, but rather the house! Even though the house itself is PERFECT in many ways, it is simply not the right time to make this comittment. Merlen and I will work on our relationship slowly and steadily from here, from the 400 mile distance that lie between us. When the time is right, our spaces will join and become one, but just not right now.

Om.

Not so magik after all...

2000-08-07T19:36:51Z

The dessert gathering never happened. Perfect!! What a great opportunity to wake up in my new man's arms at the minute his body turns 33 years old. That didn't happen either.

Friday night I met one of Merlen's circle of friends. Everyone seemed very nice, but it felt as if each new contact I made was made through an invisible brick wall. I have always perceived myself as very approachable and friendly, open to making friends with any willing person. Friday was weird, as if there was a sign on me that read "DANGER: Keep your distance." Merlen was of course soaking in the attention... he has been photographed many times (justifiably so), and the host of the party had a couple of his images on display in his artist loft across the street. I went to look, but Merlen was also with his other "boyfriend" Greg, so his attention was very divided. I felt very lonely that night.

Saturday we attempted to attend the longhair brunch in Hollywood. Because the food was not breakfast quality, Merlen, myself and Merlen's friend Caeriel (the 3rd member of the house sharing that will take place very soon) all went for a bite in Venice. We later stopped by the house in "Beverly Hills Adjacent" so I could introduce them to their new home. We are giving the landlord copies of our IDs today.

Saturday night was a "night in"... well I thought so in the beginning. Merlen is studying shiatsu and needs test subjects. He also expressed an interest in watching Yellow Submarine with me. The three of us sat through Witches of Eastwick, then a couple of WB cartoons on laser disc. The natives then got restless and headed to an art show around 9:00 and didn't return until after 2. Again feeling lonely, I decided trancing and meditation would fill my void. I ended up calling out to Merlen who, with Caeriel, appeared in the middle of my meditations. Merlen was tired and had no intention of watching Yellow Submarine OR waking up with me for his birthday OR giving me that shiatsu treatment. I stayed up, alone (Caeriel was on the computer) until 5AM while Merlen slept. In my restlessness and slight frustration, I left and drove down to the oceanside in Santa Monica. A chunky and very aggressive man approached me for sex. I then sat, perched in a tree limb that created a cradle just inches from the ground, and watched the sun rise over the tall beachfront Santa Monica architecture.

Still restless, I drove to the SRF temple and attended 9:00 AM services, returning home at 10:30. With a smile I cooked french toast and sweet potato home fries for the boys. Merlen and I fucked (now the 3rd time since he's been here) in the bedroom, then got ready for the party that night. I did get a very lovely shiatsu treatment after fucking and before leaving, but it seemed a bit rushed.

We got to Silver Lake a couple of hours before sundown. I enjoyed re-meeting all the guys I met on Friday night (plus a few new ones), especially our most congenial hosts. Merlen and Greg were once again in the same space, so my outpouring of affection for Merlen again needed to be curtailed. The food and the company was very nice... the fyre dancing in honor of Merlen's 33rd birthday was spectacular! But as the evening progressed, I once again found myself outside of the communing. It was getting late... past 1:00 AM. Merlen was downstairs giving Caeriel the full one hour shiatsu he promised him earlier in the weekend. Our hosts, with a very sweet soul named Christian, were, for lack of a more appropriate term, seducing Greg, Merlen's other boyfriend, while I sat alone on the couch, observing from a distance. The four of them called down to Merlen and Caeriel so they too could join in on the "seduction", but they were pre-occupied. For the third time this weekend, I again felt alone, cast to the side to play only as an observer and not a participant.

I now sit here at the computer, trying to find Greg's phone number so I can call out to Merlen, hoping to share some time alone with him before he get on the plane tonight. I tried taking a bath using the special blend of herbs and botanicals Merlen prepared for the two of us (yes, we were supposed to bathe together, but that hasn't happened either), but quicly got frustrated, sitting there all alone. It's 12:30 PM now, and Merlen has not returned from Greg's yet. He said he would be here by 11:00, then take the bus to the corner of Santa Monica and LaBrea from here. He has not called to tell me otherwise.

It seems, although I thought I was going to discover a whole new chapter in my life centering around a very special someone, I am instead very confused, not knowing who to talk to or how to deal with the profoundly deep emotions I feel for Merlen. I'm really deep in love, and I'm afraid, from all the signs I've been getting this weekend, it's not going to work. This has got to be one of the happiest, saddest and most confusing times I've ever experienced simultaneously in my life.

Gemini II

2000-08-03T15:10:55Z

I am recalling this event from memory, two months after the fact. Although this is something that I'd like to avoid here in this journal, this chapter is necessary to paint a more complete picture of the changes that have been happening in my life recently.

Even though we all desperately wanted to attend this weekend camping trip deep in the woods of Lake county, Phil and Dave were not about to once again incur the expense of renting a vehicle for another 180 mile treck north like they did for the Goa Gil event three weeks prior. I was still enraptured with the feeling that last event left me with, so I decided to use my vehicle, even though that meant driving 400 miles to San Francisco to pick up those guys first. We agreed early on that I would do no driving between SF and the camp site because of my long drive between SF and LA.

Although our email correspondences mentioned me arriving at Phil & Dave's apartment at 6:00 PM, the phrase "the earlier the better" was used during subsequent phone conversations. I skipped out of my yoga class and left work early on Friday to beat the LA traffic out. I arrived at P&D's apartment just before 5:00 PM. Without going into too much detail, this was the beginning of a very tenuous three days. Dave was a bit under the weather, and our verbal interactions were less than smooth from the beginning. Pasha, the 3rd passenger in the van, had not arrived yet. Neither Phil nor Dave had even started packing. By the time the four of us and four of P&D's friends, the hetero entourage, were ready to depart, it was past 7:30 and already getting dark. The traffic leaving the city was miserable.

Our destination was many miles off the highway, unlike the last event which was right ON the 101. In fact, we had to drive for 45 minutes on a pitch black, very windy and extremely dusty road to reach the river bed where the party was taking place.

I drove into the camp and up a sharp incline to the camping area. We spent almost an hour setting up our gear in the dark while a crew set a DJ stage and dance area up about 50 yards across a semi-open tree-filled space. Once we had our tarp tied securely to the van and a couple of ironwood trees, one of the organizers told me I had to move the van. Because I let someone (and I can't remember who) borrow my tent and sleeping bag just before I moved to California last year, this meant I was either sleeping in the van way down on the river bed away from my friends, or with my friends out in the open without a tent. I decided the latter, so I dumped my sleeping gear, pulled the already assebled chill space apart and moved the van.

I remembered how hard the roll was at Goa Gil's event, and knowing this piece was from the same recipe, I decided to simply nibble what I had. I danced a bit that night, maybe until 3:00 AM. I then crashed on the blankets that were spread out on a tarp between my van seats. This area was protected only by a second tarp stretched across a few neighboring trees. I had no tent and no sleeping bag. I made sure that I put on one extra layer of clothing to protect me from the early morning temperatures. I spoke to no one that evening, neither the friends I came up with or any new friends. I began to feel isolated and alone.

I woke at 6:00, just as sunlight was appearing over the hillside. I walked the great distance to the entrance where the two port-potties were set up. On my return, a frantic woman ran by and through exderated breaths asked me if I knew where the medical tent was. As I kept walking toward my sleep space I noticed, only 10 yards from my destination, two guys kneeling on the ground. As I approached I realized they were tending to the needs of another man who had apparently fallen from the nearby tree. His name was Joe, and he apparently climbed a great height while I was in the porta-pottie to see the sun rise over the hillside. We will never know what really caused him to fall so violently from his perch, but we did know at that moment that his chance of surviving was very slim. His lung had been punctured, and although he was breathing, blood had started seeping from inside his mouth.

The man at his shoulder was talking with him, encouraging him to fight for his life. The second gentleman, his roomate from back in Berkeley, was kneeling silently. After 15 minutes or so, the three of us started to pray. Not long afterwards, I felt a great rush of energy hit my chest and fly through the back of my head. I looked up to see tears streaming down the face of the first man. Through stuttered breathing he muttered "I saw birds dude. He's gone." I got up, gently touched the two men's shoulders, then proceeded to the tent where Phil and Dave were snuggled together to tell them the news.

I walked down the hill and assisted the DJ down by the river bed. He needed to pack his gear up to make room for the medical helicopter that was to arrive shortly. They did, and left only moments after seeing that Joe had already left us. I would estimate that 75% of the people in attendance just 6 hours ago had now fled the scene in fear of a crackdown. The sherrif arrived and left without a hitch. It was determined immediately that Joe had a terrible accident, and through the testimony of the people that knew of Joe's relatively athletic past, determined that he died while enjoying an activity he was not unfamiliar with and enjoyed in the past very much. Those remaining were gathered by the event's organizers later that morning for a drum circle in tribute to Joe. I once again had the honor of experiencing the presence of Joe's spirit while seated in the circle under the tree. As music was playing and people were singing, chanting and speaking, a bright white light filled my vision, and I was overcome with a strange joy. Tears streamed down my face as I giggled, first internally then outwardly, as if Joe himself were tickling me. I was compelled to speak with Joe's roomate and the man who saw the birds (he was emotionally wrecked at that point) after the cerimony, but I don't remember what it is we talked about.

The rest of the weekend pretty much sucked, except for the brief amount of time I spent at the river bed soaking in the sub Sunday morning. Saturday afternoon Dave and I ended up in an argument, mainly becasue I felt his attitude was less than friendly the entire time we were in each other's presence. Of course Phil, being his husband, needed to support him in his time of need. The only other person I knew there, Pasha, was too high to talk with. Even that evening was bizarre. I saw Phil at the bonfire by the river shortly after he dropped his second dose. These were very powerful pills, the ones he himself said were laced with extra strong MDA in addition to the amount of MDMA normally found in a single dose. He was shivering, almost violently. I hugged him from behind, trying to comfort him, but he immediately wiggled from my grasp, stating that he had to find Dave. He spent a good part of the morning wandering around the camp site looking for Dave. I found Dave later and told him where Phil was, but he was not interested. Instead, he ended up sleeping with Pasha in P&D's tent that night. When I finally crashed outside on my blankets in the cold, I saw Phil climb into the hammoc just a couple of feet over my head. People on e are usually very cuddly and friendly. I anticipated that since his tent was fully occupied, he may want to snuggle up and keep warm with me. Not at all the case, I was once again alone.

The entire weekend ended with everyone in my van being so wiped out that no one, even after I pulled off the side of the freeway and said "I don't think I can finish this drive, can someone drive for me?", helped me with the driving like they said they would. I just wanted to crawl away and never see these people again. I drove back to San Francisco without muttering another word, dropped them off at their apartment and left.

I drove back to Los Angeles that Sunday night, but not until after I met up with my best friend in SF Steven and our mutual friend Shaggy. The three of us had dinner at the Delancy Street restaurant in celebration of Steven's birthday. Had it not been for the bright energy of Shaggy's presence (he truley is the beacon he describes himself as), I would never have survived the 400 mile drive back home.

the magik of merlen

2000-08-02T18:51:19Z

i am picking up cassady (a/k/a merlen) at the Burbank airport tomorrow after work. we will celebrate his 33rd birthday together at a gathering in the dessert. my heart pounds with anticipation.

San Diego Pride

2000-08-02T18:44:46Z

It felt as if I was on a mini tour of California this weekend.

I left the Lake Elsinore area, where the Small World rave took place, at 7:30 AM and headed down the 15 freeway to San Diego to take part in the tail end of their Pride festivities. A longhair brunch had been called by Madoc for 10:00 AM at The Mission restaurant in the North Park neighborhood. A healthy group of four longhair men, one longhair m2f transgender and one fabulous bisexual dominatrix hairdresser showed up.

After brunch I joined my new longhair friend (Gary) from LA for a little shopping and haircutting expedition. Newly trimmed and ready for the world, we headed for the "pink" side of Balboa Park. By now my physical exhaustion began to become apparent. I laid the movers' blanket I brought with me out on the lawn and vegetated, observing the constant flow of interesting folks coming and to and from the festivities.

My buddy Jon was in town from San Francisco to perform with his band Pansy Division. He joined us on the blanket a at around 3:30 and slept in my arms for about an hour. Even though George, a friend of my cousin whom I haven't seen in 18 years was inside selling water, I had no desire to have $12 extorted from me at the gate so I can be bombarded with vendors trying to sell me rainbow clad dog collars. PD wouldn't be on stage until 8:15 anyhow, so I had plenty of time to let the gate watchers get tired of charging the unreasonable entrance fee. Jon could have gotten me in on his guest list anyhow.

I was trying to connect with a few of the new friends that I had met at the rave the night before to see the movie Groove, but the hookup never materialized. Instead I stayed and experienced what must have been my tenth Pansy Division show; I love that band! I took off at 8:45, not quite at the end of their set, to not only beat the traffic, but to hook up one more time before heading home with my new friend Steve at a Starbucks off the 15 freeway. I luckily got there 2 minutes before they locked the door and scored a grande iced coffee from the eager-to-get-home clerk. Steve showed up with a friend a few minutes later, once again bearing butterscotch, my favorite candy.

A night with the kids (It's A Small World After All)

2000-08-02T18:43:24Z

I didn't get to take the nap I thought I was going to be able to take between the airport and the event at 7:00. I got home in just enough time to shower, read my email, iron my clothes and get out of the house. My business partner had purchased four tickets to a benefit at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica for the local free clinic. I got there around 8:00, all tucked into some dress pants, dress shoes, jacket and tie. We milled around, sampling the food and drink while making idle chit-chat with strange women about the traffic conditions in West Hollywood. Knowing I wanted to be at the It's a Small World rave about 90 minutes south before midnight, I excused myself around 9:30.

I had heard about Small World from the Southern California Rave mailing list, whose members call themselves scrubbers. I reached the parking area just off a short dirt road at 11:45. Luckily, as I walked away from my car, there was a pickup truck just about to ascend the half-mile dirt-road incline to the abandoned house that scrubber James (BabyDreamRaver) had so diligently worked on for weeks before this night. Also lucky for me was meeting scrubber Steven (KCobain227) who was nice enough to hook me up with some butterscotch candy :-)

The view from the house at the top of the hill was really nice. The half moon, orange at first, was majestically keeping court over the spread of the city lights below. I was a little concerned when I got out of the pickup truck bed and heard the rowdy yowls of beer drinking adolescent males. Even the music coming from the house was a bit too urban for my liking, but things slowly changed for the better.

James had prearranged for all the scrubbers to meet at his tent at midnight. I found James at 12:05, but no one else from the list had gathered yet. I did get to meet one of James' close friends, a young high school student with a very slight build. I became a bit concerned with him for a while - it seems he had ingested a new mixture of chemical and wasn't prepared for the reaction his body and mind took to them. James and I watched him throughout the night, making sure he was drinking water and that he didn't do anything foolish.

Throughout the night I took note of how much younger than I almost everyone there was. This wasn't much of a concern for me, knowing and abiding by the raver's PLUR creed: Peace, Love, Understanding and Respect. I did fear though that these kids (and yes, most were under 21) would have an issue with the presence of a 34 year old. One 26 year old guy, whom I let borrow my photon lights for a considerable amount of time, thanked me for relieving him of the "grandfather" duties he was so accustomed to at these parties.

The music improved by 2:00 AM and kept going strong until 6:30. Everyone I met and communed with was really nice, and I made a few new young friends. It was refreshing to talk with and get insight from members of the generation that's following on the heels of the generation I'm existing in. By the way Laurence, if you're reading this, you should really work on that kissing issue.

And on the seventh day... NOT

2000-08-02T18:39:31Z

The Lucite ring I had in my right nipple snapped in half Saturday afternoon, and the remaining piece fell out on the dance floor about 12 hours prior to my return to Troy's. In need of something to prevent the hole from closing, I happened across the House of Trance on St. Marks' Place (8th St off 1st Ave) in my search for a piercing studio. On the door was a flyer for GOA GIL's next outdoor event. My very first exposure to anything that resembled a rave-like event was GIL's weekend at Area 101 in the Redwoods near Laytonville CA in May. That single event completely changed the direction of my life, setting me on a spiritual path like I never thought possible. Unfortunately, my personal finances will prevent me from attending this next event because of it's Upstate New York location. In addition, it's happening the same weekend EYEPHUNK's FUSION festival is going down near San Francisco. While at FUSION, I will certainly try and channel some of the energy from GIL's event my way, and project the happy west coast vibes over their way.

Troy and Leonard's company had arrived before I did. "Look what the cat dragged in" greeted me at the door while Troy's guests, some from New Jersey and some from eastern Quebec Province, politely smiled. I was a bit scattered as I tried to assemble myself for the four-hour boat ride I was about to embark upon in just two short hours. I chatted with Mark (my ex-husband in Rhode Island) on the phone for a while. He was planning on joining us Sunday but got swept away in the weekend locally. Glen and his boyfriend arrived at 5:00, and we all left an hour later.

Pier 40, where the boat was loading, was just southwest of the end of Christopher Street. I would be remiss if I didn't mention the very interesting character I witnessed standing near his bicycle. He stood there, meticulously filing his nine-inch fingernails, carefully observing us one by one file up the gangway. The nylon stocking he had wrapped tightly around his skull prevented me from identifying the texture of length of his hair. He appeared to be sporting black eyeliner, and his loosely wrapped garments flowed in the evening breeze. I smiled at him from the upper deck of the boat, and thought I witnessed a bit of a twinkle in his eye just beyond his somewhat larger-than usual and rather bumpy nose as the ship slowly peeled itself from the dock.

The cruise/tea dance was very pleasant, taking us by Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, out around Battery Park, under the Brooklyn Bridge then back again along the southern and western Manhattan shoreline, and back to Pier 40, where we had departed from 3 hours earlier. The sound system was modest, the DJ was good, the buffet-style pasta and salad was OK and the $4.00 coca-cola was way too overpriced.

The relatively small crowd disembarked rather quickly as the music lowered and the light became brighter and brighter. I decided to take the subway up to Times Square from the Village, a mistake I will not repeat. Little did I know that the persistent heat and humidity above does not let the stench and overall grossness of the subway system to escape.

I made it to Troy's at 11:00, and proceeded back to the Fitzpatrick Grand Central for another two nights there.

New York Party Boy - day two

2000-08-02T18:38:19Z

Our second long party night was to begin with meeting another new Internet longhair that I had made contact with weeks before. Troy, Leonard and myself cabbed it up to 96th and Broadway to meet Robert at Carmine's, a huge and apparently very popular Italian family-style restaurant. We were inside for only 60 seconds when Leonard pointed out that the decibel level was enough to cause semi-permanent hearing loss in less than 15 minutes. Robert had just arrived at the curb as we were exiting the ruckus behind us. We all walked up another ten blocks to a much quieter spot and enjoyed a lovely Italian meal. We then all walked back to Robert's more than fabulous apartment, complete with brick walls, a fireplace and a music studio, that he shares with his long time partner.

The three of us left Robert (he dislikes "gay discos") and cabbed it down to Chelsea to meet up with Glen and his new boyfriend at a local watering hole. We stayed only long enough for me to freshen up and have some butterscotch in the boy's room. We then walked down to The Roxy for yet another long night of great music and lots of dancing. This time, though, the BOYS were out!!

Like the absent minded doof that I can be sometimes, I neglected to bring my John Blair card to New York with me? the only city you can use a John Blair card in. We tried the old switch-a-roo, but the rather nasty woman at the window had marked Troy's card with a black marker. I got nabbed as a fraud and had to pay the full $25 cover charge, more than twice the $12 charge a card-carrying John Blair member has to pay. I was more than disappointed, but soon got over the downer as I let the music penetrate my being. For the first half hour, the four of us sat on one of the large sofas in the lounge that, for all intents and purposes, is actually part of the dance floor. The rhythms began their magic, and I was up on the floor, spinning the purple and pink glow sticks by midnight. Our circle shared some ganja treats while on the floor throughout the evening, and Leonard returned home at his usual 2:30 hour.

For some reason I had a somewhat strange affair with the bass bottom cabinets off to the back of the dance floor. Their vibrations were enormously attractive, and I spent most of the evening communing there with it and the other dancing spirits that found a similar attraction there. I danced a great portion of the night away with one such spirit who's name I cannot recall. All I know is that we made each other very happy while we twirled and gyrated to the rhythms.

Another mysterious creature appeared in my sphere of consciousness around 5:30 in search of a roll. I brought one extra piece of butterscotch candy for just such an occasion. We proceeded to the men's room together to get some water and to partake. Once hydrated, we shared a bit of his quite special ganja treat. The two of us returned to the bass bottoms, just in time to say goodbye to the happy spirit I had danced so long with earlier that morning, and to occasionally converse with the other three members of my party who apparently desired the company of the boys in the middle of the floor over the deep vibrations of the loudspeaker I was comfortably perched upon.

As 7:00 passed, my new friend invited Troy and I to join him, his cousin (visiting from Miami) and her boyfriend for more ganja treats at his apartment in Alphabet City. We gratefully accepted his invitation, descended the metal fire escape used as the official Club Roxy exit into the once again soupy morning air, and grabbed a cab to Avenue C.

I had every intention of attending services at the New York Self Realization Center at 10:00 AM. What I didn't count on was the exhaustion to settle in so fast. We all had but one serving of his treat, and we all immediately fell victim to the physical reality of two nights of marathon style dancing. Troy left at 8:30 knowing that Leonard would be concerned if he did not return home soon. I stayed behind, thinking I would crach for an hour and go to services from there.

We climbed the ladder to his elevated bunk and romanced ourselves to sleep. My eyes re-opened at 3:15, long after everyone at SRF had gone home. I immediately called Troy and Leonard to let them know I was alright and that I would be at their place by 4:15.

Sasha and Digweed - reprise

2000-08-02T18:37:07Z

I migrated my belongings to my new digs at Troy and Leonard's apartment high on the 14th floor in Hell's Kitchen, overlooking the Amtrak right-of-way directly below and the Hudson River just to the west. Troy was still working, and contemplating my very aggressive nighttime schedule this weekend, I crashed on the couch while Leonard finished his household chores and various errands. An hour or so after Troy arrived home, all three of us enjoyed yet another perfect meal prepared by Leonard: chicken burritos and guacamole? way too much for any of us to finish in one sitting.

Since Twilo usually doesn't get busy until 2:30 and is known to charge a higher cover charge after 1:00 AM, Troy and I left the apartment around 12:10. We arrived just in time to get in the already long line that filled the sidewalk to capacity. We were in the door by 12:45, but because of the celebrity DJs at the tables, the cover charge turned out to be a rather steep $35. I had heard John Digweed and his apprentice-now-pro DJ Sasha tear up the crowd just four weeks earlier in Los Angeles, so I knew the higher-than-normal price was somewhat justified. My pure from last weekend broke somewhere in transit. The portion that was available to me at Troy's before we left was now at work. Troy and I danced near the elevated booth where the masters were at work, spinning their magic for the masses. The venue sold out long before 3:30 AM, the time it usually fills up.

It turned out that the crowd was more heterosexual than I am accustomed to. Even though their show at the Shrine last month was very hetero-centric, the LA crowd seemed much more willing to smile back when you smiled at them. In general, the guys here in NY looked as if they would tear your face off if you looked at them just a little too long.

The huge crowd made it very hot on the floor, so I retired to the chill space upstairs around 3:00. I sat with two straight guys to my right, and a hetero couple to my left. I am forever making offerings to my fellow partiers, so the breath mints made their rounds. So appreciative were the guys to my right that they offered me a cigarette in exchange. I have not smoked a cigarette in over 15 years. I refused at first, but something in me wanted to experience the sensation again. That lovely Asian man supplied me with that first, then three more cigarettes throughout the evening, each one of them making my heart race, my head light and my senses thrilled. Not in that space now, I do not crave tobacco? it was definitely one of those one time things that, at that moment, I wanted and experienced.

Above my shoulder sat a very attractive man in his mid-twenties named Tim. We began conversing once he occupied the space between the cigarette offering Asian guy and myself. When I told him I lived in LA, he asked about spotting celebrities. I told him that the only famous person I would be weak around is Sir Paul McCartney. Tim laughed hardily as he leaned over and told me that he's Liverpudlian. Being a tremendous Beatles fan myself, our conversation went on for quite some time. It was interrupted by a somewhat perturbed and very sweaty Troy, who had apparently been waiting for me on the dance floor for over an hour. We both returned to the floor, dancing until 8:15 AM.

The air was still thick and heavy outside. The 100% humidity, heavy overcast and occasional showers had now been going on since Tuesday. It made for a very dreary Seattle-like atmosphere.

A quick cab ride got us to Troy's place by 8:30. I crashed before 9:00 AM, waking at 1:00 to grab a bite from the kitchen. I finished my cheese-on-toast sandwich and chocolate chip cookies in Troy and Leonard's company (I must have woken them with the toaster) then went back to sleep until almost 4:30.

Business in the Apple

2000-08-02T18:35:57Z

Getting to Manhattan from either of the NYC airports is a bitch no matter how it's done. We hopped in the back of the black Town Car that just so happened to be on the curb where we thought a yellow cab would be. Of course the driver was happy to risk the fine for illegally soliciting passengers without an appointment and take us into the city, knowing that our $40 was much better than a wasted fare-less ride back from where he came from. The rain that had soaked the roads for the past 24 hours had slowed the evening crawl even more than usual. An hour later we arrived at the Fitzpatrick Grand Central, a cute ten story Irish hotel where one of my business partner's good friend has been working for many years.

The three of us met my friend Xavier for dinner in the hotel restaurant after we freshened up a bit. Xavier spent the night in my room; this was the "night alone" he and I spoke about since we started communicating via the Internet after we met in Los Angeles last year.

Thursday went without a hitch, meeting with the key players in our largest current project. Everyone we met was friendly and very receptive. We even got to check out the operation's new (and currently very modest) office space. After resting up a bit Michael arrived at my hotel room door. He just recently joined the SoCal Queer Longhair club on Yahoo (even though he lives in Manhattan) and via email last week, we decided to meet while I was in town. After chatting and kissing for a short time, we grabbed a cab to 3rd St. and Avenue A. We tried in vain to find the Starlight Lounge, the live music club that he had heard was somewhere near that intersection on the lower east side, so we settled on dinner at a great Ukranian spot on First Avenue. Conversation flowed freely over the two hours we spent picking at our blueberry perogis. Now almost midnight and knowing we both have to work the next day, we grabbed another cab and retired to my room at the hotel.

Friday's brief meeting at 10:00 AM was neither hot nor cold. It ended almost as quickly at it began with little but introductions getting accomplished. Now not on duty again until Monday morning at 11:00, I was free to begin my three day partying binge with my longhair friend Troy and our collection of friends.

'All-Ways Tribal'

2000-07-26T15:49:32Z

Weekdays seem relatively mundane compared to my weekends lately. That wasn't always the case. I received an email on Monday that read:

'ALL-WAYS TRIBAL' (A Ritual Working Ceremony)

Traditional Tatooing -High Gauge Piercing-
Organic Music Kaos Magick - Belly Dancing - Fyre Dancing/Eating
Tarot Reading w/Wing & Dawn of Aquarius
Mayan Astrology w/William DreamStar & Spontaneous Ritual Whateva's

AElphs & Faeries & Goblins & Dragons & Witches & Wizards
Magicians & Mind & Sorcery & Sorcerers & Brothers &
All that dwell outwithin, come, and let us spin the Vortex
of Inner Transformation en Outter Mutation --
through each other we dissolve the humanalien malevolence,
for all desire is illusion bound to the wheel of time.

Bring organic fruit and red wine
Bring one, two or more candles (w/o religious iconography)
as an offering to The House of Tara and as a Blessing
for the Serpent Gods & Goddesses within you ...

Drums, flutes, pipes, all organic instruments wellcome ...
Evening: Friday July 21st, 2000
Time: 830 pm - ????

ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY NO ALCOHOL (e.g. beer, liquor)
REMEMBER AND RESPECT
This is a Private/Invite who you know 'party' for family, friends,
and interstellar freakazoidoids, please do not bring your
'famefuckerfriends' ... peace and much love.

your in waking, smelly aelph

I knew I needed to meet with friends on business up in San Francisco some time soon, so I figured a quick one-day trip would accomplish two things. It accomplished so much more than I had ever anticipated.

I got to LAX in plenty of time to catch my 2:30 flght to SFO. A heavy fog over the SF Bay kept us grounded in LA until 3:45. Upon arrival, based upon the recommendation of a longhair friend of mine (who will remain Pasha nameless right now), I decided to switch my normal routine of taking the SAMTRANS bus and opted for the shuttle to the CALTRAIN commuter rail station... MISTAKE! I fianlly arrived in downtown San Francisco around 6:30. It took me almost as long as it takes to drive to SF from LA this time.

Dinner with Steven and Greg (friends and business associates) went very well; I love those guys!

While waiting for the train into town from the airport, I called about 6 friends to see if any of them wanted to attend the party with me that evening. Logos and Jon called back, both declining my invite.

I arrived at the party around 9:30. At the top of the staircase, straight ahead was a candlelit altar. The hallway extended forward just to the right of the altar. There was much commotion going on; bright lights and a video camera in the kitchen at the end of the hallway; drumming and digeree doo music coming from the parlor; two belly dancers getting dressed in the bathroom; various interesting folk milling around on the staircase landing. I gave my offering of tea-light candles and 5 cobalt glass holders to the resident of the apartment; she seemed very grateful.

I entered the parlor just in time for the belly dancer performance. There seemed to be a large number of people squeezed into this typically small space, but never did it seem uncomfortable. Finally I spotted the "aelph" who invited me. Cassady had my email because I had photographed him at SF Pride this year, and I gave it to him so I could forward him copies. He was surprised to learn that his invitation was sent to a Los Angeles resident. Funny how the universe makes paths cross the way it does. You see, Cassady has plans to move to LA in two months.

Being a busy bee party organizer, he flittered away for a while while I took some photographs and made some new friends. One of these new friends, Caeriel, is also planning to move to Los Angeles. Another of these new friends already lives in Santa Monica. Both of them, it turns out, are staying at Cassady's place in Oakland. Caeriel and I spoke briefly about him moving into the room my current roommate is vacating soon when he moves up to SF. Also, I've been entertaining leaving my current space in lieu of more affordable accomodations further inland. The seed has now been planted. As soon as I get back from New York, I will be seeking a three bedroom place somewhere in Sliverlake, or just south of Melrose and east of Fairfax, or somewhere close to the Miracle Mile area for myself, Caeriel and Cassady.

Cassady not only had the bridge of his nose pierced that night, but he also got the tattoos on the tops of both feet enhanced. The artist used traditional tribal inking tools (two sticks, one with a needle strapped to the end) which required that someone stretch the skin back. While I was pulling the skin back on Cassady's foot, I asked him if he knew where I could stay that night. Much to my best friend Michael's dismay, I don't always plan for accommodation in advance if I know there may be alternatives available. At first Cassady said I should stay at the apartment where we were, but then changed his mind and brought me to his place in Oakland. I was offered the couch there but ended up on the floor when someone else claimed the sofa as theirs at around 2:30 AM. I found myself lying on the floor off to the side of Cassady's bed, admiring his presence as muted sunlight broke through the heavily draped Bay-facing bedroom window. I woke him at 8:30 to announce my departure; we kissed until almost 9:00.

Had it not been for my PacBell employee friend Mark, my company would not be using the DSL service today that we had been promised a month earlier. After missing two busses in Oakland and getting kicked off one of them for not having the right change, I finally met him for breakfast at Sparky's on Church a little after 11:00. He loved the flowers.

Even though Mark got me to SFO in plenty of time to catch my return flight, it too was grounded for almost an hour, putting me back in Los Angeles at 3:30. I must remember to pray to the transportaion goddess before leaving next time!

Weekend wrapup

2000-07-17T23:38:48Z

Thursday night... attended prayer service at the Lake Shrine.

Friday night... still not feeling 100%, fell asleep on the couch after looking at the prints I had ordered from ofoto of the SOULSPRING gathering. Stephano woke me up at 10:20 with a phone call; I was supposed to be at his place an hour earlier. OOPS!! I got there by 11:00, and then we headed to the Biltmore hotel downtown for a free overnight stay. We went 'cause it was closer to Union station than either of our apartments. Lovely fruit basket!

Saturday morning... we got on the train to San Diego at 7:15, transferred to the Blue Line trolley at the Santa Fe Station and arrived in Tijuana at 11:00. Funny honor system on the San Diego transit system - you buy the tickets at a vending machine and no one ever takes them from you.

Tijuana... we went in, bought and left. Got delayed 45 minutes in the line at the border headed back into the States. I had to turn in an apple from the Biltmore?s fruit basket since it had crossed the border. We missed the train back to LA by 10 minutes. We ate a less than satisfying lunch at a brewery in downtown SD, then got the next train back. Over a dozen AIDS Ride folks were a bit too full of adrenaline, standing in the train aisle and singing spiritual songs.

Saturday night... I got back home in time to shower and head out to some club on Sunset near the Beverly Hills city limit that I saw in a rave listing. It looked like a private club, with all these finely dressed young men and women, some eating dinner, others just sitting around at and I was dressed all wrong, in my black-light ready psychedelic shirt and my black, rubber coated Levi 505 jeans with the glow-in-the-dark PEACE iron-on patch above the back right pocket. I left after milking my $4.00 coke for 20 minutes. Went home feeling a bit down, reflecting on how powerful the past three weekends had been for me and how lonely I felt at that particular point in time. I flirted with the idea of going to Club Giant, but thought better of it knowing the low percentage of other gay guys there. Went home and cruised AOL for a while and almost hooked up, but decided to call it a night at midnight.

Sunday... attended 9:00 AM service at the Lake Shrine. Excelent service on the ways to bring God into your life, and about motivation. I finally submitted the form for the SRF weekly lessons!

I didn?t want to drive to or spend money at the longhair brunch, so I drove home. Bill called not 5 minutes after I got in saying no one had showed up for the brunch. I invited them over, then cooked eggs, potato and toast for him, Robert and myself.

Got on my bike at 2:20 and rode back to the Lake Shrine for the Brazilian guitarist concert I had purchased two $25 tickets for. Dennis got sick and couldn?t show. I invited a few other people to go, but only one, my friend Andy that I met online, joined me there. He ended up buying his own ticket, so I asked a staff member if I could swap the unused ticket out for a ticket to the 50 year celebration in August. The concert was really good! Got a ride back to my place in Andy?s pickup truck. I cooked dinner for the two of us. After he left, I made a CD with all the spiritually based Beatles songs I knew of, then fell asleep on the couch. Back to work!

A Turning Point

2000-07-17T17:18:07Z

I got this email from my friend Phil on May 10:

</font>next Saturday, the 20th, is the big 35 for me, and it just so happens that there's going to be a camping rave at the same campground we went to for NYE, and it turns out that one of the superstar DJs of the psytrance circuit is going to be spinning all night long. It was great fun when we went for NYE, a very mini sort of Burning Man experience from what I've been told, and it looks like it will be the same set-up as before, with a big party in the concrete barn, a DJ at the firepit spinning ambient, and the Dragnet set of the hippie love orgy with groovy ambient in the house. Oh, and there's camping too. It's a trip you really shouldn't miss. Check out this link for info.

Having never been to an outdoor camping dance weekend long event, I figured it would be a great way to celebrate such a momentous occasion with my longhair friends. It turns out that this single event has completely altered my life's path.

I flew to SFO Friday afternoon, took the bus downtown, then walked up to my best buddy Steven's apartment on 14th St. in the Duboce Triangle neighborhood. A few of us got together that night at Chuck's apartment and did a little pre-birthday celebration for Phil. Chuck reminds me in so many ways of the Mrs. Madrigal character in Armistead Maupin's Tales Of The City. He was quite delighted while making sure everyone had their "snacks" for the long drive the next day. As he placed a neatly wrapped chocolate cookie in my hand, through a wide grin he whispered in my ear "a little elf tells me you should only eat half of this at one time."

The guys (Phil & Dave) had rented a minivan for the 3? hour, 160 mile drive north to Laytonville. Late Saturday morning, six of our group of 8 piled in. Scooter followed us up in his pickup truck loaded with his dog, a leopard-skin covered mattress in the truck's bed, and the 8th member of our posse.

The crew decided to stop at a Walmart along the way up. Having personally boycotted Walmart many years ago, I decided to stay behind. While alone in the van, I remembered the gift Chuck had handed to me the night before. Ready for the adventure, I did as he said and ate just half... no, even a bit less than half of that tasty treat. Having a low tolerance for chemicals of all kinds, it's a darned good thing that elf was around with that warning. I was feeling more than just happy when we arrived at the campgrounds.

We pulled into a driveway where a billboard sized sign with a glimmering silver UFO painted on it read AREA 101. The party was really beginning that evening, so arriving at 3:00 PM was perfect timing. We were able to find the best camping spot up against a sharp incline with the chill house just a short walk up the path and the fully functional indoor toilet building the same distance from us down the path toward the dance area. The grounds were just right for such an event. Envision a horseshoe shape bent into an L. The entire canyon was surrounded by steep inclines covered with redwood and other tall trees. At the end of the horseshoe was a concrete platform where the music would soon be emanating from. Just beyond the platform was a small but beautiful waterfall. All around the platform people were busy setting up large black-light tapestries and various other eye-capturing scenery. To the right of the platform was a metal garage; this building is where I met the person that literally changed my life.

After walking the grounds for a while, the gang got together at 8:00 to celebrate Phil's big 35. We sat in a circle and passed around a translucent plastic carton of cupcakes, each with a small candle placed preciously in the center of each. Now it was time to roll. Again, knowing my sensitivity to chemicals and still feeling the cookie, I was careful to break mine and only swallow half.

The sun had by now disappeared behind the hills across the 101 highway. The silver UFO on the sign at the entrance glowed now, shimmering and welcoming each new set of headlights that happened upon it. By 9:00, for some odd reason, I didn't feel any different than I did while we were eating cupcakes. I returned to my bag at the tent area, consumed the other half, then proceeded to walk down the hill toward the thumping rhythms of DJ Goa Gil with another from our entourage. Although I can only recall most of what happened over the next twelve hours, I am very certain that it was the most pleasurable contiguous 12 hours of my life.

The sound system they had set up was flawless. The acoustics of this natural open-ended bowl made it sound as if the earth itself was the instrument, and every sound emanated from the soil and the trees. I danced under the trees and the stars for some time, observing the fire dancers up the hill a bit. I began to feel the need to walk over to the garage to see what was going on there. As I looked around, I began to realize that this was not just a dance or just a camping event, but also a spiritual gathering. I began to discover the many temples around the campgrounds. There were several in the chill house, two to the left of the DJ in a small tool shed, and the one in the metal garage that I was heading to.

Psychedelic images were being projected on the wall to the right as you entered the garage. To the left was a small couch set up as a chill space. Straight ahead and in the center against the back wall of the garage was a large worship area with many deities beautifully placed on a drop cloth and gently illuminated by small white twinkle lights overhead. I found myself observing (what was later described to me as) a "chakra cleansing" at the front of this area. As I walked over to the ceremony, I began to loose consciousness of my physical body. I knelt behind the three people having their chakras cleansed. They were already kneeling, and the healer was anointing their palms, wrists and foreheads with various oils. Every so often I glanced up to see what kind of magic was happening before me. I periodically made eye contact with the healer. Each time our eyes met I felt I could hear him say something, although he spoke no words (nor could I hear them over the music even if he was speaking). I thought heard him say that I had a "good spirit", and then ask me if I was psychic. I thought for a minute that he might be upset with me for interrupting his work. That thought fled my mind as, while still on my knees and my feet still under by butt, my body leaned back gently. A bright white light filled my vision as the back of my head reached the ground, and a euphoric peace came over my entire being.

I don't remember much between that point in time and the time I heard the first bell. The healer had started a ritual on me, using his Tibetan finger chimes. Again, my memory not serving me well here, I don't recall the time between the bells and the walk we took over to where he had parked his car behind the garage. After talking there for a little while (and finding out that we lived only 3 miles apart in Los Angeles) he lead me to the dance area. Still not completely "with myself", there were several times while dancing when our eyes would meet, and his entire body would disappear from my vision temporarily. It felt as if my "being" joined his, only to separate again several seconds later. A slender, very exotic looking woman wearing a veil of sorts with darkly lined almond shaped eyes, a tan but very smooth Indian or Israeli-like complexion and a colored gem in the space between her eyebrows began dancing with us. On occasion I felt as if she too was drawing me into her being as the healer did earlier. She seemed much more mischievous in her undertakings. This experience left me to think that she knew I didn't understand what was happening, and that she was taking great pleasure knowing she was playfully controlling me, and at the same time showing me something very special.

The healer walked me over to the smaller temple in the tool shed. He told me he needed to be alone for a while and left me there by myself. I remember seeing the moon earlier, three days past a full moon, surrounded by a heavenly aura (enhanced by my dilated pupils of course). I suddenly felt the overwhelming need to thank the gods present that evening for the experiences I was having. I spent the next hour, give or take 15 minutes, kneeling in front of a candle lit golden Genesh surrounded by several other religious symbols, statuettes and paintings. Others came into the temple and worshiped beside me. On several occasions I was inspired to utter words, but nothing I said to those around me seemed to come from "my" head. I would close my eyes for a while and allow myself to fall deep into the darkness. Suddenly a bright light would fill the inside of my eyelids, and it felt as if the gods at the alter on the plywood floor in front of me were feeding my lips with utterances. In retrospect, it felt like just for that short time, I became a channel for the gods to be heard. I recall someone dropping rose petals on my head at one point. In gratitude for the experience, I later arranged the petals in a perfect circle in front of the gods and left several of my rock candies at the altar before I departed. On my way out of the shed, another alter was set up at chest height just to the side of the doorway. The light from what must have been just a couple of small candles flooded my vision while another euphoric wave resonated though my body. I walked away from the temple a completely different person.

Just as the early morning sunlight was appearing on the elevated horizon, I returned to the tent area to take care of my physical body, the one I was slowly coming back into contact with. I was so grateful to the healer for delivering me to the gods that I felt I needed to find him, tell him of my experiences and thank him. I returned to the healer's vehicle to find him deep in trance, blasting some death metal sort of music through the stereo speakers in the SUV he was seated in. I tapped on the driver's window and smiled. Once over the initial fright, he invited me into the car. After a few moments, we decided to take a walk. After walking up a steep gravel road, we found ourselves overlooking the dance area, high above DJ Goa Gil, who by the way was still going strong after 10 hours of spinning. He laid his poncho out over the soil, and we sat together, arm in arm, watching the sun rise over the hills. What he and I did for the next hour will be our little secret, but I will tell you that he fed me dew drops from the tip of a blade of grass.

Later that day I was able to articulate to myself something I had always thought but could never really explain: God is light; light is energy; energy is everywhere, and it exists in many forms. Humans have since the beginning had to present an earthly physical representation of the universe's energies to simplify the explanation of "God" or higher beings in general. Energy is in every part of the universe, every part of our planet and everything on and in the planet.

My new job!

2000-07-11T17:32:36Z

Oooh, I forgot to mention... I started yesterday as a partner at Blue Lab! I am ever so excited about this new professional opportunity. Many new experiences await me on so many levels. Woo-HOO!!!!!!!!!

SOULSPRING weekend

2000-07-11T17:04:46Z

I came out to Dennis at work by telling him what bars I went to while in his previous hometown of New York City. He and I since then have connected on a level beyond the gay thing. We went to a healing service at the Self Realization Fellowship together a couple of weeks back, and this weekend he cancelled a date with a real cutie Friday night to come with me to soulspring

We finally got on the 405 northbound at around 8:00 PM after numerous stops for gas, supplies and cash. While on highway 14 toward Mojave, I noticed a trail of light extending skyward from the horizon to the north. Dismissing it as illuminated construction equipment in the distance, I was floored by what I saw next. A white dot, intense like the dot on an old television screen as it's shutting down, appeared briefly in the sky to our left. Suddenly, four brilliant white arcs extended from the dot, forming what I can only describe as the pattern children make in the snow when making snow angels. A blue-green cloud began to appear in the center of the angelic pattern. Cars were stopping along the roadside to get a better look. I kept driving, thinking that any minute our visitors would be beaming us up one by one. As it turns out, we were very close to the military installation where the US Government had just released a missile so they could attempt to shoot it down over the Pacific ocean with their multi-billion dollar anti-missile system. Even though the test failed (again), it was a great light show nonetheless.

My car stereo's clock is about 5 minutes fast. Now heading north on highway 395, I felt a very warm vibe as my clock read 12:05. During the five minutes to follow, this sensation felt as if the tribe at the gathering we were headed for was welcoming us from afar. I woke Dennis up to tell him the news.

I realized I had passed my turnoff when I saw the sign for the town of Mammoth Lake. In search of a telephone, we found our way to a hotel in town where I was (unintentionally) able to make the woman behind the desk jump clear out of her skin by disturbing her early morning slumber. We headed back down highway 395 a few miles, arriving at the site just past 1:30 AM.

Even with the half moon shining above, it was difficult to make out the landscape, other than the obvious absence of arboreal life. The greeter at the entrance instructed us to place our vehicle at the edge of the circle close to the port-a-johns. Knowing there were natural hot springs available to us now, both Dennis and I bundled up, grabbed our towels and followed the three tikki torches to the steaming pools of sulfuric comfort in the ground.

Still pretty darned cold, it was the brilliance of the morning sun blaring through the steam covered windows of my "tent on wheels" that woke me around 6:30 AM. I decided to relocate slightly and set up a protected chill space, something very necessary when there is no natural shade available. My friend Dave wandered up the path, past my "fox's den", roll of toilet paper in hand. I returned to his tent area with him to find an entire queer longhair posse from San Francisco, Pasha, Phil, Dave and Will, had arrived the night before.

Familiar faces abounded, people I recognized from the two gatherings I attended over the previous two months. The 100 or so pictures my camera captured over the following 36 hours tell more than I could ever describe here. What is to follow is a description of a few personal experiences that a picture could never expose.

At the back end of a covered pickup truck, closest to the DJ area, was another covered chill space. This one had a brilliant light in the center of the tarp on the ground. In front of the light was a coffee table sized picture book, filled with images from the far east. Earlier in the day Saturday I saw someone glancing at an image of snow covered mountains on the page before her seated body. Trying to be social and not realizing where she really was, I quipped "going skiing?" Her reaction was much less than I anticipated, so I walked away. I returned to that area a couple of hours later to find a young man glancing intensely at the same book. Looking up briefly his eyes met mine. I followed what felt like an intuitive instruction, almost like instinct, to kneel beside him and share his experience. What was to follow completely rocked my existence. With his left cheek pressed firmly against my right cheek, we began to explore the contents of the book. I was floored by the feeling that our bodies had become one. Every muscular movement one of us made was completely duplicated in the other's body. We simultaneously focussed in on the exact same images, pulling away to glance at the next when our collective self felt it was time to move on. There were photos of places and people and events that my spirit was enraptured to have the opportunity to visit. The images captured in the photographs seemed so lifelike, the detail so vivid, that at times I paused to thank the gods for allowing me to be in these sacred places with my new found friend, Curtis.

Dancing. Yes, I did do some dancing. After some time had elapsed dancing around under the ever so visible milky way, I decided to worship at the altar set up in front of the DJ for a little while. Seated in my best lotus position (thanks to Cam, my Yoga instructor back in LA), I began to pray and meditate. Suddenly, as the music surrounded my senses, my arms seemed to elevate without the assistance of my body (on a conscious level anyhow), as if attached to divine marionette strings. The gods got lots of my candy that night for that one!

Unlike my experience at the Gemini gathering a few weeks before, this weekend was full of meeting new, friendly and open hearted people and sharing experiences with them that I never knew were possible. Everyone seemed so much more open this time around. Even the federal rangers were out in full force, supporting our gathering by building a bonfire Saturday night and taking our trash for us Sunday morning. The cosmos was really shining brightly on us that weekend!

At some point I was introduced to Curtis' wife (I am really horrible remembering names). She had connected with a very intriguing gentleman in the hot springs early Sunday morning. Just before departing at 1:00 Sunday afternoon, as the gulls arrived to send us on our way, the three of us said our good-byes in a way that opened the path to us connecting again, soon.

Thank you Nicole. You're a beautiful person with a radiant spirit. I can't wait to run into you again. :-)

To Nathan and all the other ministers of music, THANK YOU! To the organizers at KOINONEA... you are truly blessed, and I'm so glad I could share this space in time with you. To everyone else: Namasté.

Trail Mix

2000-07-06T23:31:50Z

Like the other 3000 ravers on the dance floor at 6:00 AM Tuesday morning, I didn't want the experience to end. Knowing the show was coming to a close, I began to leave the security of the dance floor and headed up to the balcony so I can get 1) a birdseye view of the crowd, and 2) get a closer look at the guys that had guided me through a 7 hour deep-reaching soul-shaking trancedance experience. I'm very glad I did.

The lights came up and the crowd roared, but then the music continued on for another fifteen minutes. At the end of the encore, security began shuffling the minions out into the streets. Wanting no part of competing with the thousands, trying to find a cab back home at that wee hour of a holiday morning, I craftily (like the fox I was named for) worked my way behind the barricades that separated the revelers from the revelees. I acted as casual as I knew how, occasionally offering to anyone who caught my eye what little trail mix I had left from a plastic bag that I kept dangling from my left forefingers.

I finally made it over to the tables from where the evening's magic was spun, and there stood DJ Sasha himself. Exhausted from dancing to his and John Digweed's mystical potions, I had quite a difficult time expressing the flood of emotions I was experiencing. I'm sure I came across as a babbling idiot when I told Sasha that I used to DJ many years ago, and that his performance was flawless, a hundred times more powerful than anything that ever came from my 1200's. He politely grinned, shook my hand and was off.

I then retreated to the balcony, still offering my trail mix to the remaining persons still lingering around ground zero. Suddenly a voice in my right ear grabbed my attention. I intuitively invite the gentleman speaking to me to partake of the nutritional treats still available in my sandwich baggie. I think he may have thought the contents of the baggie were of the "party" and not of the "breakfast" variety.

Ron and I talked for so long on the balcony that, before we knew it, there was no one but a cleaning crew in the auditorium. With the morning sun attempting to bust through the grime on the second floor windows, we decided to head on outside to grab a taxi to his hotel room. In the parking lot we were crossed by a small cavalcade of cars, heading out, containing the Masters of Ceremony themselves and their entire posse, all heading off to some lurid after-hours party of their own. Ron smiled cordially and shouted to them that he'd contact them later in the day.

Ron and I spent a lovely six hours together, first chatting on the couch, and then retiring to bed. Ron was reading scriptures at some point... or was that a dream? We finally checked out at 1:30 PM, just as the front desk called to politely ask us when we were going to vacate the suite. We first headed to my place in West LA, then over to the Abbey in West Hollywood for a mid-afternoon meal. I was feeling slightly dazed, a combination of the chemicals from the night before and what was turning out to be a more than perfect weekend. Suddenly my roommate, who had left the Sasha/Digweed show at 1:00 because of the lack of a "gay vibe", walked in to the Abbey with his new friend that he met at the Spike the night before. The look on our faces must have been priceless to find that each of us, white as the newly fallen snow, had both befriended mocha colored boyfriends the night before, AND ended up at the same restaurant!!! Strange things happen in this world!

Something told me not to leave right away after the music ended. I actually started walking down the stairs, but was called back for some reason. I have a feeling that the new friendship Ron and I have started is going to have a large impact on both our lives. We'll see....

I got home at 6:00 PM after dropping Ron off at that lurid after-hours party location somewhere in Hollywood. Needless to say, I slept straight through to 8:00 the following Wednesday, getting up just in time for work. It's now Thursday afternoon, and I'm STILL high (not from chemicals) from all that happened to me this past weekend. I can't wait for this up-coming weekend... http://www.koinonea.org/