Went to a party tonight here in the D.F. My Danish friend Kirsten played a Morrissey song I had never heard or never listened closely to...

"In America, The land of the free, they said, And of opportunity, In a just and a truthful way.
But where the president, is never black, female or gay, and until that day, you've got nothing to say to me, to help me believe"

Right now I'm obsessed with Wong Kar Wai.

I just read the Pullman trilogy -- hate to see a movie before reading the book. I'm rereading Amor en los Tiempos de Colera -- hate to see a movie before reading the book.

men, photography, writing, men.

True story: When I was pre-pubescent an older cousin and his wife visited for a week. He had a huge, heavy, red-brown beard -- unheard of in those days. Once after he showered I went to do my regular chore of cleaning the bathroom. He left behind a single hair from his beard. As thick and stiff as a bristle brush. I put that hair in a plastic film container and kept it for years.

True story 2: When I was pubescent I had dreams/waking dreams/wet dreams that while I was asleep my beard grew so long it filled my bedroom and I had to climb/swim through that jungle of hair to get out. Still gives me a boner just thinking about it.

True story 3: When I was adolescent 50,000 Hells Angels held a month long rally in my tiny Kentucky home town of 7000. Suddenly, lined up at the local Tasty Freeze were hundreds of bearded, long haired, tattooed, rough and ready men -- and their buxom biker babes. I knew then what I wanted. It sounds twistedly narcissistic but I wanted simultaneously to be the biker and his bitch.