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You, who has constructed your own hyper-specific vocabulary in order to be understood: How do you interact with a world that seems to turn this skill against you?
If language is a game, I make them follow my rules.
If language is a poison, I poison them right back.
If language is emotion, I express myself in symbols.
A 70 year old man came to see me. He asked me to lingeringly kiss the nape of his neck. He said that's all he wanted. I asked why. He said that when he was still a teenager, when Japan was still embroiled in the Pacific War, all of his friends kept being recruited. He too was up for enlistment. And the one thing that kept him going during the grueling training that they went through to prepare for battle was the kindness of one of his superiors, a boy seven years older than he, who had looked after him. Then, one day, this older boy asked him if he could come to his room. When he arrived, the older boy said "Tomorrow I'm being sent to the front. I may never return. I have one last thing to ask of you." He wanted to spend the night together. He hadn't wanted sex (in a narrow sense) as one might imagine. The boy had simply held him in his arms all night long, caressing his neck with his lips. The older boy never did return. And ever since, this old man had kept the memory of this night, and the warmth and touch of this boy's lips on his neck. Even as he grew older, even through his marriage, he had kept coming to boys like me, to relive this memory.
Old man, were my lips warm like his?
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I love your art! It’s gorgeous and speaks to me on so many levels. I was just wondering as to how you and kissaubleu met? Both of you are so talented and I really enjoy both of your work!
Thank you! That's very kind.
We met via an anonymous message he sent through my website. It was something I found particularly insightful and understanding, so I asked publicly if the anonymous messenger would like to email me. Over the course of six or so months we sent each other a total of 282 emails, all around 3 pages in length. Then we switched to discord and finally "real life".
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An incredible find from a store running out of a series of abandoned airplane hangars: Lois’s summer travel journals ranging from the late 1970s through the 1990s. She almost exclusively took bus tours and, as an elementary school teacher, tended to favor historical locations. These albums contain everything from her bus passes and bills, to brochures and menus, to pictures of anything she felt was important (including photos each bus driver labeled with their name).
Here is just one of her documented experiences: the tour bus guide on this particular trip, Audrey, staged a hijacking as well as her own arrest for drug smuggling. Lois doesn’t explain how she felt about the gag beyond remarking that it “seemed so real”.
Transcription:
Saturday-- August 12, 1988--
Up at 7:30 and had bags out at 8:30 and ready to leave Nashville.
We went to Fountains Square where we were to do some shopping and have lunch and leave at 1:00. What a boomer? The shopping center was dead. No real good place to shop or eat. It was a beautiful place built on the water front, but no place for tourists to shop. They did have plaques of the Country Music Stars handprints. We had to wait 1 hour for the driver to come back and get us. Some people were very upset-- OH, Well.
We left there and went back to Nashville. We ate at Shoney’s, across the street on Music City Row. We had 2 hrs. so some of us ate the breakfast buffet, because we had not eaten breakfast. That was quick, so we had 1 ½ hrs. to shop. Really enjoyed that. Went in or by some of the shops-- Ernest Tubbs Record Shop, Hank Williams Shop and Museum, Elvis Presley’s Shop, Conway Twitties’ Shop, Alabama’s Shop and several gift and souvenir shops.
Left there at 1 P.M. on the way back toward home.
Came back down Interstate 40, past the Central State Time Zone. (Turned our watches up an hour.) Headed on toward Morristown. The driver made a wrong turn and stopped to call for directions. Made a rest stop along the way and then made the turn near the Ramada Inn where we were to stay. We heard this siren and was pulled over by the Sheriff. We wondered what had happened. When the Sheriff and his Deputy got on the bus, they had a “Wanted Poster” of our escort (Audrey ***). She was wanted for smuggling drugs and disorderly conduct.
They looked and acted so real that we thought something had really happened. They had toy guns and the Sheriff took Audrey to the Patrol Car and the Deputy ordered the driver to drive down the road. When we got around the bend, she (the Deputy) told him to pull into the Park. There the Ramada Inn Staff had set up a “Welcome” snack for us. Punch, dip, chips, vegetables and crackers.
It was all a gag, but it seemed so real.
We then went on to the Ramada in for dinner and the night. The meal was-- Clam Chowder, salad bar, marinated chicken breasts, baked potato, rolls and tea. Pie for dessert, but I didn’t get any. I was too full.
Went into the lobby and one of the ladies played the piano and we all sat around for a while and then retired to our rooms. Watched Nashville on TV. Took a shower and got ready for bed.
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