Author Archive

Candidiana

March 30, 2025

Penultimate March, and today’s song from Candide is Cunegonde’s aria “Glitter and be gay” (from Act 1, right before “You were dead, you know”, the title subject of my 3/27 posting on this blog), in which she confronts her, um, suitors with the defiant quatrain:

Enough! Enough!
I’ll take their diamond necklace
And show my noble stuff
By being gay and reckless!

(Oh, honey, I am so with you!)

Candide is a remarkable theater piece that provides almost as many quotations suitable for random occasions as the Alice books, but with a sensibility that is some sort of compound of Voltaire’s satirical novella and the New York City intellectual and artistic world of the 1950s. But it works.

Now: the work, my 3/27 posting, and two responses from old friends about the show.

(more…)

Misleading

March 29, 2025

My note on Facebook on 3/26 about one small point in the Signal Chat affair:

Listening fairly carefully to testimony yesterday in the Signal fiasco, I realized that some of those questioned were not only dodging questions and not recalling stuff but also framing answers so that they were (arguably) accurate, but only with the wording understood in a particular technical way. So that they said there were no war plans — because the plans were, technically, attack plans, not war plans. And that there was no classified intelligence — because the classified information was, technically, plans, not intelligence.

It reminded me of a ritual performed by a Muslim friend at a wonderful dinner at Ann and Bonnie’s in Princeton some 65 years ago (Eqbal and Ann are long dead, but Bonnie in Colorado and I in California squeak by), during which glasses of excellent wine were poured. Eqbal took a napkin, dipped a finger in his wine and flicked a drop of wine onto the napkin, then raised his glass and led a toast to Ann. A while later, we asked him what the flicking was about.

“Oh”, he explained, “the Qur’an teaches us: Thou shalt not drink one drop of wine. I was merely obeying the injunction”.

(more…)

GBTQ guys

March 28, 2025

[In this posting, among many other things, sex between men discussed in street language, so not suitable for kids or the sexually modest]

The background is complex. From 3/26, in my posting “A gay life”:

A re-play of some material about my first male lover, Larry [Schourup], as background for two other postings: one about him right now (well, as of yesterday); and one about GBTQ guys and how they fold their sexual desires, practices, and identifications into lives of accomplishment, as Larry has done — and as the linguist Aaron Broadwell (celebrated in the second posting) has done.

But then my attention was diverted by the firehose of appalling actions by my government, so that I wrote on 3/27, in my posting “You were dead, you know”:

My intention was talk about integrating sexual lives, relationships, and identities with lives of accomplishment (like LS’s teaching and published research in linguistics) and value, with a bow to the poet Frank O’Hara (who LS introduced me to many years ago … [but] I’ve trimmed this post down to its other aim, which is to report on the last year or so of the LS/AZ correspondence

culminating in the joyous discovery that, contrary to my fears, LS had not died, hence the Candide quote in the title of that posting.

But now to start that first posting, of two, all over again, with material from my 3/1/24 posting “The grace of lovers”:

(more…)

You were dead, you know

March 27, 2025

The first follow-up to my posting yesterday “A gay life”, which had material about my first male lover, Larry Schourup, from earlier postings of mine. About 55 years of the loving friendship that succeeded our original relationship, a lifelong conversation carried on through enormous changes in our lives. LS ended up in Japan, with a long-time Japanese partner, Isao; they had to conceal their homosexuality and their relationship for many years, until recently it became possible for them to live openly, and to apply for domestic partnership in Kyoto (which I now have learned was granted on 5/29/24, wonderful thing).

My intention was talk about integrating sexual lives, relationships, and identities with lives of accomplishment (like LS’s teaching and published research in linguistics) and value, with a bow to the poet Frank O’Hara (who LS introduced me to many years ago). I am, however, overwhelmed by the firehouse of fascism being sprayed on a daily basis by the overlords in my country, which needs a variety of responses, all of which take time — so I’ve trimmed this post down to its other aim, which is to report on the last year or so of the LS/AZ correspondence.

(more…)

Yesterday’s news from my house

March 26, 2025

Yesterday morning was bright and warm.  But the weather report said that in a day it would get cooler and then there would be several days of rain. Meanwhile, I had garden work — mostly, edging the garden strip to cut back the ivy sprawling from the strip onto the patio, which it clearly intended to vanquish — that I’d put off for weeks because of earlier rains, so this was my chance to clean things up.

It’s hard work for someone with my disabilities who gets around with a walker. A heavy long-handled lopper is involved, also a clever long-handled grabber tool to pick up the clipped stems and leaves and put them into a plastic bucket (so that I can take them inside to very slowly and methodically use sharp-edged hand tools to reduce them to short bits of stuff usable as compost back on the garden strip). The ivy trimming is demanding, sweaty work, but satisfying because the result is a handsome garden and then, eventually, a pile of excellent compost. But there’s a nice rhythm to the labor — and it sets my mind free to wander on other things, like the postings I’m always composing.

Very quickly I realized that it was in fact blazing hot — 85F, high-summer-hot — so I speeded up, and  got considerably less fastidious as I worked along the strip. Retreated inside the house, did my slicing and chopping until I had a pile of compost bits.

By then my caregiver J had arrived. I gave him the bucket of bits to distribute in the garden, he came back to quiz me about my medical state. Looked anxiously at me, because I was flushed and speaking slowly, but he went on to ask some general medical questions. He asked if I’d weighed myself, adding that he’d seen in the bathroom the … umm … what do you call that in English? And I couldn’t think of the word. I went on haltingly to explain that I was having trouble finding the word, but not to worry, this was normal, I was just hot and tired, I wasn’t having a … what do you call it when you get a blood clot in the brain? or even that thing that Jacques had when he suddenly couldn’t talk or walk, it has a name with letters and another long technical name.

I know, I know, not being able to find words for not being able to find words.

(more…)

A gay life

March 26, 2025

A re-play of some material about my first male lover, Larry, as background for two other postings: one about him right now (well, as of yesterday); and one about GBTQ guys and how they fold their sexual desires, practices, and identifications into lives of accomplishment, as Larry has done — and as the linguist Aaron Broadwell (celebrated in the second posting) has done.

(more…)

Streets of Genui Neska

March 25, 2025

On Facebook on 3/23, Mike Pope passed along this book cover (from Raspberry Bow Press in 2024):


MP: Someone thought this was a good design for a book title

I had an immediate response:

(more…)

DEI t-shirts

March 24, 2025

[Sexual acts discussed in street language, so not suitable for kids or the sexually modest]

No, not like my excellent TeePublic DEI t-shirt —


(#1) A shout-out for diversity, equity, and inclusion

but a different sort of DEI t-shirt, one with a double entendre invoked on it, like this one in my 3/22 posting “Put a red apple in that mouth”:


(#2) A Double Entendre Invoking t-shirt: the slogan I like it spit roasted with the outline of a pig: innocently claiming that the wearer likes — that is, likes to eat — spit-roasted pork (with it referring to pig / pork); but raunchily suggesting the sexual act of spitroasting, conveying that the wearer likes — that is, likes to experience — that sexual act (with it referring to the activity), much like saying I like it bareback

(more…)

Good morning, good morning

March 23, 2025

I woke at 3:30 am, after 8 hours of good sleep, to the sound of Scott Ross playing Soler keyboard music on his power harpsichord — the Fandango and an assortment of sonatas — which filled me with delight and promised a good day to come. Eventually I worked my way to my computer, and found one odd surprise and one very sorrowful one.

(more…)

In memoriam Dennis Lewis

March 23, 2025

[This posting will eventually turn to sexual matters for which the F-word seems to be indispensable; this content is not suitable for children or the sexually modest]

From 2/14 on Facebook, from Leland Wykoff, passed on to soc.motss-folk by Ellen Evans yesterday:


[AZ:] Dennis Sullivan Lewis, Jr. born 7/11/1956 in Jefferson, Ashe County NC to Dennis Sullivan Lewis and Georgia Mae Miller (data thanks to Ann Burlingham); Dennis was a frequent contributor to the soc.motss group and also a frequent participant in the annual motss.cons over the years (including 2017, here in Palo Alto)

[LW:] Sadly, I must report Dennis Lewis has died [AZ: on 2/3; thank you for the date, Chris Ambidge].  Dennis was a good friend and will be missed by so many in life and on Facebook.

[He] had many interests:  organ concerts, live theatre, music, ghost hunting, media, and, of course, TV shows and movies.

… Dennis passed at home peacefully in his sleep.  [He] had moved to Jacksonville decades ago to work for the Florida Times Union newspaper, which was a positive and upward career move.  Following his tenure at the Times Union [he] began working on grants for higher education in Florida.  A position he held for over 25 years.

Dennis was an alumni of Lipscomb University [AZ: a private Christian college in Nashville TN; Dennis was also serious about his Christian beliefs], where he excelled in his studies.  Dennis had love affairs with his cars: a Cadillac Cimarron, his current Buick, and the trustworthy Ford Taurus. [He] enjoyed trains, subways, and streetcars.

I responded on Facebook:

— AZ: A shock indeed. Dennis was genuinely sweet and astonishingly open in his enthusiasms, which embraced trains, organ music, movies, and gay sex hotels. And just investigating new places [most often throughout the southeast US, but also all the way to Wales] and telling us about them, in minute detail. I will miss seeing things through his eyes. (Then, purely selfishly, I’ll miss Dennis because he was one of the most faithful readers of my blog, often the first person to note my postings. And yes, I did thank him for that.)

And then Troy Allen picked up on the fourth item, gay sex hotels, on my short list of DL’s enthusiasms:

— TA > AZ: His Parliament House tales were legendary.

Parliament House in Augusta GA bills itself as a “men’s resort” (“an all-male, clothing-optional retreat offering a welcoming space for the LGBTQIA+ community”). Similarly for Parliament House in Orlando FL; from my 2/20/20 posting “love nest”:

[El Nido is] a love hotel — where love is a more decorous way of referring to sweaty sex; such places are sometimes bluntly referred to as fuck hotels.

… The places often have bland names, inconspicuous entrances, and few if any windows. Gay sex hotels, on the other hand, are often open and celebratory about their function. Some are managed as resorts; of these, probably the most famous in the US is the Parliament House in Orlando FL — a fuck hotel resort with drag shows and a celebrated gay bar. [3/2025: it’s currently closed.]