Bisquiat

THE TRICKSTER 

“Esu is a trickster, critic,
interpreter, translator
messenger of the gods,
and is often pictured
with two mouths and
an erect penis”
—Alden Reimonenq
Hoodoo Headrag

I got off feeling him lose it—
Losing it, oozing it, shooting it really bad

That’s when Esu rode him like a horse—
The Undead rushing in all around us

The Voodoo drums in the cane moonlite—
That’s where I Sucked Off my Zombie

Darby Jones standing there guarding the—
Crossroads nude Carrefour Haitian stud

Jacques Tourneur the director translating—
Carib modern myth into Zombie Love 

Esu took over and became the moment—
Two mouths and his spaz ten inch penis

Voodoo Créole Cajun Hoodoo cums—
Slow sluggish stealthy stillborn Snakehood

Shango Loas jizzing great male power—
Joined by Ogoun and Simba once again

Ifa holy Yoruba text flowing through me—
Dialog of Toxophilus and Philologus

Nothing that is so is ever so again—
That’s the way is, that’s the way it was*
____________________

*from Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night:

BIG EASY BOYFRIEND 

—for Andrei Codrescu 

His soul-seed came awfully hard—
Shooting the back of my head off

He made me swallow every drop—
Something his girlfriend wouldn’t do

His stiff Créole cock a snake with—
A forked tongue that got my tonsils

I gagged and it turned him on—
Choking me to death with his load

He called me her name and groaned—
I milked every fucking Zimbabwe drop

He came harder the second time—
He was so loaded he almost fainted

Watching him shudder made me weak—
His water moccasin cum tasted awful

How could such a handsome teen stud—
Make me wanna crave his Shango cum?

VOODOO MYSTERIES 

—for Alden Reimonenq 

New Orleans is a rotting city—
It’s been rotting away for centuries

An ancient tired old seaport—
Down by my murky Gulf of Mexico

Katrina was nothing new—
The city’s been dying for years

Hurricanes & floods come & go—
But decadent depravity flourishes

You can smell the rotting death—
For miles downwind at night

You can smell the stench of evil—
Cane, rum and black slavery

Créoles from Haiti & Guadalupe—
Their loa-languishing loins

Ibo, Congo, Nago black cock—
My mulatto mother’s complexion

My delta dinge dick her gift—
Reminding me of my divinity

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erbfZKct8QE 

ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK REDUX

"Everyone's Coming To New York" is the song being sung at the stage show where Snake first meets Cabbie. The lyrics are as follows: 

Shoot a cop/

With a gun/

The Big Apple is plenty of fun/

Stab a priest/

With a fork/

And you'll spend your vacation in New York/ 

Rob a bank/

Take a truck/

You can get here by stealing a buck/

This is bliss/

It's a lark/

Honey, everyone's coming to New York!/

No more Yankees/

Strike the word from your ears/

Play the roulette/

There's no more opera at the Met/

This is hell/

This is fate/

But now this is your home and it's great/

So rejoice/

Pop a cork

Honey, everyone's coming to New York!

ESCAPE FROM L.A.

Hauk: Plissken? Plissken, what are you doing? 
Snake Plissken: Playing with myself! I'm going in.
_______________________

In 2013, the crime rate in the United States rises one thousand percent. The once great city of Los Angeles has become the whole country. 
____________________

A fifty-foot containment wall is erected along the Mexican borderline from the Gulf to the Pacific. The same with the Canadian borderline, across the Great Lakes, all the way from the Atlantic to Alaska. 
_____________________

The wall completely surrounds USA Prison. Every square mile is saturated with 24-hour drone surveillance with orders to terminate. 
______________________

The United States Police Force, like an army, is encamped offshore guarding the undersea bunkers of the banksters and gangsters. 
__________________

There are no guards inside the prison— only the prisoners of the Prison Planet. The rules are simple: once you’re born there—you don't come out.
_________________________

Snake is back

ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK 

“We’re gonna have their best man
leading the way from the head up—
on the hood of my car!!!”
—Isaac Hayes the Duke
______________________

Snake Plissken—
With his big black tattoo

Stretchin’ from his dick—
Up past his bellybutton

He had the killer instinct—
Of his fighter pilot father
_________________________

The hot-bloodedness of his—
Redhead mulatto mother

Clothe it in drag, you get—
Haughty haute couture

No Escape from New York—
Not for Snake Plissken
______________________

Ravaged by crime—
All of Manhattan Island

“Once you go in—
You don’t get out”

No turning back once—
They dump you inside
__________________

Snake ends up at the Olde—
Manhattan Musical Review

Burned-out old Fox Theater—
Doing drag with Ernst Borgnine

Singing “Bandstand Boogie”—
And “Everybody’s Going to New York”
_____________________

With Lee Van Cleef & Donald Pleasance—
Harry Dean Stanton & Isaac Hayes

Breakneck burlesque—
Thrilling high-octane drag

Post-apocalyptic gender-fucks—
Edge of your seat cabaret swan songs
__________________

Kurt Russell in post-Weimar Hades—
Gets mind-blowing Bijou blowjobs

No Escape from New York—
Not for Snake Plissken

Debussy’s “Engulfed Cathedral”—
Flooding all of New York City

DESIGNING A NEW SCOUT UNIFORM 

“Ultimately, designers dictate 
the uniforms that we adopt, 
and it is fashion victims who 
blindly follow in the hope to 
become more desirable/
accepted/higher up in the 
social hierarchy.”
—Is Fashion Fascism? 
I THINK, THEREFORE I BLOG...

http://sophiecoughlan.blogspot.com/2009/10/is-fashion-fascism.html 
__________________________

We create new styles of fashions—
using cheap media design to exploit us.
It is rare to find someone who possesses 
true style, be it rebelling from the decreed 
‘this season’s look’ or merely just knowing 
what suits their body politik & shaping it. 

It takes a confident designer to try—to pull off the more daring looks of such a radical new season of scouting fashion, and it takes a much braver one to defy the often repressive fascist nature of the state & withstand the barrage of attacks from all angles from the formidable and unforgiving media and society—the sheep of yesterday versus those of today.
______________________


This brings us to start questioning the future career designs of a new Boy Scouts of America uniform. We have all read many comparisons between obvious propaganda and public relations—and the need to agree on any further compounding of scouting fascism and forced skinniness ‘agreed’ conformity.

The integrity of any tried and tested institution only lasts so long—whether it’s the military DADT policy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” or the DOMA policy of the “Defense of Marriage Act.” The American realpolitik zeitgeist changes and so does the Style of the Moment. 
________________________

Future campaigns and jobs depend on the promoting of something that is ultimately stylistically new and relevant—a style that’s not damaging to society and the image of its own forwarding tres advanced culture. Style is important—social design is how the future reforms the past and becomes the Now.

Analyzing an industry and culture is difficult—especially one that’s often blamed with the strangling constraints of complex postmodern QT style. 
__________________

The resulting shift in Queer Theory Style toward the new Boy Scouts—means redesigning the aforementioned fascist male-dominated fashion designs of pre-war fascist Italy and post-Weimer Berlin.

STYLE is mainly driven by men who design for women—as opposed to men designing for boyz. If this were not the case, then the fewer clothes the better for both sexes. 
____________________________

But we're all aware of how QT Fascist gay men are—seemly entranced to leather, SM and Joan Crawford shoulder pads. 

Svelte looks and that Bette Davis way of devastatingly scoping—around the whole fucking boring tacky joint. And quipping bitchily but ever so stylishly—“What a fucking goddamn dump!!!”

NEW SCOUTING FASHIONS 

“Social theorists speak of the "scavenging aesthetic" of modern fashion, of designers rooting around among "the archaeology of modernity" for hints and motifs and antiquated garments that resonate now, of how the modern doubles back on itself, as the past returns to "disturb and unsettle the confidence of the modern."—PETER POPHAM, “Fashion and Fascism—A Love Story,” The Independent, 3/06/2011
__________________

What could be more fashionable today than—
resurrecting worn-out old Boy Scouting USA?

What could be more decadent, my dears—
than a haughty Hitlerjungend Fashion Show?
___________________

What could simply be more tres de rigueur—
than designing nouveau Scouting Haute Couture?

What could be more kitschy & kosher—
than some cute sexy Hitler Youth models?
____________________

What could be more chic & up-to-date—
than some new Young Republicans in drag?

Throw in the Religious Right & Repugs too—
Rename “GOP” as the “Gay Old Party”!!!
_____________________

What could simply be more exciting and—
challenging than today’s lazy Slacker youth?

Getting them off their slovenly fat asses—
into the Disco Cages of Gay Bars once again?
________________________

Surely Boy Scouting hasn’t gone out of style—
let those antiquated garments resonate anew!

Scavenging & rooting around those campfires—
giving the boyz a new breeder fascist face lift!
______________________

Let the Boy Scout Past double back on itself—
returning to disturb & unsettle us once again

Shaking the confidence of Boring Bourgeoisie—
queer heteronormative Boy Scouts in drag!!!

GAY BOY SCOUTING 

_______________________

A Brief History of Boy Scouting
Boy Scout Bad Boys
The Gay Scout Master
Bad Boys in the Boonies
Earning Your Merit Badge
Elements of Scouting
Boy Scout Secrets
Scouting Out of the Closet
The Scouting Oath
The True Scout Master
Boy Scout as Houseboy
Merit Badge with Splashes of Cum on It
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A Brief History of Boy Scouting

“The announcement on Monday 
by Scouts officials that the ban 
on gays was in line for elimination 
was a thunderclap”—KIRK JOHNSON
“In a Quick Shift, Scouts Rethink a 
Ban on Gays,” The New York Times 
January 28, 2013

Hence the bad boys—
making our landscape tres gay
young boy scouts bare-ass naked
except for their butchy boots…

Boy Scout Bad Boys

He seeks solitude in the woods—
his worn-out jeans and flimsy
little thongs, my cute eagle scout

While he lets me sample—
his Orange Julius eggwhite froth
those sloppy salami seconds

Smoking a joint—
while I gobble his nice gob
a lob of cumly jail bait

The Gay Scout Master

Let the needy, the glutinous—
bald-headed gay scout masters
sprinkled with pixie dust enter the

Formidable kingdom of boys—
pink as cotton candy where
the heart starts throbbing

This is where bad boys come—
feeling it down to their toes
the teenage choirs shrieking

The snug bar of soap fits—
so nicely up their tight assholes
zippity-do-dah shooting their wads

Bad Boys in the Boonies

“where we could be boys together”
—D. A. Powell, “Boonies,” Useless
Landscape: A Guide for Boys

This region of wanting it bad—
the campestral adolescent
campfire of hard-to-get

Finally I get to kiss his tits—
slide down the slippery slope
into his raffish darkest dingles

No longer banished from his—
slick abdomen, busting his nut
gloriously gobsmacked gluttony

Bon voyage to blushing boyage—
flexing his limbs, his ripe lips
finding his secret drupe at last

Earning Your Merit Badge

Your sullen slouch, rakish grin—
how is it you hold such an
awesome influence over me?

You’re the real scout master—
mastering me with a school boy’s
hard salacious striptease act

You draw me down to the prize—
earning my ultimate faggot’s
merit badge for taboo touché 

The porky-pig runny snot—
whose singular labor is mine
your snatch of plush peach-fuzz

Elements of Scouting

The horny boy scout favors nudity—
his tight loin-chop bare ass shedding
his yellow-stained pair of shorts

Gliding into my arms in the tent—
not scrimping with the exquisite
funky odor of his boyish groin

He jerks, lurches, comes—
I’m a rare spectator between his
succulent start and sweaty finish

We listen to the hoot owls at night—
but neither he nor I can sleep
so sleek sloppy seconds follow next

Boy Scout Secrets

Love never seems to dismay him—
the pop fly, brusque fast ball strike,
the Fenway Park Green Monster

He’s an easy out, an athletic slug—
letting me have his downy fuzzy
strenuous pubed runny homeruns

He takes his time making me beg—
so clever with each tight lob of cum
the queer joy of getting him off

Turning me into gay scout master—
scurrying around in a clownish tizzy
while he just sedately yawns

Scouting Out of the Closet

It’s so tacky being a faggy priest—
Worshipping the little abused lambs 
Huddled in the confession booths

I’d rather be a gay scoutmaster—
Out in the open in Mother Nature
Doing the confessing in the woods

The Vatican is so very maddening—
The Catholic Legion of Decency
Simply gets on my nelly nerves

Let me shear the cute yearlings—
Pale prepucial peachfuzz pubes
My lips smeared with cum & smegma

The Scouting Oath

Hiking up to the headwaters of—
Genius Falls in Mt. Rainier Park
you lie back naked closing your eyes

Wiry boy with an uncut prick—
pealing you back like a juicy apricot
savoring each dribble down your chest

Your long lanky legs around my neck—
your whole delinquent body full of 
Crème of Olay truant manly juices

The waterfall rocks slick, dark, steep—
The way you get cross-eyed losing it
Your family jewels squandered helplessly

The True Scout Master

The true scoutmaster always finds a way—
he knows his forebears since ancient
Greece and Rome queered those goodies

He knows how to rummage politely—
in some slick kid’s stinky stained drawers
tasting the stillborn infants yet to come

Yes, the true scoutmaster is a bastard—
needs to be bitch-slapped and chastised 
if only the parents knew his predilections

The true scoutmaster is nobody’s fool—
a lurid audacious greedy chicken queen
desecrating young pubes his work of art

Boy Scout as Houseboy

Each last drag off his cigarette—
a tacky piece of jewelry piercing
his tit, upper lip and foreskin

How i love to take out my false teeth—
and gum the kid to death, my little
lazyboy liebschen so louche & lewd

My pretty little peacock kept boy—
spawning his pouch of breeder joy
his lovely boy scout badboy booty

Society should be glad that i take—
the time to rid the boring bourgeoisie
of such a profligate useless youth

Merit Badge with Splashes of Cum on It

Once I got a lewd wad stuck down deep—
clogging my throat with the nastiest cum
tickling my tonsils like a good line of coke

I had him stripped and hanging down—
from the ceiling in chains & black leather
using a car aerial as a mean S/M switch

My mouth felt like a filthy lavatory—
doing a hand-job as he pleaded with me:
“Beat me, burn me, fuck me to death!!!”

Jailbat can be so tantalizing and alluring—
pouty young poultry the first time around
especially when you snap their Necks

Spider Woman Strikes Back

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The Conformist

THE CONFORMIST (1971) 

“Molina is the moviegoer as auteur.
Babenco was reaching for something
larger, something tragic and aggressively
moral”—Pauline Kael, The New Yorker

Perhaps this film, “The Conformist,” directed by Bernaldo Bertolucci is the reason why Manuel Puig preferred Jean-Louis Trintignant to play Molina in “Kiss of the Spider Woman”—rather than William Hurt.

European directors like Bertolucci, Visconti and Pasolini—as well as actors like Jean-Louis Trintignant—are relatively more sophisticated and acquainted with decadence and homosexuality on the screen. 

“The Conformist” was probably seen by Puig in Buenos Aires—known as the Berlin of South America. The way Trintignant plays Marcello, a repressed homosexual in pre-war Fascist Italy, is perhaps close to what Puig had in mind in terms of an actor who could authentically play a gay personality like Molina.

Molina and Marcello aren’t naïve when it comes to being gay in a repressive anti-gay fascist society—in many ways Italy and Argentina are scenes of the same perverted fascist belief systems.

Pauline Kael in her review of Spider Woman in The New Yorker quipped that “Hurt as Molina is like having a basset hound playing a chihuahua.”

The problem is did William Hurt have any experience or idea what goes through the head of a Latino drag queen—who like so many movie-loving gays had arranged a personal theater of romantic fantasy constantly playing inside her imagination.

Puig in his novel is saying that queens may be useless, silly window-dressing, like movie romances—but it can be lovely to enhance life, making it more rapturously giddy despite or because of how awful the world around them can be.

Trintignant plays Marcello in “The Conformist” with a homoerotic depth much more seriously and authentically—than a rather clueless Hurt who never quite manages to capture the pathos, irony and fag jouissance of Puig’s Molina. 

The Italian novelist Alberto Moravia who wrote the acerbic  “The Conformist” met Puig in a colloquium discussing movies in Rome. Moravia, a seasoned cineaste, was asked by Puig how a star’s presence affected the interpretation of a novel—wondering if it either strengthened or weakens a character.

One has to ask would Trintignant playing Molina had been as successful at Cannes and the Academy Awards—as William Hurt playing Molina was?

Obviously, one has to also ask to what extent did the Hollywood str8t bourgeoisie mentality—purposely “transumptively” recast Molina as a politically correct courageous heroic fag femme fatale in respect to Puig’s quite different version of Molina in his movie?

Puig wasn’t a sentimentalist. There is no authorial voice as such—and the motives behind what the men say are elusive. 

There’s an indication that both men are subversively using each other. Molina using Raul Julia to squeal to the warden—and to get her release. And Julia using Molina to pass the time and fuck every once in awhile. 

The movie supposedly about Molina’s transfiguration thru the power of love, happiness and self-respect (that is shedding his effeminate mannerisms)—all this bourgeois redemptive crap is as phony as the forties screen movies that Molina watches.

Puig shrugged—responding to interviewers with an author’s fatalism, alluding to the nasty old Hollywood story in which writers so often felt cheated fiscally as well as creatively.

Jean-Louis Trintignat

THE OTHER MOLINA 

“Ahora yo…soy tū”
(Now I…am you”)
—Manuel Puig
Kiss of the Spider Woman

“Puig had definite ideas—
about the kind of actor
who should play Molina.
His first choice was Jean-
Louis Trintignant” 
—Suzanne Jill Levine
Manuel Puig and the
Spider Woman: His
Life and Fictions
_________________

Just because La Hurt gets—
awarded the Cannes Palme d’Or
as well as the first Oscar for
Best Actor playing a faggy queen,
Manuel knew that such str8t
recognition was just a facade

It was the way that “La Metro”—
Hollywood posed & pretended
to be tres avant garde, rolling 
out the red carpet for itself to
be God’s gift to the queers.
__________________________

"I found myself getting
used to watching Hurt
playing Hurt playing
Molina"—Manuel Puig

When really it was just simply—
Gloria Swanson doing her tacky
old Norma Desmond routine all
over again like “Sunset Boulevard”
with another great comeback as
she descends the spiral staircase
ready for her DeMille close-up again.

Glorious gauche Silver Screen—
tragic tacky Technicolor so very
crummy with Cinemascope and
syrupy Stereophonic kitsch with
lewd vapid VistaVision schmaltz,
butchy reverberations and dark
sinister faggoty misgivings
__________________________

"Between Molina's
earthy levity and
Hurt's neurotic
intensity yawned
a huge abyss."
—Suzanne Levine
Manuel Puig and Kiss
of the Spider Woman

La Hurt playing maudlin Molina—
masculinized ersatz muy macho
dying for a heroic political cause,
missing the while point Puig was
making: that effeminate queens
aren’t necessarily cowardly when
it comes to being gay and proud

AFTER THE REVOLUTION 

—for Richard Blanco

It was in the early Sixties—
and here they all were
spread out from Miami
all the way to New Orleans

Such a loud and nervous—
bunch of exiled young Cubans
speaking Spanish so very
quickly nobody could
keep up with them

Exiles of Castro’s revolution—
children of all the wealthy
Havana elite class: doctors,
lawyers, politicians, spawn
of gone Batista fat cat days

This was Latino diaspora—
Arenas, Servo Sarduy, 
Even Manuel Puig and
Kiss of the Spider Woman
exiled gay writers that
were more like me than
anybody thought back then

My exile was slower—
about as revolutionary
as a slug track of mucous
in some Garden of Str8t Eden
from which I’d been cast into
my own “gringo” diaspora

I was born in bondage—
raised in a pig sty of
bigots and exiled the
minute I started lisping,
swishing, flipping my
nelly fag weak wrists…
______________________________________

William Hurt as Luis Molina in "Kiss of the Spider Woman"