TT will be an open and permeable e-journal with a radical faerie attitude. It will be edited, but not with a heavy hand. Send me stuff, and odds are pretty good that'll get in, especially if it's about:
My vision is that the online faeries will support the broader faerie community by downloading TT and distributing it in paper format. And things can work the other way, too.
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mleger@panix.com
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Paper submissions should be sent to the Faerie.Gram address, which is:
Have fun! Pass it around the net. And let me know what you think...
8th Annual Ganowungo Gathering (Fri., July 15-Mon., July 18, 1994)
The Ganowungo Gathering is a wilderness camp-out for gay men held on private land in westernmost New York. Bring camping gear (both kinds), vegetarian food & water to share. The Ganowungo Faerie Sanctuary is 25 acres of wilderness-forest, cliff, creek & meadow. For invitation/map, send SASE to Jay Stratton, 121 Union St., Westfield, NY 14787.
Whole Earth Gatherings
Whole Earth, a brand new neo-pagan/radical faerie collective, has two upcoming summer events that they would like to announce: Summer Camp '94-a celebration of summer fun and earth spirituality. The wheel of the year turns as we dance and drum around the campfire. We all gather in a celebration of life, peace, love, and nature with music, fun and festivities. July 8th, 9th and 10th at Harriman State Park, Harriman, NY.
Moon Faerie Festival-a celebration of faerie spirituality and summer fun. August 5th, 6th and 7th at Harriman State Park, Harriman, NY. The cost for both events is $40. For registration form, write or call Nick Papatonis at:
Do not eschew Cronely bird blue For hussies who Seem fresh and new.You figure it out=8A
It was a week that unfolded like a blooming poppy. Simple, clear-colored petals from what had been crinkled tissue paper, bound tight in the bud. It was a week with lots of lightening, opening the sky to rain, heavy rain,
Thursday, Solstice Ritual Planning chez Aleksandra Drag: Basic boy. Rayon shorts with a sort of Indian print, very slinky and cock showing, Police vs St. Elizabeth basketball game t-shirt, sunglasses.
Hot. Endora took off his clothes and I was there in my shorts and Aleksandra was there in his shorts and we sweated and planned a grandiose ritual worshipping hand-carried elements, playing with solar balloons, spiral dancing and meditating on riot and rage. Glen arrived from Wisconsin, and said what a charming ritual, but all he wanted was a chance to look everyone in the eyes and that would be enough.
Friday at Club USA Drag: Cyber-sissy, black and silver rayon h-line belted with a digital sampler pedal & cord, black penny-less loafers.
Really stoned. We started out on the fourth floor dancing to trance music and slides by Keisha. Retired to the roof, where I talked to this sad and pretentious guy about German studies. His girlfriend was walking around in two foot platform shoes that lit up. Chatted also with David Ebony who is going to Egypt. Went downstairs, then Donald Gallagher asked Bambi and I if we wanted to go downstairs. We did. Took stairs, then traveled down a long hallway lined with mirrors and then rows of sex booths. The dance floor was banally huge, hundreds of people, mostly determinedly straight. Donald put on his faerie wings, then floated out. Bambi and I danced for a bit, then got entranced by floor show, which was put on by the Empress's court. The interesting stuff happened in the shadows, where people challenged the drag queens for the spotlight, and the drag queens edited the statements of our desire. Like, there was a beautiful kid (he looked 17 at the most) who kept trying to grind the asses of the go-go butches. The drag mommies kept pulling him away, but he kept finding a way back on stage. Stubborn youth.
Sunday: Circus Amok Picnic in Prospect Park Drag: Blue paisley hippie dress, wide gardening hat, bare feet.
Circus Amok is a queer circus lead by Jennifer Miller. Chris and I got there early to spread out a picnic blanket. Hung out with Scotty, who was to perform. Scotty wore a simple yellow tea dress with a ragged hem and a square collar, coming apart. He told us he wore it to a truckers' diner that morning, and didn't have a problem. Tatty drag is a surprisingly safe choice for many social occasions.
The circus started out exuberantly, with a marching band around the audience, but soon we saw lightening flashes and heard thunder, and the few little raindrops got bigger and soon it was raining, raining hard. We got drenched and the circus was ruined. The faeries ran for shelter in the band shell. Chris and I went home.
But it was a summer rain that ended soon. As soon as we were in dry clothes, Chris and I headed back to the park. We schmoozed with the sopping performers and audience friends. But the schmoozing didn't feel like a complete event; I missed not seeing the circus. Luckily, when I got home the second time, I got a call from David Pinkerton who invited me down to a faerie dinner at the Keisha and Lobelia loft. I went and had conversations with legendary faeries like Luc Morency, David Pinkerton and Bambi. These were legendary faeries who I haven't really had conversations with before, so it ended up being a very satisfying evening.
Tuesday: Solstice ritual on Gansevoort Street Drag: Pioneer girl flowered sun dress that nicely shows off my witches' wheel tattoo.
Coming up to the building, I met yet another legendary faerie, Gabby from Short Mountain. Gabby has nice eyes and a beautifully full beard. It turned out that we had the space for an hour less than we had thought, so we had to rush through things. Rushing faeries through anything is a losing proposition. The circle was big, bigger than we expected. I'm glad that we at least all got to pass the talisman once around the circle, say our name and check-in with how we were feeling. The ritual quickly became different from the planners' vision. The faeries wanted to drum, dance, and release energy. The person who was supposed to call in fire forgot, and I was pinched in to service. We reversed the order of the two principal events, then ended up dropping one of them (my part, which was playing with balloons -- drat). As one of the priestesses, it felt a lot like shepherding a flock of wild elk: fun, but exhausting and ultimately futile.
Somehow, we got through the ritual, and even though it was a good ritual, it didn't seem to flow in a way that felt organically right. Isadora and I talked about it. Isadora asked if I had read the Jim Jackson article on intuitive ritual in DragHead. Isadora thought a better approach would have been for the ritual planners to just have provided elements that could have been brought out when the time seemed right, if at all. If every faerie is a priestess, then every faerie can help unfold the ritual.
Thursday afternoon: X-Travaganza Performance set decoration Drag: Rayon shorts and white t-shirt.
We wrapped columns with long strips of anti-sequin, and stuffed a jock strap with yards of pink tulle.
Thursday evening: Queer Pagan ritual and X-Travaganza Performance Night 1 Drag: Hot pink floating chiffon gown, rainbow bauble necklace, strawberry blonde wig, combat boots.
We drummed the circle into being, and it was big, much bigger than planned. Everything took longer, but that was OK. Nice ritual, but I missed the spontaneity and group energy of the faeries.
Caught cab at the Magic Cab Spot--Bleeker and Christopher Street. Felt so glamorous. I really was Trixie Glamourama, rushing from fabulous tribal event to fabulous tribal event. Caught the last part of Agnes & Gabriel's performance (fabulous) and all of Moondoggie Firefly (would like to see a full set).
Performance Night Two Drag: Boy khaki shorts and t-shirt. Low key evening. Chris performed and people said they like it, which was good to hear. Bigger audience than night before.
Friday: Garden Breakfast and Faerie Olympics Drag: Khaki shorts and t-shirt, changing to Mondrian print sun dress changing to faerie tribal jockstrap adorned with silk fig leaves
I was worried about the breakfast. I pictured hundreds of faeries, acting and dressing wildly, and the neighborhood getting really pissed off at me. But I decided to go against my fears, and be out as a faerie in the community where I lived and helped to organize. The event turned out to be quite lovely, with faeries chatting pleasantly with neighbors. Lar arrived, who turned out to be my gathering crush. This may be rationalizing, but I consider crushes to partly be aspects of myself that I haven't yet learned to love. So I tend to keep crushes at a distance, and just sort of mentally explore what I find attractive about them. Lar represented the boyish intellectual who is enthusiastic, adventurous, still a little clumsy. Although for the rest of the weekend Lar and I did share some nice little talks and pleasant hugs.
William, the mistress of ceremonies for the faerie olympics, showed up. The rest of the group walked up to the parade grounds, where the olympics were to take place, while William and I took the subway because there was so much stuff to schlep. . Faerie time. The event was scheduled for 12:00. By 1:30, only a handful of faeries were there, not enough to hold the games. Then we saw a huge parade of faeries, including the puppets, and we felt relieved. The games could begin!
William had asked me to be the faerie wand bearer, so when the formed the circle, I ducked behind a tree, changed into the faerie tribal jockstrap, and came running in, circling and swooping. I was let into the center of the circle, and I went around and blessed each individual. The blessings really passed back and forth, so I was multiply blessed, and it felt good.
The games were fun. Sack race. Sucking race. Handbag throw. Noone refereeing, everyone cheating, noone keeping score. The end came when William shouted someone was stealing the prizes. We all ran after the culprits. We caught them, and the prizes went spilling to the ground. I had wanted the little parasol, but Aleksandra snatched that up. I got the Hairy Harry toy, which I enjoyed because I like hairy guys, and this weird green monster thing attached to a loop. Lobelia complained about not getting the earrings that she wanted, so I have her the monster, thinking Lobelia could loop it around her ear. But I wasn't giving up my Hairy Harry.
Drag March Drag: Terry cloth daisy sundress -- my body is the stem, the collar is the petals, and my face is the center of the flower.
The march was not on faerie time. It left Tompkins Square Park promptly at 9:00. Second Avenue was full of sprinting drag queens, including us, pressing to catch up. When we joined, the march felt really crowded. The police hadn't given us enough room to spread out and have fun. When we got to Sheridan Square/Seventh Avenue, there was nothing to do, and the crowd just milled about restlessly. The faeries spontaneously said fuck this, and formed a circle, spiraling then snaking. This was fun, but then Cypress learned that we needed to either move or be arrested. So we snaked out of the mob, then down Christopher Street, hissing at delighted onlookers. We picked up people along the way, people who had never heard of the faeries. Then people dropped away when it started to rain. We were a small circle on the pier, where we chanted that old chestnut --We all come from the Goddess. Then lightening flashed, and it was scary and profound at the same time (...like a drop of rain...). At a guard's urging, we left the pier and found shelter under a tent while it rained torrentially. I wish Shiva would move to Brooklyn, because she's really funny and has such a sweet smile.
Soon we got bored and we splashed our ways up the gutters of Christopher Street to the Magical Cab Spot. Of course a cab pulled right over, and we poured in. We went to the Keisha/Lobelia loft., where we dried off and then talked around the kitchen table till about 2, then Endora and I called a car service and went home. We talked about the revolutionary potential of joy and ecstasy, and how the cops just don't know how to control it because it is so different and alien from the world of violence and confrontation to which they belong.
Saturday: Judy Garland ritual starting at Judson Church Drag: Metallic copper blouse, black chiffon skirt with gold squiggles, black patent leather pumps, sequined pill box hat, face paint.
Joan is so lovely. Her performance as Judy Garland was legendary. After we laid her in the bier, she was really dead, refusing to move even when she almost slipped off and was in danger of crashing, corpselike to the pavement. The drumming began inside the church, and it was like hearing your mothers heart beat from inside the womb. When we carried the bier out into the Washington Square, the drumming merged with the air, becoming a distant thing that had to be followed, and with which we could never again merge so completely. But it was worth it, because now we could have an adventure.
We snaked through the Village. Thanks to Cypress, the cops parted the way across Seventh Avenue. We ended up on the pier, people knotted around the bier. We knew Judy needed space for her resurrection and come back performance. Some of us tried to make a circle around the bier, but failed. Just when we felt frustrated, people started simply stepping back, and the circle opened from the center. Judy was fabulous.
Then we did an enormous spiral dance and energy raising. We chanted and raised our hands to the sky. I left feeling jangly and knew I needed to earth some of the energy I had been channeling. I fell to the pier, and when I lifted my head, saw that everybody else had fallen to the pier, too.
Intuitive ritual.
Sunday: March down Fifth Avenue Drag. Same blue hippie dress as last Sunday, light blue scarf, tree of life face paint (very good sun block, besides).
An exhilarating, swirling day. Multiple impressions, no narrative. Big drum in a shopping cart. Snakes of festive drag. Hot Dionysus. Dancing and being hugged and kissed by the giant faerie puppets. Kissing Chris in the middle of 57th Street. Meeting friends who had never seen the faeries before, who joined right in. Dragons, hissing dragons. But we won't be slain this time. Worshipping the drag queen on the steps of the NYPL. Stopping in front of Saint Patricks Cathedral, chanting and raising our hands, pushing back the evil energy emanating from those stones, the millenia of murderous Christianity. I pictured the Tower card, lightening bolts hitting those towers and the whole edifice of the patriarchy crumbling. Quiet times of walking silently, no drums, no dancing, the tribe moving across the land. Exodus. Arriving in the park and finding a glen to cool down and rest. Being a faerie photo opportunity -- all those expensive media cameras. If we were paid for our images, we could easily buy Destiny Lodge. Wearily rising for the last bit of the trek to the Pinetum. I see a sign saying "Support Stonewall. Buy Water." I think, that is a difference between me and the organizers of the march. Water is a sacred element, that should not be sold. The goddess provides, and we should freely, but reverently, take. Maybe they should be selling sno-cones instead, lavender scented sno-cones.
Then the plant life changed from broadleaved trees to conifers. We were at the Pinetum, the faerie tribal gathering spot. We shared water and sandwiches. Clumps of napping people on picnic blankets. A time of rest and reintegration.
"I dream'd in a dream I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth, I dream'd that was the new city of Friends..." Walt WhitmanNew Years Eve was here again. After a scramble to get Ed ready for bed (he has Parkinsons and I'm his Companion) I hopped in the car and headed for Walnut Hill. I live in Manchester and Raymond is only a short distance. The car was packed and I mentally checked off in my mind what the Call had described: "You will be required to bring Warm Clothes and everything you would bring to a cheap motel room for three days without leaving". Was I ready for this ?
My fourth Gathering. The previous ones had all been in a rather primitive location. An Outhouse was the only facility available. I fell in love with the charm of the dammed up pond, the tall pine trees and the isolation. And being free with my own kind, Fairies....at Goodspeed Farm in Rhode Island.
I had been to Walnut Hill before. Years ago it was a training site for AIDS Buddies. It was a well established conference center run by a gay couple. The Call spoke of a Social Lite Gathering.. With Sweat Lodge and wood gathering..Dark trippy trips.. Warm Fuzzy Feelings.. Late night intimacy... I was both wary and excited.. Was I ready for this?
I'm an experienced hiker and am comfortable with gay men challenging the elements and most of all a mountain trail. This would be inside and more of a "motel" activity? Would I find people I could relate to? Would I be able to adapt? At 57, and now divorced, I needed to accept, change and start looking at my gayness in a new way. Harry Hay's idea that we are a Third Gender, fascinates me. I had even warned my gay room-mates that I might return before Sunday night. It was now Friday and New Years Eve 1993. Tomorrow was the first Family Reunion I would miss. "It's time to step out and start the year with my own kind, I had told myself"... But I still felt insecure and scared.
As I drove in the parking-lot, it was as I expected, full. The Call had mentioned an arrival time of 5:00 PM on Thursday. I could just imagine all the rooms filled, the groups formed and just walking in and being checked out.. I found it difficult to walk in.
I was carrying my Apple Cake. It is my trade-mark. It is all natural, sweet and looks good. I walked into the kitchen area and a beautiful man smiled at me. Dandelion was the kitchen Faerie today. Like all Gatherings, Faeries fly in un-announced, drop their belongings where they wish, and boldly make themselves felt. It always amazes me how we always eat well, never suffer from any real discomfort and although it is a special type of emotional abuse, we always leave with the idea of returning.
The Meeting Room had pillows spread out in the usual circular fashion. Younger and older men milled about. A few familiar faces, a few gorgeous men looking at me with mild interest. White Eagle had landed...
I walked back out to the car, struggled with my old brown Air Force duffle bag and found an empty couch, of all places in the upstairs hallway. Not much privacy. But I was one of the last ones to arrive.
I had decided to wear jeans, my Chiltern Mountain Club cap and a flashy Tee-Shirt I had purchased at last summers National Gay Nudist Gathering. If nothing else, I didn't have to say much, it was obvious I had been to other gay places before.
I talked briefly and started to feel a little more accepted. So I decided to just lay down in the Meeting Room and slowly get to know the place. Before long, I heard the Yooo Hooooo, that every Radical Faerie recognizes as the call to a Circle. I remained stretched out and slowly the room filled up with about 35 men and one womin. The talisman appeared and in that Circle, again I introduced myself, smiled and looked about. The feeling was the same. I nonchalantly stroked my neighbors leg, he returned the gesture. Across from me I was admiring a beautiful young man.
He neither stared or appeared flattered. He just looked back. I was back with Fairies again. What a feeling. Slowly I sensed a new topic. Two men named John had taken up a room and insisted on Privacy. There had been a confrontation. The John's had left and the group was frustrated with the incident. Opposing views, tempers started to rise.. "With a packed place, how could they ask us to leave them alone?" "This is a group event, we have to be considerate and share the little space we have". Later I mentioned being hesitant about attending Stonewall 94 in NYC because of the limited housing. A younger man looked up at me, his face light up, and he suggested occupying a park with tents and calling it "Peoples Land".... The Circle broke up, not much was resolved, but I now knew names and had a feel for the personalities. But I was thinking ahead. My main reason for being here.. It had been announced that the Sweat Lodge was about ready and it would happen later.
I collected my jacket and headed out the back. I had asked where the sweat lodge was. The reply was: "Outside, follow the trail".. And yes there is was, a path leading East. It was well traveled. About 6 inches of snow had fallen a couple of days ago. I could see old leaves sticking out and a road ahead.
It was getting dark fast. No time to get my flashlight. But thinking to myself: "There's no moon but you've hiked in total darkness, let's go". I walked ahead. After a short distance, I faced a slow decline and noticed to the left a low building with a blue tarp on the roof. It was no higher then four feet and seemed real small to me. As I got closer, a serious man was poking on the ground inside the Lodge. I walked closer and smiled at him, he smiled back. A camp-fire was in an advanced stage close by. Walking up to it, and feeling the hot gases against my face and the wonderful aroma of burning wood, I took in a deep breath and wondered what I was getting involved with.
I looked around and slowly I sensed that with the few men who had just walked into the clearing, we were about 10-12. And then the hot bricks were scraped onto shovels, transferred to picks and placed into the Lodge. It reminded me of the old Indian trick of burning a man at the stake. Did I dare go along with this. But too late to back down, I was in line and away from the warmth of the open fire, I could feel my clothes slipping off. It was dark but light enough to see clothes dropping around and slowly the pale sight of nude men all around me. Being a nudist, I quickly recognized the breast, triangular hair patches and eager faces, smiling and scared like myself. I asked and was told that we walked in, clockwise and sat down. I was scared to look ahead or in back of me. I felt like I was about to be exterminated, nude and all. I walked ahead of a nice pair of buttocks. The Lodge smelt of dampness and Pine. I'm pretty tall, but I was able to stoop in, keep my balance, and although I had taken off my shoes, I was able to maneuver my way in. I felt a bench under my rear. And as I was about to make myself comfortable, a voice in the dark suggested we move in closer to let a few more in. We must have been close to 12 in that small space. I felt the warmth of bodies on both sides of me. Hands on my thighs. Slowly I could feel myself relaxing, the tenseness left me. And as I looked up, the door was closed. I could see a soft glow at my feet. Hot bricks looking translucent and friendly. And then the feeling of warmth, love and companionship hit me. I was in the Womb again, it was dark and warm and I was being caressed and returning it.
We started our Chant to the Goddess.. The humming began and I could feel the warm feelings along my thighs as I could feel my cock filling up and rising. It lasted for probably an hour, I'm not sure. I felt bearded cheeks against my face, warm lips and prodding tongues in my mouth. My nipples were being massaged. I was reaching over and beyond. It wasn't as much legs as arms, extended and it seemed coming from every direction. And the warmth, it was getting warmer. I had thought at first, that the bricks wouldn't be enough. I was wrong, we had water jugs and I could hear the hissing sound of water being sprayed on the bricks. Now and then a plastic milk-jug was suddenly pushed against my face, and my arms. I groped for it, and felt a hand.
I quickly took it and felt for the cap, it was still there. The first time, I felt that my aura had been invaded and that it was interfering with the groping. I passed it to my left quickly. As it disappeared I noticed that I was hot and thirsty. The next time, I drank from it, and mischievously pored water into my lap. Yep, my cock shrank back and I enjoyed the wet feeling. Slowly the young creature to my right became very aggressive. I could feel his energy rising. I asked him his name. I shall say Dahlia. This isn't his real name but I don't want to reveal his identity. We got closer and he was delightful. At about that time, I could sense restlessness taking up the group. Somebody was hot and wanted to leave. It seemed like the spell was broken. It was hot. Amazing but the bricks had done their job.
It was time to go. slowly I slid around and gingerly stepped out. The cold ground under my bare feet was a shock. Quickly I moved to the tree where my clothes were. As I turned around, I saw whiteness close by. A beautiful blond man, with an impish smile, was about. I glanced at my eye-level and blushingly told him: "You have a beautiful cock". He looked excited and just giggled.. I told myself.. "Get Dressed or you'll freeze standing up". I had forgotten a towel. I can still remember the stark shock of my hot cheeks on my cold nylon jacket as I sat down to slip my boots on. Once dressed, I knew I had to get away. My head was full. I sauntered off, walking in the dark again. Head lowered, wondering... "I wonder when the next sweat is..."
TO BE CONTINUED...