Thursday morn

Thoreau, Herman Melville, indian mounds, those burial grounds, the only good indian is a dead indian. Love it or leave it and I'm still here. Melville starts Moby Dick with "Call me Ishmael", not "Fuck you I'm Ahab." Ishmael, the lover, survives. As do I. I first read Moby Dick as a child. I thought it a great sea adventure. I held on to the picture of a coffin turned life buoy. I thought it spoked with screen door springs. Reading the novel later, as an old salt, I thought Ishmael homosexual, a straight sailor's joke to other sailors. Although I have loved four men, two of them gay. I never had sex with any of them. I never wanted sex with any of them. They didn't atrack me in that way.

Sex and drugs and rock and roll. Met Jose in the elevator going to breakfast. He is the most natural clown I've ever met. He took too much Viagra once and his "it" wouldn't go down. He told the desk clerk to call 911. The cops came. It was their first case of Viagra misuse. They didn't really know what to say. I think one of the cops said Jose had a real problem. Before my special woman friend, my big love was a man. He was everything my father was not. He was gay. I am not even bisexual. Enough. I rest. Fear is the basis of my illness.