for Jane,
for my sisters

Jules International
1997

The WWW Edition
1998

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ritual we were talking about and how to build it by Willow's word bioregionalism, just to say in the time and place of where we are, who we are; ritual that speaks to our personal histories and personal needs when we haven't grown up together, haven't lived next to each other, haven't seen the same tree grow twenty years older, yet somehow we have to acknowledge us all together here now - common ground for us to share; going on the search, finding it, building it, creating it out of a common need. Where is the ritual: the ritual follows the flow of individual and group seeking form. In the laughter in the party in the harvest in the bounty feel the bounty touch it, something tangible like a paper towel, this is the bounty, so feel it and be moved, follow the metaphor as it spins wildly like a dervish on a mission, the dancing light of the pen tip in the candlelight, the glow of the flashlight in the darkening land, the dance of flame, the rhythm of music, the touching of old archetypes within new forms like Olga and Oofdah; they are reborn as fresh figures, and somehow this ameliorates the pain of loss, this is gone but something new and different but somehow renewed is here to take its place; our renewable resource, innocence, creativity, the ability to open our hearts, becomes boundlessly renewable, a wellspring of talent that is put in to ourselves, put forth for the purpose of nurturing ourselves. Giving to our fellow travellers, here - I have made this night for you, in our world it is laughing and bright, we sing and dance, for what is the rain but a chance for us to commune somewhere dry. We cannot stop the rain but we can transcend it for a while.

it had stopped raining when we crawled out of the sweat into the larger cave of stars. Up the hill in the open meadow, lips locked, he climbed into my arms, wrapped his legs around my waist. We laid in the cold wet Spring grass

- Do that again. I kissed you on the eye lid, brow; with lips, pulled gently your lashes. You laughed. - I always knew having sex with you would be fun.

"Il est beau ton zizi."

a little glazed around the eyes woozy from the heat and the storm and the lack of sleep and the pressure of taking on a whole meal for 25 and what the hell in the rain there won't be much else to do so it better be fucking good these boys want to be entertained

Handsome hand, versatile, verit'ble jack-of-all-trades, master of one.

Sometimes it's the simplest things, like someone trusting you enough to tell you some little personal thing about how they're feeling that makes all the difference, a way of saying "I feel safe with you", we're friends, I need someone to tell these things to and I'm glad it's you. Not that we don't joke about things, get a little competitive with the giving, like this fabulous meal is mine, and even then the rewards come from such unexpected places, like everyone just assuming that you're competent to do the job, trusting your skills to get the job done properly when you didn't even know yourself you could do it, they know they just know, it brings tears to the eyes it really does, and now this sky pummelling down, bits of mist insinuating themselves through the tent wall, the drum of the rain, almost angry and the flashes of lightning, dramatic claps of thunder to say something like judgement. The water runs down the sides like overactive sperm, all pent up, the release a flood like in a circle that feels like it's waited too long to happen.