Posts Tagged ‘sex’

You've Got Mail From Ravi Of India


14 Mar

ravi-india

Ravi Of India

samplex

Date: Sat, 14 Mar 1998 21:06:46

Dear Gabriel,

Finally, I am glad that I got a reply to my endeavour. You are really honest. Good, I like such people. After all, what is a man going to get by hiding, except the title "HYPOCRITE". Although your tone was serious but I love to accept facts. I love to make friends afterall we have one life, ain't it?. I don't have friends out side India. So, I wanted one. And today I got one.

Regarding me, as I told you I am 22years old and the only child of my parents. My father works in a Government factory. I completed my Engineering last year and I am learning JAVA Programming Language now, as there is a huge demand for Software Engineers in India.I don't have access to Internet as you do.I get access to it twice or thrice a week, so my reply may be a little bit delayed. So, please be patient.

I am 5feet 8inches tall and weigh 56Kg.Let me tell you some of my Do's and Dont's.

Dont's
------
1) Smocking
2) taking Alcohol
3) watching Movies.
4) tacking Drugs(Oh! it's a very big word to me)

I didn't have sex so far.I want to have it with my wife alone.Hey, don't be in a hurry, I don't have any proposals right now. Marriage after 3 years. Let me tell you one secret. I haven't touched a girl either, with a few exceptions, when I accidentally fell on them when the driver of the bus applied brakes suddenly.

Do you think I am bluffing or not honest? I don't know what you believe in, else I would have sweared by that. But I am telling you the truth. I hate Hypocrites. And I don't want to be such a one. Coming to my Do's
-----------------
1) I believe in GOD very firmly.
2) I read mostly spiritual Books.
3) I like Cricket(as india is a bit good in Cricket)
4) making friends and adjusting myself to their nature.

I am a Hindu by birth. But, in the year 1993 November, I gave my heart to JESUS and my parents followed me soon. I love this complete man, son of GOD and the only Saviour. My family is the only one who accepted Christianity among my relatives. Although I don't believe in the word "Christianity" still CHRIST is my LORD. After all it's not religion which saves a sinner but CHRIST. I fell in love with HIM and I enjoy it every moment of my day. I read the Old Testament 4 times and the new nearly 10 times.

As the sunday descends, it's a festival to us. We go to the Church in the morning at 10 A.M and return back in the afternoon at 2P.M. We have a youth meeting in the evening for one hour.
You might call me religious. Yes, I am. After all we belong to HIM. Am I boring You? No....isn't it?.

Coming to my city, I live in Hyderabad which is having a population of 6 million. This is a big city, following Bombay,Calcatta,Delhi,Madras and Bangalore. Hyderabad is the capital city of the state Andhra Pradesh adjacent to Madras.

The big problem in India is the over population. As a result, very little value is given to the human life. Even if a man is murdered at a cross road on a busy day, nobody cares about the dead man. They just don't want to trouble themselves.

Corruption is another devil here.If you want to get some work done, you got to give a bribe (they call it inam (gift)). If you have money, that's it. You are a raja (king).

Even though India is a multicultural, multilinguistic still there are many loopholes inside. You know how badly the Britishers treated Indians, still we haven't learned the lessons. We today treat a fellow man as a Britisher does. Even though we got freedom from British rule still we are slaves to selfish motives of the heart.

In India it is hard to say that you are a christian. The society treats them as untouchables. Not just that, they threaten you to leave the faith and might even assault you. But you have to make a decision whether to please men or GOD. Even the Government takes back some of the facilities given to a hindu if he converts. We have religious freedom but at the same time some unseen troubles. I thank GOD that this is slowly changing.

In America you have very good Christians like Billy Graham, Oral Roberts and John Osteen. I consider this to be the reason why America is so prosperous.

I am really happy that you don't have cancer but, at the same time I am pricked in heart to know that you have to undergo a surgery. I assure you of my fervent prayers and wish that everything becomes fine very soon.

Can you send me an American poem on the love of GOD. Please don't say No. Please do write to me some tips, on web designing.

Is the President Bill Clinton safe from the clutches of Monica Levinsky? In India B.J.P is likely to form the government at the center with the help of nearly 10 parties. It may not be too long before we go for another Election.

Please send me Your postal address in the reply if you don't mind.

Your's in Love,

G.Ravi Kumar
[address withheld]

For GOD so loved the world that HE gave HIS only begotten SON that Who so ever believes in HIM shall not perish but have everlasting LIFE.(Roman 10:9). He, that said I know HIM and keep not HIS commands, is a liar and the truth is not in HIM.(1john2:4).
Sir Gabriel, do you know HIM personally? If not please accept HIM. For LORD said "Taste me and know that I am good". Please taste HIM.

Sex As Marketplace Commodity


24 Jul

commodity

Sex As Commodity

samplex

Originally published on July 24, 1996

Not to beat a dead horse into dog food, Landry, but I nevertheless am still interested in digging deeper into this topic of exploring what you as a female writer deem appropriate sexual language and conduct, specifically at the social level, as a (willing/unwilling) member of the freelance pseudo-liberated Generation X thinktank. Or more precisely, the differences whereby men and women perceive the sexual personae, and one's respective duties and roles within the arena. For despite my own mental gymnastics, and occasional outburst among friends and foes of the nightclub antic, I am basically a self-described prude in this matter by default. My prudishness comes from not wanting to hurt the feelings of others, nor have my own wobbly branches burned by the terminally spitfired. I'm not particularly squeamish to broach topics with extreme candor, but the wolves of public opinion can be quite brutal and unforgiving as I have been schooled time and time again.

First a few definitions: pseudoliberated. You touched on this concept by admitting your awareness of blatant contradictions in what your own spirit of freedom tells you versus what your reality-checking brain dutifully informs you is necessary to remain in control of what can soon degenerate into a chaotic and unrewarding sensual killing field if unchecked because of the very nature of individuality. The plain fact is that every person of every generation is genetically (both physically & psychologically) predisposed to a certain level of what passes in the popular mind as freedom but it is plain to see that not everyone is at liberty to express that freedom, which is the stomping ground of the upper classes of beauty, strength, and finance.

However, in the general sense, this freedom is then tested in the sexual marketplace. Gains and losses accumulate. Winners, losers, predators, victims, survivors, casualties. That's the real clay court of the sex game, the match, volley, love, point of the sex game. The sexual elite? Without too much rehashing of old literature we both know that one person's freedom is often another person's enslavement. Each camp seeks its own reflection in the mirror of its ideological yearnings. We each, male & female, across the entire corpus of human identity use different tools to plow the field, sow the seed, and harvest the fruit of our lusts and loves, fetishes and fixes. Individual tastes are formed by a complex matrix of genetics and environmental influences working within us at every turn.

I am equally stricken with a loathing that spreads out beyond that primitive misogyny men are often accused of, rightfully so, to encompass my own fistful of oh so girlie traits the radical feminists harp so much about while lacking a fair shade of the same themselves. We all need to face a few facts. Few of us are ever given a fair shake to show all our cards beyond an exterior and a few words. Male or female. Games are played with romantically inclined falsehoods parading around in the name of spectacular truth, a truth called love. Only once this false game of shadows and overwrought sentimentality has been diminished and replaced with a more intrinsic set of values will equality even find its true voice in the war between the sexes.
Often over the course of a life we change to meet the evermutating challenges of sensuality and desire. Common sense and societal mores of the day often intrude upon what we would embrace if left to our own whimsy. Thus few of us can in truth boast that we are truly liberated. And those who are almost always use this sexual freedom to their own accumulative advantage while the many are still left to fend for themselves in the heat of the battle. Freedom or liberty in this case can only mean freedom of opportunity to succeed or fail, not equality of outcome which is a ridiculous notion everywhere, even the actual sex trade profession—which is also strangled by natural socio-economic stratification—to put a finer point on the realities of sexual politics, never mind the basic argument of one's personal freedom from an oversexualized society if that better suits one's real or alleged moral purposes. This component of the gender war is simply unmanageable in a heterogenous culture, unfortunately, as you've realized by living in San Francisco.

Greater thinkers of antiquity, I submit, realizing this, suggested suppression of the personal urges tempered by cooly ignoring social outlets when the former didn't chill the fevers, rather than having lunatics always chasing a false rainbow corrupting the loins with the tricks of envy and abuse, forced by success and especially, persistant failure of the one night stand, serial monogamy, and prostitution. I observe women with their hypertextual sense of liberal guilt dissatisfied with the roles natural history has prepared for them—for the those female masses rarely take pity on the hordes of men delegated by natural order to mere pawns by the sexual princes and princesses ruling the sexual arena, but consistent with their inherent tools and battle plans are often cold taskmasters, subtle manipulators, starving their opponents and thwarting their competition by any means necessary in order to control the field usually to the chagrin of all parties, themselves included. These women too, are abusers, and their types are legion.

I realize many of the above statements can and will infuriate many a feminine perspective. None of my postulates are meant to pacify female anger for the brutality men have set upon them throughout history, but let's not forget men have mistreated men with similar if not more virulent gusto, as Paglia has pointed out. If you knew me better, you would know that I am grievously sick with self-loathing turned against the gender sporting cock, balls, upper body strength, and this so-called social power everyone in the PC generation is always raving about. Pure madness is afoot and I call for a truce, but who are we kidding? The War Between the Genders is very real for those who feel threatened, and that number includes both women and men for both similar and divergent reasons. Life is not a wind-up toy.

But finally after 32 or 33 years of apotheosizing the feminine component of humanity, and weaned from this generalized self-loathing by the redemptive notions of writer Camille Paglia, no wilting violet herself, I am equally stricken with a loathing that spreads out beyond that primitive misogyny men are often accused of, rightfully so, to encompass my own fistful of oh so girlie traits the radical feminists harp so much about while lacking a fair shade of the same themselves. We all need to face a few facts. Few of us are ever given a fair shake to show all our cards beyond an exterior and a few words. Male or female. Games are played with romantically inclined falsehoods parading around in the name of spectacular truth, a truth called love. Only once this false game of shadows and overwrought sentimentality has been diminished and replaced with a more intrinsic set of values will equality even find its true voice in the war between the sexes.

A lot of superstition and subsequent poor choices can change a person in a decade. It was only a few weeks ago I last threatened to leave the manor in hopes of reasserting myself as I used to be, but I am not the same flesh and bones I once was, and the chances my new independence would prove futile and result in an idiot’s folly are astronomically high.
I am not advocating the overthrow of anything. I simply know that what passes for love in this country is little more than mercantile power wearing a mask of fair weather friendship or lust. Those vows most mouth are garbage lines not worth the paper they are written on or the God they are supplicating. And lust if not outright ridiculed is still spoken of insincerely in most pseudoliberated circles propped up by double standards and power negotiations. So let's not be coy, sweet idealist. It's time to throw off the blinders, and realize that true equality between the sexes is a give and take scenario, and few are they who will find the path to this bliss we all seek.

Most will finally settle for a truce and whatever accommodations their current market value will warrant. I am fortunate my own loved one still finds a measure of grace in my own strengths, raw intelligence and wit. And I in her, her own steady delivery of goods and compassion for my weaknesses and my sense of purpose. Ours has nearly ceased as a sexual bond, but we freely and frequently commit to hugging often, an act Ann Landers would have us believe is the best love has to offer, and we suffer in each other's absence, so attached are we to each other. Because we have willingly accepted this state as a necessary compromise and sublimation to what we collectively can manage to squeeze from life, having failed at any number of dry nuances over the years, a truce has been settled upon us.

Most people find this sort of language an insult to their self-images, despite the self-deceiving accomplices to even more failure these images often play out to be. But you seem to recognize yourself at this juncture of life quite clearly, as I did ten years ago. A lot of superstition and subsequent poor choices can change a person in a decade. It was only a few weeks ago I last threatened to leave the manor in hopes of reasserting myself as I used to be, but I am not the same flesh and bones I once was, and the chances my new independence would prove futile and result in an idiot's folly are astronomically high.

My marriage while generally sexless (a decade of frustration leads to great changes in the heart, the mind, and the body) is certainly not loveless, and in our case, love and social stability won out over sex, although deficiencies in one area usually lead to excesses in others, and in my case, my appetite for food has not waned. Those who neither possess but over or under emphasize love, social stability, OR SEX, are given to great tragedy, and dangerous lives, although nothing I have written on this topic can resolve a damned thing in the world beyond my own need to articulate my innermost thoughts on the topic.

Yes Landry, sexuality is just another marketplace commodity. To deny this is to become an instant liar.

GT

Mom Said I Was No Henry Miller


19 Jul

henry-miller

Henry Miller Serenity

samplex

Date: Fri Jul 19, 1996 5:00:12 PM

À ma coquine jeune vixen Je...Je...Je..Jennifer,

The following is a note I just sent to my German penpal, Ben Voos. I have never met him personally, nor even seen a picture but our correspondence has been quite interesting over the past six months. We actually first became acquainted after I emailed him pontificating contrarily to something rather cynically rah rah he had to say about information and the Internet he'd published on a Geocities page. Actually it was a very short interrogatory he had posed. Not that I disagreed with him at face value. I merely suggested that the Internet, and more specifically the Web was NOT so much about the dissemination of information since so much of which passes for information is bogus anyway, but about the opportunity for the many to finally have a canvas upon which to dynamically create a presence herefor unavailable by force of numbers and positions and glory reserved for the Hollywood & New York sensationalist top-and-bottomfeeder types. Of course I was speaking specifically from my own perspective, although at the time, I had barely had my Internet account a few weeks—if I recall, my surfboard barely broken in. Since then, it has become painfully obvious that the corporate giants have rushed in and helped dwarf the "garage" artist once again, but I still maintain my original vision, where the idealistic individual is granted a greater control over artistic presentation via the web despite its flaws than ever before, and that's all the plumbing I need to appeal to me.

Yes, amazing! I was just thinking about you this morning, feeling guilty that I had not moved on some of the things I have promised you, like getting a German translator so that you could "go native" once in a while. Dumb American, that's me. I know I've not been sensitive to your translation struggles, raging on about this and that as if I were writing to myself, which of course I am, but you know what I mean. I had even lost track of who dashed off the last note, me or you? In good humor, it shouldn't matter. Your writing always intrigues me, and I simply love to find it in my mailbox, even under all these aliases, or rather friends, you steal in from nowhere every few months. Everytime I see that odd name in my box, I suspect, and am usually right that it is you, Ben, my friend across time and language. I feel that I haven't measured up to your expectations. I am always surprised when you seem to suggest otherwise.

I have been busy as God-on-uppers. I am currently writing what is turning into quite a long treatise on censorship and artistic integrity. As I said in my last note I am NOT a minimalist, although I often long for that rest, perhaps minimalism would bring to my increasingly stormy mind. I feel I have tumors, my head hurts in exactly the same spots as a few bumps I have sustained over the rough and tumble years on the back of my skull. Maybe I am simply inventing my illnesses, and just need more exercise, but I fear the worst nevertheless.

Speaking of God-on-uppers, I am not, not have I ever been a druggie by any means, occasionally diving into a month or so's worth of marijuana, a eight months to a year go by, and I smoke nothing until the next small amount of weed falls into my lap, but that's about it. Guzzle booze heavily one night a week or so, then nothing until the next one night stand seven to ten days down the road, although that ratio used to be every three days when I worked outdoors as a land surveyor in the war against the elements and caliber of crew when what I really wanted to do was create pages, mapping my thoughts, my crimes against self, and the renegotiating the penalties for making those choices and reducing those I never were even offered. What I once thought was a ball of twine I later lamented was instead a bowl of spaghetti. Never smoked cigarettes. Compulsive bad food addict and too much beer keeps me in gut and hell for nerves, but I never understood the angle in hard drugs.

Saw this 1979 Russian film with English subtitles the other day on cable called The Stalker. Have you seen it? I didn't see the very beginning but it was a most intriguing flick. I'll save any descriptions other than it centered around a mythical, mystical place called the Zone and three men including the guide, or stalker, who stumble around in this strange place seeking bestowal of its powers.

One of these days I suppose I will have enough of my WWW stuff in place to insist you to take a major browse, but I am still light years it seems from the body of work my own sensibilities require of me. Interesting how Geocities is coming along isn't it? Although my pages are still relatively primitive. Quite primitive. I have yet to compose my first image map.

Here's a ethical challenge you may find worth your while, or you may find it morally repugnant, politically exploitive, simply gross, but I would be interested in your opinions. I am considering hiring a prostitute in the near future for experimental video and clothing fetish purposes. And perhaps some light bondage. She will more than likely be a poor drug-infested African whore. I will pay here more in one session than she has probably seen from a single client in some time, according to my informer. I still have to formulate my full ideas, and am depending on this acquaintance of mine who is well-entrenched in this sort of streetwalker liaison to ease my initial mistrust in this sort of arrangement. I am doing this strictly from the video and photography perspective. This rather risky (in his own right) acquaintance wants the sex. I am not inclined. So, Ben, how do you interpret my motives? I may already have accomplished this transaction (but maybe not) by the time you are able to respond, but I am certainly interested in what you may have to say about this rather apprehensive affair.

miller

The writer as man

Mother was right, as only she could be. I was not Henry Miller, but there were many others who were not Henry Miller either, and since I never said I was Henry Miller, after doing the math necessary to free myself from yet another curse she uttered upon me and my future, I reckoned I was standing on the simple side of common sense, and Mother, well, she was just a Mother doing what Mothers do, at least some of them, enough of them to have become a literary caricature. And it is a well-known fact that Henry Miller had one of those Mothers, himself. Many of us do. Some more so than others.

Perhaps I write like a boy. Not a man. Is that so wrong when I live in an eight minute song, when my topographies grant no sea level, when I stand alone against the skyline and the mountain range with nary a falsifying woman to tell me who I am, what to do, and why I should do it, when I face the darkness with the unquenchable thirst for life, more life, and none comes but the same old pastures of many colors I left to those who promised they would tend them, so that they may prosper, yet I saw them not, but when I was a boy I had all these things, and among them was a sense of beauty for its own sake, investigation for its own sake, a unified field theory single file motive without fear or courage for marching to the cafeteria for the greater good, for getting along with everyone, not cheating anyone, exchanging whimsical tongues for logical ones, swapping those later for dangerous ones for the greater good...

Feminization? Militarism? Do you know the difference? Chauvinism? Barbarism? Do you take offense? Just bring me my meals, and take strong care of my feet. The rest will follow.

GT

Protected: And I Discovered That I Almost Left The Only Woman Left In Costume


18 Jul

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Fingers Of Low Resistance, Least Resistance, And No Resistance


11 Jul

Resistance

Resistance

samplex

Date: Wed Jul 11, 1996 3:04:06 PM

Not to beat a dead horse into dog food, Landry, but I am nevertheless still interested in digging deeper into this resistance topic, in exploring what you as a female writer deem appropriate sexual language and conduct, specifically at the social or public level. As a (willing/unwilling) member of the freelance pseudo-liberated Generation X think tank, how can we expect to defy this irrational political correctness now dominating the landscape, without bloodying the field, without ignoring the differences whereby how men and women perceive the sexual arena, and their respective roles within that arena, even as it appears that the gender roles continue to evolve? For despite my own mental gymnastics, I am somewhat of a prude in this matter, myself, and actually seek liberty from the constraints of my own background.

First a few definitions: pseudo-liberated. You touched on this concept by admitting your awareness of blatant contradictions in what your own spirit in liberty tells you versus what your reality-checking brain dutifully informs you is necessary to remain in control of what can soon degenerate into a chaotic and unrewarding sensual killing field if unchecked because of the very nature of individuality. The plain fact is that every person of every generation is genetically (both physically & psychologically) predisposed to a certain level of what passes in the popular mind as freedom and the lessening buffers to loose-lipped vulgarity.

This freedom is then tested in the sexual marketplace. Gains and losses accumulate. Winners, losers, predators, victims, survivors, casualties. That's the real dirt in the sex game. The sexual elite? Without too much rehashing of old literature we both know that one person's freedom is often another person's enslavement. Each camp seeks its own reflection in the mirror of its ideological yearnings. We each, male & female, across the entire corpus of human identities use different tools to plow the field, sow the seed, and harvest the fruit of our lusts and loves, fetishes and fixes. Individual tastes are formed by a complex matrix of genetics and environmental influences working within us at every turn.

The point is, they are strong sexual warriors with no pity for the serfs and only seek upward mobility, just as men do, and women always have, albeit in different mutations of the basic idea throughout generations and cultures.
Often over the course of a life we change to meet the ever-mutating challenges of sensuality and desire. Common sense and societal mores of the day often intrude upon what others might find more to their own liking, as common sense can often be as wrong as the public powers. Thus few of us can in truth boast that we are truly liberated simply because we do not know what it means to be liberated.

Classes who arguably at that point of sexual liberty live to pursue this sexual freedom to their own accumulative advantage while the many are still left to fend for themselves in the heat of the old torturous battles between moral agency and libertinism. Freedom or liberty in this case can only mean freedom of opportunity to succeed or fail at getting what we desire...

Great thinkers of antiquity, realizing this imbalance and opening for societal failure suggested suppression of the urges rather than chasing a false rainbow corrupting the loins with the tricks of envy and abuse, forced by success and especially, persistent failure. Failure is disease, disease is failure. I observe women with their hypertextual sense of liberal guilt for the masses rarely take pity on hordes of men delegated by natural order to mere pawns of the sexual princes and princesses ruling the sexual arena. But consistent with their incumbent sexual and business tools, battle plans, and gains to be made, they are often cold taskmasters, subtle manipulators, starving their opponents and thwarting their competition by any means necessary in order to control the field. The point is, they are strong sexual warriors with no pity for the serfs and only seek upward mobility, just as men do, and women always have, albeit in different mutations of the basic idea throughout generations and cultures.

Because we have willingly accepted this bartered state as a necessary compromise to what we collectively can manage to squeeze from life, having failed at any number of dry nuances over the years, a truce has settled upon us.
I realize many of the above statements can and will infuriate many a feminine perspective. None of my postulates are meant to pacify female anger for the brutality men have set upon them throughout history. I am grievously sick with self-loathing turned against the gender sporting cock, balls, upper body strength, and this so-called social power everyone in the PC generation is always raving about. Pure madness.

But finally after 32 or 33 years of apotheosizing the feminine component of humanity, and weaned from this generalized self-loathing by the redemptive notions of writer Camille Paglia, I am equally stricken with a loathing that spreads out beyond that primitive misogyny men are often accused of, often rightfully so, to encompass my own effeminate strains the radical feminists carp so much about when lacking a fair shade of the same themselves. We all need to face a few facts. Few of us are ever given a fair shake. Male or female. Games are played with romantically inclined lies in the name of spectacular truth. Only once this false game of shadows and overwrought sentimentality has been diminished and replaced with a more intrinsic set of values will equality even find its true voice in the war between the sexes.

It was only a few weeks ago I last threatened another Tolstoy—to leave the manor in hopes of reasserting myself as I used to be, as I want to be, but I am not the same flesh and bones I once was, and the chances my new independence would prove futile and an idiot's folly are astronomically high.
I am not advocating the overthrow of anything. I simply know that what passes for love in this country is little more than mercantile power wearing a mask of fair weather friendship, lust, or loosely formed business arrangements. Those vows most mouth are garbage lines not worth the paper they are written on or the God they are supposedly supplicating. And lust if not outright ridiculed is still spoken of insincerely in most pseudo-liberated circles propped up by double standards and power negotiations. So let's not be coy, sweet idealists. It's time to throw off the blinders, and realize that true equality between the sexes is a war of give and take...

Most will finally settle for a truce and whatever accommodations their current market value will warrant. I am fortunate my own loved one still finds a measure of grace in my own strengths, raw intelligence and wit. And I in her, her own steady delivery of basic goods and compassion for my weaknesses in return for the strengths I bring which have nothing to do with sexual etiquette. Ours has nearly ceased as a sexual bond, but we freely and frequently commit to hugging often, an act Ann Landers would have us believe is the best love has to offer, and we suffer in each other's absence, so attached are we to each other. Because we have willingly accepted this bartered state as a necessary compromise to what we collectively can manage to squeeze from life, having failed at any number of dry nuances over the years, a truce has settled upon us. The presence and care of children should, but sadly do not often enough, deepen those mutually accommodating bonds of any union.

Too many people possessing usually fine minds find this sort of language an insult to their self-images, despite even more failure these self-images often play out to be.

But you seem to recognize yourself at this juncture of life quite clearly, as I did ten years ago. A lot of superstition and subsequent poor choices can change a person in a decade. It was only a few weeks ago I last threatened another Tolstoy—to leave the manor in hopes of reasserting myself as I used to be, as I want to be, but I am not the same flesh and bones I once was, and the chances my new independence would prove futile and an idiot's folly are astronomically high. My marriage while generally sexless (a decade of frustration leads to great changes in the heart, the mind, and the body) is certainly not loveless, and in our case, love and social stability won out over sex. Those who neither possess but over or under emphasize love, social stability, OR SEX, are given to great tragedy, and dangerous lives, although nothing I have written on this topic can resolve a damned thing in the world beyond my own need to articulate my innermost thoughts on the topic.

I don't think this letter is very well written but breaking into the breeze, my friends, go the three fickle fingers of low resistance, least resistance and no resistance at all.

GT

The Price Of Hurling Stones, Tomatoes, and Sex Toys Into The Past


28 May

cadence

The Cadence

samplex

Date: Tue, 28 May 1996 16:26:35
From: Lynn Landry

More interesting than getting drunk with a friend and having sex, is getting drunk years later and talking about it. Or dancing around the issue. OR starting and stopping. Having a past is SO MUCH FUN.

Gabriel, my friend Rob is having a Babyhead film festival at the Biograph on Saturday, June 1. He showing a few different videos. Two have me in them and it could be so embarassing, I may never enter the eastern time zone again. I don't have all the details, but I think it being shown around 9 or 10 pm. I will find out and let you and Sue know so you can heckle me.

Landry

S A M P L E X

"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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