Stories

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Sometime in this era I had met a young guy probably through my across the street neighbor Pat. He was gay. How it happened I have no idea, but I went to visit him over in Noe Valley one night. He was living in one those small back yard cottages. We laid in bed together in reversed coterminous and I did the whole thing, very slowly and exploratory. At a later time after Pat had moved to the country, he moved into her place across the street and was now painting. He had done what I thought was a pretty good painting, all in blue, which was of a severe old man as an icon, being berated by very small stricken-ugly people-figures, at the bottom like vicious little demons very out of sorts with the nobleman.

I visited him several times and this last we made it, with him having to be the dom, but of which he wasn't, so the thing was more or less half-assed. The upshot was I was not a dom and I decided I really liked women better, and so have never engaged in it since. There was the woman I had been in love with at the Art Institute, but I only talked to her once after I knew she already had a boyfriend, who was not of my type by any means, a real regular-guy, I suspected and tall.

Ford and I both used the rapidograph pen. I think I used number three. He liked to draw. We would draw at the kitchen table with our pens, Strathmore paper and India Ink. I liked to get stoned and draw.

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