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1. NICE MEN a prose-poem by
There are
places I have been. Some were nice places full of nice people, some of the nice people were nice men, rugged and gentle and some of the nice men were nice to me and I was nice to some of the nice men and some of the nice men were not handsome. Some were more interesting than handsome, some were more interesting than nice, some of the nice men said nice things but didn't say anything interesting and some of the interesting men weren't very nice but I forgave them for not being very nice because they were interesting and they were only to be interesting for one night. Some of the interesting men were interested only in my arse and if they were interesting enough I would let them have it. Some interesting men wanted my arse and didn't get it: I got theirs. And some interesting men telephoned me later in the week to ask if we could do something interesting and sometimes it wasn't as interesting as the first time. Times are like that, variable, like being fucked depends on how nice it is being worked up to it and not just how one's arse is being ploughed, like it's nice to turn over and change over and it's nice to kiss and hug before a parting and it's nice to want another call. Some nice men like
to be fucked, they stand in semi-private places, waiting, they
wait standing semi-erect for a nice man, sometimes a nice man
comes along, only he thinks the man next to him isn't very nice
and walks out without a flash. Sometimes a not-so-nice man walks
in and you nod and stretch a hand out to play with his cock, sometimes
he has a nice, interesting cock which makes up for him being not
so very nice, and sometimes he is rough and ready, and sometimes
you worry and sometimes when you get back to his place he wants
you to strap him and you oblige because you want to give him a
nice time and afterwards, he wants you to fuck him, sometimes
he wants to come over your cock and because he has a nice cock,
you let him. Sometimes he smells of manhood sometimes a couple
days of hard work has made his armpits interesting, sometimes
it's balls, arse and toes and it's a turn-on. Sometimes a nice
man wears deodorant and the nice man underneath isn't there. Sometimes
an interesting man who is also nice wants you to do things you
haven't done before and sometimes you are interested and say Yes
and sometimes you say It's not your thing. Sometimes a nice man
is not so young. Sometimes you find out he's accident-prone and
scarred and sometimes you don't have to feel sorry to give him
a nice time because he turns you on, anyway, and anyway he wants
it, you want it and
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2. SUICIDE
OF AN ALIEN
a confession by
Blaidd MacIntyre
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Yes, I am an alien. But not an alien to the
planet. I have no idea who my father was, and I had and have no interest in finding out. My mother was so traumatised that she could not mention, much less discuss, it. He might have been her Canadian cousin. I keep my distance from human-beings. They have a horrible tendency to get close to each other in order to suck out or oppress each other more successfully. I do not understand the drivenness, meddlesomeness, hypocrisy, tunnel-vision, optimism, sentimentality and emotional stupidity of humans, nor their refusal to use reason except when it suits their cruelty and greed. I do not understand why they invented gods, religion, 'spirituality', 'progress', prostitution, 'normality', 'love' and so on - unless to compensate for the incomprehensible hate they have for 'nature'. And why do they sacrifice content to form ? And why is the only irrational and gratuitiously-nasty creature the one to invent Reason and altruism ? I hate their indistinguishable groups and teams, tribes and nations; I have never joined any of these voluntarily - except Amnesty International from which I soon escaped. Human life does nobody any good. I never wanted to marry a human. I had myself sterilised. Sex with humans makes me feel even more remote and bereft. I understand why prostitutes have to take substances - cocaine, amphetamines, or glue - in order to perform. Everything human is horrible. It took me twenty years to understand that I was not attracted to women, then a further twenty years to realise that I was attracted to men only æsthetically, in the same way that I am attracted to most mammals, trees and smells. Being too 'holy' for prostitution, I can't offer myself as the figurehead of a new mad American Church of the Holy Alien. So I'm standing in the thicket-acre which I bought as a tiny place to keep free of humans who have alienated themselves from life and the planet: a sanctuary for badgers, brambles, foxes, birds - and an alien: I shall feed them all in this my burial-ground. Here is the air-tight body-bag.
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