Got a call from Michael Thorn the other day asking if I could talk to him about an article he was writing. I figured I could swing by after work about 6 and be at the Avatar meeting around 8. Well I got home around 12:30, never made it to the meeting, and my goddamn ass is still sore from sitting in the same fucking chair for 6 hours.
Here are a few things I realized:
1) Talking to Michael is like talking to Robinson Carusoe must have been after he got rescued from the damn island. He has been isolated in front of his computer for so long that when he has a live person there he talks. A
2) He is a GREAT story teller. He not only had a lot of experiences, he was paying attention when he had them. Every now and then he will say: “let me see if I can tell this right”. He usually does
3) He is deeply passionate about our community.
4) He has a magazine and he is not afraid to use it.
And lastly……
5) I couldn’t sleep when I got home because the conversation fucked with my brain.
You and I have talked about the deleterious impact the dinosaurs are having on things that we care about. I think I realized after last night that it is far worse than anything I ever imagined. At one point, we looked on-line at a picture of the Satyrs. I have been to Badger Flats. I was young and those guys kinda scared me. They ALL had 12 inch dicks, and big hairy balls that hung to their knees. They used to be hot, horny fuckers who were famous for being hot, horny fuckers. The picture of the club on their web-site was haunting. The guys in the front row had canes and walkers. Their website was never going to attract anyone let alone somebody who might actually be looking to find out about them ‘cuz they were fun. When Thorn showed it to me, I didn’t realize the impact it would have. BUT ALL NIGHT LONG, I kept thinking about that damn picture. It woke me up over and over. At first, I thought it was just because every organization I to which I belong has dorky website. NONE of them are really hot. NONE!!! I have seen hot websites and these ain’t them. BUT FINALLY I realized it was because I was a lot closer to BEING those old geezers that I wanted to admit. I realized I was already starting to act like them. I realized that some of these old guys are planning to take their clubs with them when they die and and trying to take me along. And…..like a dolt, I am gladly getting on-board the sinking ship because they are going to call me the captain and let me ring the ship’s bell as we slip beneath the water.
It became clear to me that there are guys out there who are looking for the stuff we have. They want to know how to fist, and flog, and fuck. They are young and they are looking. Because we have abdicated our responsibility to mentor, they are being drawn in by the guys we have already rejected as being dangerous or fucked up. If I was one of them I would be pissed. When did we let the guys from the “island of misfit toys” (Thorn’s term and I like it) take over? The problem, is that he has a fucking magazine and he is willing to point out just how fucked up some of this shit really is. What will happen when he warns that “next generation” that the old clubs are unsafe, or not honest, or just not any fun. Oh we will fuss and fume, but he will be right and the smart kids will know he is right and they will just walk on by. The dinosaurs will sit in a fucking circle trying find their withered up little dicks and cry that nobody has joined them in the last few years and their clubs are dying just as fast as they are. BUT it will be because those nasty boys said mean things about them.
Dave keeps asking why he should wear the damn shirt. I like that metaphor. What fucking good does it do me to be part of something that thinks the most important thing they can spent time doing is talk about “How to pick up deaf guys”. Ya know some of the hottest leather sex has pretty much universal signs. If you can’t play without talking maybe it is because you have been doing too many fucking “demos” (please be sure to pronounce the word “demos” with dripping disdain). Otherwise “get a fucking book on signing…..there can we go to the bar now” One of the tag lines was that in 25 years we have never done this presentation. Did anyone point out that it might just be because it was a brain numbingly stupid idea? Dave seems to be asking: “How will being a member allow me to teach some new kid interested in fisting to do it without getting hurt or even killed?” I have seen him mentor. It is the very embodiment of how I learned. I wasn’t “taught”. I was shown, corrected, guided and when I started to fuck up I was told to stop. I was mentored by men that cared about ME not about their “demo audience”. If I fucked up, they looked bad. I knew that and made sure not to fuck up. Why is it that we are so scared to MENTOR? What is the fucking attraction to “teaching”?
Somewhere in during my restless night, I realized that we listened to all the whiny bitchy queens telling us what we couldn’t do for so long that we got blue balls and rather than fucking our way to feeling better we just cut our balls off. What really scared me was that I realized I came late to this process, but that it was powerful enough to grab a hold of me and pull me right on in with the rest of the eunuchs. There I was listening to this crazy “instigator” and hearing this tiny little voice in my head saying “you can’t do that”, “we have to be careful”, “oh but what about the children” (okay that last one was from the Simpsons). THAT’s what was keeping me up. That skinny little pig fucker had gotten into my head and asked me the really fucked up question….”So whataya gonna do old man?”
He actually said at one point that if something doesn’t change, these old guy’s lives will be irrelevant. All their legacy will disappear and they will be forgotten. I knew he was right….it just took a while to realize he was right about ME. He will leave behind copies of his magazine covered in splooge, I will leave behind meeting agendas and minutes covered in dust.
Sooooooo…..I guess what I realized is that I am in. Yep I am in. I want to leave behind something more than meeting minutes I want to be able to say that when I was in positions of leadership something really substantive happened. That it made a difference…that I made a difference…that WE made a difference. That we had a vision of what we could do and actually did it. WE learned from our elders and honored them and then when the got too old we set them on an ice flow and shoved off to oblivion. We were gonna eat ‘em but the bastards are too stringy
Well sweet puppy-fucking jeesus. I thought I was going to relax this weekend but now I see that I am going to be thinking. FUCK YOU MICHAEL THORN!!!! Son of a bitch, get into my head will you. You better be careful I might actually DO something. Shit!!! Now I have to pack all the floggers, single tails, and other toys and my fucking lap top.
OH by the way, you are not off the hook dear. I recognize your fingers in all of this. See you this weekend.
