I am offering my services as a Life Coach. I am serious about this. My philosophy begins with identifying something in your life that isn't going well. It will be my job to help you make progress in the specific area and, in doing so, improve the whole of your life. I will not guarantee that I will be able to fix your problem. I will not guarantee that working with me will make you happier. But my instinct tells me that I may be able to help you. If you are interested, please contact me. We will decide on a time to meet in person and discuss what specifically you want to improve or change in your life. I will tell you if I believe I can help. I will draw on my own experiences facing difficulty and recovery. Of course, "my recovery" is not over, it is a daily commitment to making good decisions, following-through, and thinking about and re-evaluating what is working and what is not working in my life. I hope, if you are interested in hiring me as your Life Coach, you ask me pointed, serious questions with skepticism and you come away from our meeting feeling like you can trust me and that I can help.
My rate is $100/hour. But that's on a sliding scale depending on what you can afford. Don't let the rate stop you from reaching out, if you feel inclined to do so. Our first meeting would of course be free.
Let me reiterate that I promise no results, only that you will have my authentic attention and my sincere effort to empower you to make the specific change you identify. I am not a therapist. I have no type of degree related to therapy or anything of the sort. I believe that I can be a mentor in being human and improving the condition of your life. However, if after our discussion I believe I won't be able to assist you, I will tell you. I will let you know if I think a therapist or psychiatrist could help. In truth, I believe therapy can help everyone. So our one meeting may just be the bridge you need to start therapy. Or it will be something else. I realize the delicacy of assisting a human person feel better. With empathy and humility, I will do what I can to help.
If I know you and you are interested, just contact me however you like. If I don't know you, please leave a comment with your email. I moderate all comments, so it won't be published.
I look forward to hearing from you.
much love,
Anthony
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Jumping Off Rocks
This last weekend I went up to Yosemite. I went with Abbey to visit my sister who is working at a summer camp where I used to work. I took the three of us to this spot called Early Intake, which is a few miles south-west of the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. It's about a three mile hike in. You get to this spot on a river where there are 20-foot cliffs and a couple perfect places to jump off the cliffs into the water.
When I got to the spot on the river with the rocks and the small cliffs, memories came rushing back of leading groups of girls and boys to this spot, and carefully setting out the guidelines before watching the kids jump in the cold water, swim about ten feet to the opposite side of the river, climb the rocks and jump off. It was so much fun. And somehow no one ever got hurt.
Going back this past weekend was blissful. I jumped into the cold river water, dipped my head in, and swam to the opposite side. I got out of the water, scaled the rocks to the highest spot and jumped. I was definitely nervous at the top of the ledge, but it wasn't going to stop me. It felt so good to fall 20 feet; I used my arms to make sure my body stayed perpendicular to the water. You definitely don't want to over-rotate and belly flop from that height. I felt the wind against my arms keeping me in line and I hit the water hard with my feet, probably went down five feet or more. I shot back up with adrenaline coursing through my body and splashed out. I threw my fist in the air and yelled, "yes!". I wanted Abbey and Nin to know I was alive, mostly. But I was also really happy that no rock had moved under the spot where we all used to jump in. I was happy to be alive, too.
But it wasn't just jumping off the rocks that was blissful. This spot on the river is perfectly etched out. The small cliffs that allow for jumping are majestic and silver-grey like so many stones in Yosemite. The color of Half Dome. And for those who don't like jumping off rocks, this place is also a perfect little swimming hole. Just down a bit from where we were, the river gets really wide and the view is made up of pine trees and bushes and other trees.
No man or woman did anything to create this place. It was created by the exacting movement of the earth. I felt so aware of this while swimming. I could feel that I was not in a swimming pool. The water was too cold. I felt too alive. The sun was hot. I felt many things. I was scared from jumping off the rocks, I was scared to be swimming in cold, wild water. I had no idea what other creatures were swimming along with me. But I also felt exhilarated. The green of the trees, the cut of the stone and the rocks, the movement of the river, the temperature of the water, the heat of the sun. I felt it all. It all felt so good.
I forget how different it feels to be in a place outside the city, surrounded by trees, away from the urban mayhem, in the peace of afternoon sunlight. I felt peaceful and on-edge. But also peaceful. In a way I haven't felt in a long time. I forget how important it is for me to go these places, leaving paved roads behind.
with love of the wild, exhilarating, serene outdoors,
Anthony
When I got to the spot on the river with the rocks and the small cliffs, memories came rushing back of leading groups of girls and boys to this spot, and carefully setting out the guidelines before watching the kids jump in the cold water, swim about ten feet to the opposite side of the river, climb the rocks and jump off. It was so much fun. And somehow no one ever got hurt.
Going back this past weekend was blissful. I jumped into the cold river water, dipped my head in, and swam to the opposite side. I got out of the water, scaled the rocks to the highest spot and jumped. I was definitely nervous at the top of the ledge, but it wasn't going to stop me. It felt so good to fall 20 feet; I used my arms to make sure my body stayed perpendicular to the water. You definitely don't want to over-rotate and belly flop from that height. I felt the wind against my arms keeping me in line and I hit the water hard with my feet, probably went down five feet or more. I shot back up with adrenaline coursing through my body and splashed out. I threw my fist in the air and yelled, "yes!". I wanted Abbey and Nin to know I was alive, mostly. But I was also really happy that no rock had moved under the spot where we all used to jump in. I was happy to be alive, too.
But it wasn't just jumping off the rocks that was blissful. This spot on the river is perfectly etched out. The small cliffs that allow for jumping are majestic and silver-grey like so many stones in Yosemite. The color of Half Dome. And for those who don't like jumping off rocks, this place is also a perfect little swimming hole. Just down a bit from where we were, the river gets really wide and the view is made up of pine trees and bushes and other trees.
No man or woman did anything to create this place. It was created by the exacting movement of the earth. I felt so aware of this while swimming. I could feel that I was not in a swimming pool. The water was too cold. I felt too alive. The sun was hot. I felt many things. I was scared from jumping off the rocks, I was scared to be swimming in cold, wild water. I had no idea what other creatures were swimming along with me. But I also felt exhilarated. The green of the trees, the cut of the stone and the rocks, the movement of the river, the temperature of the water, the heat of the sun. I felt it all. It all felt so good.
I forget how different it feels to be in a place outside the city, surrounded by trees, away from the urban mayhem, in the peace of afternoon sunlight. I felt peaceful and on-edge. But also peaceful. In a way I haven't felt in a long time. I forget how important it is for me to go these places, leaving paved roads behind.
with love of the wild, exhilarating, serene outdoors,
Anthony
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
An Unlikely Return to the Catholic Church
Kaya Oakes recently published "Radical Reinvention: An Unlikely Return to the Catholic Church." Kaya is my dad's cousin's daughter. I didn't meet Kaya or even know about her until about four years ago. My dad told me that he had run into his cousin, and she had told him that her daughter just wrote a book about indie music. She was having a reading in Berkeley in the next month. I was so excited that this unknown part of family shared a deep love of indie music and writing. I couldn't believe it. So I quickly bought and read her book: "Slanted and Enchanted: The Evolution of Indie Culture" and loved it. I went to her book reading at Moe's books and introduced myself after the event. I was a little intimidated cause here was this published author, a writer, a really good writer, writing about a subject I love. But Kaya was really cool, super down to earth and just happy to meet a new family member with similar interests.
In her just released, Radical Reinvention, Kaya writes another beautiful book, even better than Slanted and Enchanted, in my opinion. Kaya writes about how for most of her adult life she identified as an atheist. She grew up loving punk music and bashing our homophobic, misogynistic, racist, 99% on the outside culture. She is a pro-choice, pro-women, gay community loving, leftist, political activist. But in her late thirties she began to feel an emptiness that could not be filled by her past passions. She found herself longing for the sanctity and calm of the Catholic Church, the place of her father, her family, her Irish working class heritage. She never envisioned herself returning to the Catholic Church, mainly because so many of its political stances are fundamentally at odds with what she believes. But in the book she documents her return to the Catholic Church in brutal honesty.
The book is hysterical (Kaya is so self-deprecating at times it hurts), incredibly well edited and researched, and ends with a profound acceptance of Kaya's faith, her belief in God, Christ, the Catholic Church. But Kaya is no passive parishioner. She rails on the many failings of the Catholic Church, including its sexist beliefs and policies. Kaya isn't content to simply complain. She gives example after example of strong women from the Catholic Church's beginnings to its present day, including women Kaya now calls friends. She attacks the Catholic Church with a sledge hammer for its destructive position on homosexuality. She does not tolerate the injustice of the Church's refusal to include the LGBT community as equal and loved members of the flock.
As I was reading, I began to realize how important this book is, how important Kaya's bashing the Church for its bullshit is, while she holds on with a clenched, sweaty fist to all the loving and positive aspects of her global Church. Her bravery is clear. The act of admitting to her peer group, made up of mostly atheists like myself, that she is believer, is an act of bravery. By writing this book and continuing to take action based on her progressive beliefs, Kaya is helping to blaze a new trail. She will be the first to tell you that she did not start the movement. It began centuries ago. But she is doing something fresh and unexpected. The Catholic/Christian left, an idea that never even entered my brain until after reading this book: Kaya is doing something big. She is incredibly humble, almost to a fault; but with the story she tells of her radical return to the Catholic Church, Kaya is setting an example for the rest of us, no matter our religious beliefs or cultural backgrounds. You fight what is wrong with the world and you continue to love, to pray, to believe change is possible.
Kaya is doing a very cool public reading tomorrow, Wednesday, July 11th, at 7pm at Moe's Books on Telegraph in Berkeley. I will be there. If you can't make it tomorrow, she is doing a number of other readings in the coming months. I encourage you to read the book and go see her in person.
Buy the book at a local bookstore or on Amazon and write a great review:
http://www.amazon.com/Radical-Reinvention-Unlikely-Return-Catholic/dp/1593764316/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1341975601&sr=1-1&keywords=kaya+oakes
Here is her website:
http://oakestown.org/?page_id=10
with love for active, progressive participation in your social order of choice,
Anthony
The Stooges "Down on the Street"
In her just released, Radical Reinvention, Kaya writes another beautiful book, even better than Slanted and Enchanted, in my opinion. Kaya writes about how for most of her adult life she identified as an atheist. She grew up loving punk music and bashing our homophobic, misogynistic, racist, 99% on the outside culture. She is a pro-choice, pro-women, gay community loving, leftist, political activist. But in her late thirties she began to feel an emptiness that could not be filled by her past passions. She found herself longing for the sanctity and calm of the Catholic Church, the place of her father, her family, her Irish working class heritage. She never envisioned herself returning to the Catholic Church, mainly because so many of its political stances are fundamentally at odds with what she believes. But in the book she documents her return to the Catholic Church in brutal honesty.
The book is hysterical (Kaya is so self-deprecating at times it hurts), incredibly well edited and researched, and ends with a profound acceptance of Kaya's faith, her belief in God, Christ, the Catholic Church. But Kaya is no passive parishioner. She rails on the many failings of the Catholic Church, including its sexist beliefs and policies. Kaya isn't content to simply complain. She gives example after example of strong women from the Catholic Church's beginnings to its present day, including women Kaya now calls friends. She attacks the Catholic Church with a sledge hammer for its destructive position on homosexuality. She does not tolerate the injustice of the Church's refusal to include the LGBT community as equal and loved members of the flock.
As I was reading, I began to realize how important this book is, how important Kaya's bashing the Church for its bullshit is, while she holds on with a clenched, sweaty fist to all the loving and positive aspects of her global Church. Her bravery is clear. The act of admitting to her peer group, made up of mostly atheists like myself, that she is believer, is an act of bravery. By writing this book and continuing to take action based on her progressive beliefs, Kaya is helping to blaze a new trail. She will be the first to tell you that she did not start the movement. It began centuries ago. But she is doing something fresh and unexpected. The Catholic/Christian left, an idea that never even entered my brain until after reading this book: Kaya is doing something big. She is incredibly humble, almost to a fault; but with the story she tells of her radical return to the Catholic Church, Kaya is setting an example for the rest of us, no matter our religious beliefs or cultural backgrounds. You fight what is wrong with the world and you continue to love, to pray, to believe change is possible.
Kaya is doing a very cool public reading tomorrow, Wednesday, July 11th, at 7pm at Moe's Books on Telegraph in Berkeley. I will be there. If you can't make it tomorrow, she is doing a number of other readings in the coming months. I encourage you to read the book and go see her in person.
Buy the book at a local bookstore or on Amazon and write a great review:
http://www.amazon.com/Radical-Reinvention-Unlikely-Return-Catholic/dp/1593764316/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1341975601&sr=1-1&keywords=kaya+oakes
Here is her website:
http://oakestown.org/?page_id=10
with love for active, progressive participation in your social order of choice,
Anthony
The Stooges "Down on the Street"
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
anal sex - an american love story
It was September, 11th.
Walker had come up with a plan. He had spent months thinking about it. He was excited and terrified imagining it actually happening.
Walker was pretty comfortable in his own skin for a 25 year old gay man. He'd come out as a senior in high school and been very supported. Of course there had been those students who taunted him. But he'd made good friends in high school and again in college. His parents cried and hugged him when he'd told them.
Walker lived in new york and shared a tiny walkup apartment in the West Village with his boyfriend, Johnny. Johnny was 5'8 and shaved his hair around the sides and let the top of his hair spill just a bit over his brow. He had abstract tattoos of shaded shapes along his arms, black and white. The tattoos belonged in MOMA, they were so exquisitely executed.
They had planned the event together. Picked a date, Sept. 11, a couple months in advance. Johnny couldn't believe they were going to do it. They had both been inspired by the story of the man who had tightroped across the divide that separated the twin towers. Seeing the photo of the man taken from the ground, the one where he is just a tiny, fuzzy, black speck on a faint line, brought them both to tears one evening, drinking buckets of PBR, sitting crossed legged on their throw rug, in the non-bedroom-other-room of their apartment with the faded lavender couch and the tv and the speakers. They listened to Nina Simone sing I Shall Be Released. Both thought that there could be no more perfect version of the song. They'd cried and hugged and went down on each other. Tears and cum still on their faces when they sadly and euphorically stumbled into the bedroom to sleep, wrapping themselves in a haphazard comforter and silly sheets.
They'd been together for over a year, and had grown fundamentally in love. However, Walker had not yet allowed anyone to enter him from behind, including Johnny. During the first month of their relationship, Walker explained that he was still a "virgin" and still scared. Johnny didn't care. Johnny would wait until Walker was ready, even if that meant he would never be ready.
When Walker told Johnny he was ready a couple months back and then proceeded to tell Johnny his plan, Johnny flipped his shit. Walker was a bit more calm.
"I just want it to be spectacular! I want it to be the greatest moment of my life up to this point. I know other moments will become more important, more meaningful as we grow older. I want to marry you and raise our children. But I want this to be special!"
"Yeah, no fucking shit! But jesus christ! That is some profound, empirically unsolid, stone-faced, belligerent, ranting, raving, heart-racing, horse cock of a plan you've concocted you beautiful man, you beautiful fucking man! But shit. Split."
Johnny sat stunned. Would he do it? Was he capable of doing it? Why do it? But if that's what Walker wanted? But they could easily die. This part didn't seem reasonable.
"But we could really fucking die?!"
"We won't die. We'll be safe. Just like clouds." Walker smiled.
"That, that, that shit you just told me, that shit is not how I define safe. No, no, no, my man. No, no, no. Not safe. No dictionary. Fictionary."
In the end, Johnny agreed. It took him a couple days, maybe a full week, but he got completely on board. It would be special.
And so when the early, early dark morning of September 11th came around, they were prepared. Johnny with backpack and Walker with keys and IDs. They left the apartment and began walking downtown. When they arrived at the North Tower, they knew the path of the first security guard, knew when they would have their moment, and took it. They entered the building at 6am and began to climb the stairs, both looking forward to the sweat on the other man's body at the top. They climbed and climbed in the darkness. Johnny had friends who worked at the World Trade Center and had helped them coordinate the planning though all were unwilling to be there when it happened. This wasn't a tight-rope walk and they weren't eager to be under arrest.
They reached the top and slid the ID card across the scanner to safely open the door. The wind immediately blew, and Walker, the first one through, stumbled backwards. He knocked into Johnny, right in the crotch. Johnny was already hard. Walker felt comforted and walked out on the deck. They walked about 100 feet to the first chain link fence, spinning in slow, bewildered circles: to see the world from such a height. The key to the first lock worked and the gate door opened. They both turned and climbed down the ladder that led to the ledge that led to the second chain link fence, this one with even more menacing barbed wire at the top of the fence, in three rows, angled towards the two on-comers. But again this fence had a door and again they had the key.
They moved through the challenges of the tower top without incident, easily passing by the numerous antennae and satellite dishes, and eventually reached their destination. The ledge, the actual ledge, where one could jump if one was so inclined. But, again, that was not the plan. They just stared at new york city below and everything above.
The ledge, the actual ledge, was only about about three feet high and it jetted back in about two feet. The ledge was built like an upside down "L", so you could sit on it, though that was never the intention of the architects. Walker ran his hand along the smooth concrete. They were facing north, in the middle of the outer edge of the North Tower. To the right the sun was beginning to splash the sky. For Walker, time was moving amazingly fast, he could see the sun rise and set and rise and set and rise and set and rise and set. The purple moving blue moving black moving blue moving golden wheat horizons and the love of stuffed animals and the search for meaning and the primal urge to fuck: all bounty there for the picking, if one was brave enough to pick it. And he picked it, he selected the place and began to remove his jeans.
Johnny smiled, tilted his head and closed his eyes. The muscles in his face relaxed. He smelled the high winds that blew across the tower top, unfettered with city pollutants. His mind played a hymn from his childhood, and he listened closely.
"Aren't you going to fuck me now?" Walker said with a slight edge of insecurity.
Johnny came out of his mind's little concert, smiled brightly and said, "Yes, yes, yes, most certainly, sir. I will fuck you now. You beautiful creature. Feature."
Johnny walked over and helped Walker out of his jeans. Walker looked at his socks and then up at Johnny. A decision was made, their eyes agreed, the socks would stay on. It was a bit rough on the ground, where feet go. But the rest of Walker became quickly naked.
Walker leaned over the edge and stared down at the tiny cars, parked along tiny streets. He saw a news helicopter fly by about thirty stories below them. It was heading uptown along the Hudson River. This vista full of miracles, destinies, mystery and eventually death. Everyone alive down there would someday die. This thought passed quickly through Walker's mind. Johnny handed the two towels from his backpack to Walker. Walker made himself comfortable on the ledge, laying on the towels, face staring down into the vastness, his ass facing up.
"Are you ready? Steady. Macho man."
Johnny had already taken off his pants and shirt. Naked, too, except for socks.
"Yes."
"I love you."
"I love you, too"
Johnny, put on the condom they discussed, plucked out the lube from the backpack, and began lubricating his covered cock. He took the back of his hand and touched Walker on his ass. Neither felt fear consciously, though it coursed gently through their bodies. The sun was now in the sky.
Johnny took a splurge of lube in his hand and spread it around and then into Walker's asshole. Johnny began to finger Walker ever so slowly with the middle finger on his right hand. With each finger movement inwards, Walker's body allowed Johnny to go just a bit deeper. Walker's chest and shoulders tightened at first, but eventually began to relax.
"You feel good. Keep going."
Johnny took his dick in his right hand and slowly guided it towards Walker's asshole. Again, Johnny moved it in close but barely attempted to make an entrance. He just kept it there so Walker could feel him.
Walker turned his head and looked Johnny in the eyes, "Fuck me," he said through the wind and the cosmopolitan daylight. Walker turned his head down and opened his eyes wide. He had imagined this moment for months and genuinely wanted to take it all in.
Johnny's charisma and instinctual desire to fuck took over and he started to push a little harder. He made slow progress but eventually his dick was moving in and out of Walker's asshole helped by the lubrication. Johnny groaned a pleasurable groan.
"Do you like getting fucked in the ass?" Johnny assumed yes, reverting back to his days before meeting Walker, the fucking he'd done with so many boys. Now 38 and experienced, with sharp stubble and graying hair, he'd reserved this moment for the young man he loved on the top of the center of world trade. The motion, their motion is highlighted by sunlight striking through clouds. The motion of fucking, the inaudible grunts and pleasure mixed with a bit of pain for Walker who is staring straight down at the billions of windows directly beneath him. Walker is flexible, open, baffled, content. He keeps giggling thinking of all those windows and Johnny's dick moving in and out of his asshole.
"Keep fucking me, Johnny. Keep fucking me."
Walker stares out and sees an airplane in the distance, and then moves his head to examine the remainder of the new york sky line. The sea is the sky and the sky is the sea. There are no beaches, only tenderness and instincts, fairways and birdies and eagles, streaming down the face of a euphoric lover.
Johnny reaches around and takes a hold of Walker's hard cock and begins jerking him off. Walker is on fire and it takes only seconds for him to splash off the edge. Johnny hears this and feels this and for him there is no more electric aphrodisiac, and soon his back is arching and Walker responds by sticking his ass up, giving more asshole to Johnny's cock and Johnny spasms and squeezes and fucks harder and Walker fucks harder and Johnny grabs Walkers waist and digs in with his fingers and fucks and fucks and fucks and falls on Walker's back, empty, groaning.
Walker watches as the airplane flies by far overhead, probably headed to Miami.
Johnny fucking Walker. September 11, 2000.
"I need a drink."
"Yes, a drink would be good."
much love,
Anthony
I Shall Be Released
Walker had come up with a plan. He had spent months thinking about it. He was excited and terrified imagining it actually happening.
Walker was pretty comfortable in his own skin for a 25 year old gay man. He'd come out as a senior in high school and been very supported. Of course there had been those students who taunted him. But he'd made good friends in high school and again in college. His parents cried and hugged him when he'd told them.
Walker lived in new york and shared a tiny walkup apartment in the West Village with his boyfriend, Johnny. Johnny was 5'8 and shaved his hair around the sides and let the top of his hair spill just a bit over his brow. He had abstract tattoos of shaded shapes along his arms, black and white. The tattoos belonged in MOMA, they were so exquisitely executed.
They had planned the event together. Picked a date, Sept. 11, a couple months in advance. Johnny couldn't believe they were going to do it. They had both been inspired by the story of the man who had tightroped across the divide that separated the twin towers. Seeing the photo of the man taken from the ground, the one where he is just a tiny, fuzzy, black speck on a faint line, brought them both to tears one evening, drinking buckets of PBR, sitting crossed legged on their throw rug, in the non-bedroom-other-room of their apartment with the faded lavender couch and the tv and the speakers. They listened to Nina Simone sing I Shall Be Released. Both thought that there could be no more perfect version of the song. They'd cried and hugged and went down on each other. Tears and cum still on their faces when they sadly and euphorically stumbled into the bedroom to sleep, wrapping themselves in a haphazard comforter and silly sheets.
They'd been together for over a year, and had grown fundamentally in love. However, Walker had not yet allowed anyone to enter him from behind, including Johnny. During the first month of their relationship, Walker explained that he was still a "virgin" and still scared. Johnny didn't care. Johnny would wait until Walker was ready, even if that meant he would never be ready.
When Walker told Johnny he was ready a couple months back and then proceeded to tell Johnny his plan, Johnny flipped his shit. Walker was a bit more calm.
"I just want it to be spectacular! I want it to be the greatest moment of my life up to this point. I know other moments will become more important, more meaningful as we grow older. I want to marry you and raise our children. But I want this to be special!"
"Yeah, no fucking shit! But jesus christ! That is some profound, empirically unsolid, stone-faced, belligerent, ranting, raving, heart-racing, horse cock of a plan you've concocted you beautiful man, you beautiful fucking man! But shit. Split."
Johnny sat stunned. Would he do it? Was he capable of doing it? Why do it? But if that's what Walker wanted? But they could easily die. This part didn't seem reasonable.
"But we could really fucking die?!"
"We won't die. We'll be safe. Just like clouds." Walker smiled.
"That, that, that shit you just told me, that shit is not how I define safe. No, no, no, my man. No, no, no. Not safe. No dictionary. Fictionary."
In the end, Johnny agreed. It took him a couple days, maybe a full week, but he got completely on board. It would be special.
And so when the early, early dark morning of September 11th came around, they were prepared. Johnny with backpack and Walker with keys and IDs. They left the apartment and began walking downtown. When they arrived at the North Tower, they knew the path of the first security guard, knew when they would have their moment, and took it. They entered the building at 6am and began to climb the stairs, both looking forward to the sweat on the other man's body at the top. They climbed and climbed in the darkness. Johnny had friends who worked at the World Trade Center and had helped them coordinate the planning though all were unwilling to be there when it happened. This wasn't a tight-rope walk and they weren't eager to be under arrest.
They reached the top and slid the ID card across the scanner to safely open the door. The wind immediately blew, and Walker, the first one through, stumbled backwards. He knocked into Johnny, right in the crotch. Johnny was already hard. Walker felt comforted and walked out on the deck. They walked about 100 feet to the first chain link fence, spinning in slow, bewildered circles: to see the world from such a height. The key to the first lock worked and the gate door opened. They both turned and climbed down the ladder that led to the ledge that led to the second chain link fence, this one with even more menacing barbed wire at the top of the fence, in three rows, angled towards the two on-comers. But again this fence had a door and again they had the key.
They moved through the challenges of the tower top without incident, easily passing by the numerous antennae and satellite dishes, and eventually reached their destination. The ledge, the actual ledge, where one could jump if one was so inclined. But, again, that was not the plan. They just stared at new york city below and everything above.
The ledge, the actual ledge, was only about about three feet high and it jetted back in about two feet. The ledge was built like an upside down "L", so you could sit on it, though that was never the intention of the architects. Walker ran his hand along the smooth concrete. They were facing north, in the middle of the outer edge of the North Tower. To the right the sun was beginning to splash the sky. For Walker, time was moving amazingly fast, he could see the sun rise and set and rise and set and rise and set and rise and set. The purple moving blue moving black moving blue moving golden wheat horizons and the love of stuffed animals and the search for meaning and the primal urge to fuck: all bounty there for the picking, if one was brave enough to pick it. And he picked it, he selected the place and began to remove his jeans.
Johnny smiled, tilted his head and closed his eyes. The muscles in his face relaxed. He smelled the high winds that blew across the tower top, unfettered with city pollutants. His mind played a hymn from his childhood, and he listened closely.
"Aren't you going to fuck me now?" Walker said with a slight edge of insecurity.
Johnny came out of his mind's little concert, smiled brightly and said, "Yes, yes, yes, most certainly, sir. I will fuck you now. You beautiful creature. Feature."
Johnny walked over and helped Walker out of his jeans. Walker looked at his socks and then up at Johnny. A decision was made, their eyes agreed, the socks would stay on. It was a bit rough on the ground, where feet go. But the rest of Walker became quickly naked.
Walker leaned over the edge and stared down at the tiny cars, parked along tiny streets. He saw a news helicopter fly by about thirty stories below them. It was heading uptown along the Hudson River. This vista full of miracles, destinies, mystery and eventually death. Everyone alive down there would someday die. This thought passed quickly through Walker's mind. Johnny handed the two towels from his backpack to Walker. Walker made himself comfortable on the ledge, laying on the towels, face staring down into the vastness, his ass facing up.
"Are you ready? Steady. Macho man."
Johnny had already taken off his pants and shirt. Naked, too, except for socks.
"Yes."
"I love you."
"I love you, too"
Johnny, put on the condom they discussed, plucked out the lube from the backpack, and began lubricating his covered cock. He took the back of his hand and touched Walker on his ass. Neither felt fear consciously, though it coursed gently through their bodies. The sun was now in the sky.
Johnny took a splurge of lube in his hand and spread it around and then into Walker's asshole. Johnny began to finger Walker ever so slowly with the middle finger on his right hand. With each finger movement inwards, Walker's body allowed Johnny to go just a bit deeper. Walker's chest and shoulders tightened at first, but eventually began to relax.
"You feel good. Keep going."
Johnny took his dick in his right hand and slowly guided it towards Walker's asshole. Again, Johnny moved it in close but barely attempted to make an entrance. He just kept it there so Walker could feel him.
Walker turned his head and looked Johnny in the eyes, "Fuck me," he said through the wind and the cosmopolitan daylight. Walker turned his head down and opened his eyes wide. He had imagined this moment for months and genuinely wanted to take it all in.
Johnny's charisma and instinctual desire to fuck took over and he started to push a little harder. He made slow progress but eventually his dick was moving in and out of Walker's asshole helped by the lubrication. Johnny groaned a pleasurable groan.
"Do you like getting fucked in the ass?" Johnny assumed yes, reverting back to his days before meeting Walker, the fucking he'd done with so many boys. Now 38 and experienced, with sharp stubble and graying hair, he'd reserved this moment for the young man he loved on the top of the center of world trade. The motion, their motion is highlighted by sunlight striking through clouds. The motion of fucking, the inaudible grunts and pleasure mixed with a bit of pain for Walker who is staring straight down at the billions of windows directly beneath him. Walker is flexible, open, baffled, content. He keeps giggling thinking of all those windows and Johnny's dick moving in and out of his asshole.
"Keep fucking me, Johnny. Keep fucking me."
Walker stares out and sees an airplane in the distance, and then moves his head to examine the remainder of the new york sky line. The sea is the sky and the sky is the sea. There are no beaches, only tenderness and instincts, fairways and birdies and eagles, streaming down the face of a euphoric lover.
Johnny reaches around and takes a hold of Walker's hard cock and begins jerking him off. Walker is on fire and it takes only seconds for him to splash off the edge. Johnny hears this and feels this and for him there is no more electric aphrodisiac, and soon his back is arching and Walker responds by sticking his ass up, giving more asshole to Johnny's cock and Johnny spasms and squeezes and fucks harder and Walker fucks harder and Johnny grabs Walkers waist and digs in with his fingers and fucks and fucks and fucks and falls on Walker's back, empty, groaning.
Walker watches as the airplane flies by far overhead, probably headed to Miami.
Johnny fucking Walker. September 11, 2000.
"I need a drink."
"Yes, a drink would be good."
much love,
Anthony
I Shall Be Released
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