Monday, July 30, 2007

"Fun with your Toys"

Boy I sure hope Blogspot don't get mad at me again. I'm getting tired of starting from scratch!

You'll note that "Astro" is being a good boy. No oral or anal sex this time! Blog hosts please note the chasteness of his embrace of dear old "Tink!"

For heavens sakes they're both Queer's from way back. In fact they was both at "Stonewall" so give'em a break.

(The cartoon company paid off the press to spike their pictures, but I'll come up with them next week,...stay tuned)

They're just friends.

On the other hand what's up with Buddha, and Wonder Woman? Are they an item?

See the last pix where "Astro" gets mugged by a fish. Reminds me of an episode of the "Goon Show". Btw much brotherly love, and a tip of da Crown to Admiral Pickles for an excellent hand job.

Eh,...what I meant to say was that my dear Grand Admiral provided a steading hand for our cute toys while I attempted to make snaps of them. Production Assistant is what I meant to say. Her husband would'a gave me the hand job.

We was both Gay Radicals, and pals in the old daze, but he was a tad too old for me if ya gets my drift. Ahh life. Ya never know what's gonna happen. My Gay Comrads gets hitched to a swell gal, and I secretly build Queer Angel robots in my basement. Go figure.

Well time for me to hit da sack. You folks be nice to each other okay.

See ya in a day or two.



These are a few passages from the faerie tale I had written for my radio show a few years back. It's a very simple thing well at least it was at first. As you will read it begins here as a sweet fantasy.

Later as the story developed all the usual fun stuff came on stage. Demons, the Buddhist Mafia, shape changing, gay unwed daddies, and robbing mob casino's. All that comes later when our hero, and his boyfriend become teenager's.

However for now I hope you'll enjoy the the early stuff. Some fans have asked for it so here it is. Btw the drawing above is of a t-shirt that I designed for my radio show on Wbai. The listeners love my Timmy. Especially when he got older, and he'n his sweetheart became gay teen anarchist Robin Hood's.

'But that's a whole other story. Well, lets begin at the beginning...

Once upon a time there was a boy that was half Angel. Now this "boy" this half Angel lived all alone in a hut. A hut made of autumn leaves, and bright hopes. This is a boy, a child of light that dance's under the moon, and can hear the stars sing.

This half Angel child is Timmy Tom, and he lives in the Blue Desert. These stories, and dreams take place in the Blue Desert. A desert that blooms. Though you may wonder how can there be woods, and streams in a desert. How can there be flowers, and fields of grass among dunes, and stone. Dolphins, and whales that fly, stars that sing or Angels that bless?

Well such thing are in this desert. They are where G-d put them, and that's good enough for me.


Timmy Tom being part Angel was born with special gifts. Not only can he fly as all Angels do, but he can also hear the voice, the "songs" of souls. Every living creature has a soul, and every soul has a song. These songs tells the story of the person, says who they really are.

Timmy Tom can hear these songs. Just as he can hear the wind in the trees or the hymns from the sky. One of the joys of being even part Angelic is that if you wish you can hear creation sing.


One of the happiest times for Timmy are clear summer nights. When all the stars of the eternal heavens sparkle down. Timmy Tom has counted many of them, and knows the brightest by name.

When all is right in the Blue Desert, the desert with so many things in it. When all is right, the sand, the dunes, the stones. The grass, the trees, the lakes, and sea's, and all the beings living on or within them,..sing!

They sing each from their souls, and Timmy Tom can hear them. He hears, and sings with them. They together sing the anthems of the joy of simply 'being'.

Timmy Tom lives. He is happy to live, and loves all that is around, and within him. This is enough for Timmy. He is in the World, and to him the World is Good.


As a soul's songs says who a person is. A soul's Dreams say what they want to be. That's why people see Angels in Dreams. They're watching, and sometimes they guide.

Timmy Tom dreams.

Timmy once dreamed that he was a tree. He dreamed that he could feel his roots growing deep into the world. He could feel his wide leaves, and his thick bark. He could sense birds nesting in his trunk. Timmy Tom could feel the wind, and rain as it blew through his branchs.

Another time he dreamed that he was a rabbit. A wild grey rabbit hopping in the underbrush. leaping through wide grassy fields. Then later resting with his family in a warm cozy bough.

Timmy Tom has also dreamed of his mother. Timmy's mother is a true Angel. She is made of color, light, and love. In these very special dreams he's shown many worlds. Some so beautiful that he weeps at the memory of them. Others so terrible that his heart pounds when they come to mind.

Timmy's mother takes him on these dream journey's for a purpose. She shows him both Paradise, and Hades so he would understand the joy of the one, and the fearful temptations of the other.


Timmy Tom sometimes wish's he were a normal boy. He wish'd he had a human mother, and father, and lived in a house. He even wish's that he went to school, and learned all those silly things that people thought were so important.

Timmy imagined growing up. 'Becoming an ordinary man, and having adventures in the real world. Maybe he'd become a sailor, and travel on a ship with great billowing sails.

Better yet he could be a clown! A clown in a carnival that traveled all over the world. Timmy also thought of love, and being loved. Though very young he was still part Angel. This touch of Paradise opened his eyes early so he knew the power of a yearning heart.

Half Angels are mortal. They live long, very long lives, but like cats, ladybugs, and men,..they eventually die. So Timmy wondered about growing old.

Timmy Tom looked ahead. He closed his wings over his face, and saw the future. His future. He was in a strange land. He was sitting beneath a tree in spring bloom, but he was old. Very, very old.

He listened to his soul his future self, and felt joy. He was old, yet happy to be so. Happy to have been blessed with so much life. His wings parted. The years fell away. The sun was shining, and a warm wind blew from the blue dunes.


Time pass's even here. The sun, and moon have chased each other through the seasons. From ice to thaw to bloom to fall. Late autumn has come again to the Blue Desert.

The half Angel sat beneath an ancient oak. The wind blew carrying the last of summer's leaves, and the first of winter's snow. The sky was a pale rose. Clouds shaped like wild ponies galloped overhead shedding a light snow as they went.

Another season of light was coming to an end. All of the creatures of the Blue World prepared for short days, and long cold nights. While Timmy sat his friends the sprites appeared. These gentle beings rejoiced in every season.

These beings were bright little wisps of amber, yellow green, and orange. They first showed themselves as a mist of shifting colors, but then separated into their individual selves. Bright points of light danced around, and over the little Angel.

Happy living sparks poked about his wings, tickled his nose, and flew around his head making a glittering halo, and they sang. The lights sang to Timmy. Oh how kindly, and sweet were their songs.

Timmy the half Angel child closed his eyes. He lost himself in the Blue Desert's woven prayers of wind, leaves, and first snow.


The winds were colder now. The skies was flinty. The wheel of seasons continued to turn. Winter has come to the Blue Desert.

Timmy Tom the half Angel his aura glowing softly in the afternoon twilight walked by "Tea Kettle" pond.

The boy walked along the spout. Lights. The half Angel saw lights under the ice!

As he watched intricate weaves of light covered the surface. There were glittering webs of indigo, crimson, orange, clouds of emerald. Waves of silver, and currents of gold. Timmy Tom knelt, and picked up a small piece of this cold fire. He held the glowing sliver in his hand, and it spoke to him.

He saw that as the ice melted in the warmth of his palm it spoke. The ice sang, and laughed!

The joy of Faeriekind, their stories, and songs are not carried away by the wind, and forgotten. They live on in nature. They are welcomed like rain, and sunshine. They are taken in as nourishment by the living earth.

This is why some say they have heard trees speak, brooks laugh or stones sing. The magic, the faerie magic lives in them. Timmy Tom, heavens stepchild, held the melting ice close, and listened.

Timmy heard a song sung months ago in high summer. A lullaby song by a faerie mother to her new baby. Her words, her music had entered the pond, and now is heard again as the shard melted.


Timmy loves snowy days. At such times it seems as if all the world is in quiet reflection. The rabbits in their burrows the bears in their caves, the dragons atop their mountains, and Timmy Tom in his warm hut of bright hopes.

Outside the wind sculps the snow into delicate drifts. Inside the young half Angel was curled in front of his little fireplace. He watched as the sparks flew, and danced above the logs.

The burning embers became tangles of birds in summer, trees swaying in the wind sand spouts in the far desert. Once Timmy saw the sparks become a ship. A sleek brigantine with great white sails emblazoned with moons, and shooting stars.

These fire visions, would sometimes move him to retrieve his most treasured possession. The music box. This beautifully carved, and enchanted instrument was from his Mother the Angel of the northern lights.

Carefully Timmy took his gift from its place on the cupboard, and set it before the hearth. He then sat down spreading wide his radiant red wings. Timmy lifted the lid turned the key and listened.

It was music like no other! If rose's could sing this would be their song. If honeydew melons could recite this would be their voice. If spring grass could chant this would be their prayer.

As the snow danced in the wind the half Angel sat before his glowing hearth, and listened to his mothers special gift, and watched as the embers created world, after world.

"Faerie Nativity"

"WBAI's Toy Box"

"As a Thief in the Night"

I had written a long post about a nightmare I just had, but the computer ate it. So I take that as a sign that I should keep that one to myself. I'm funny that way. I believe in Signs.

Here's a very short story of my mine. It speaks to what's been on my mind lately. Perhaps alot of our minds.











East 12th Street...,

I turned the radio off.

He was awake again, the man with the terrible wounds. Blinking through red slits he "looked" up at me. With a tattered rasp he said,.."Agony, and I have become intimate friends." His voice was like wind over broken glass. "We share the same body, the same nightmares."

The man,..the Angel? ..coughed molten gold from his ruined lips.

"Demons", "Pain Wraiths" did this to me." "Those wretched children of Hades that rejoice in their dominion over your world." "For idle amusement they plucked out my eyes, and tore off my wings." "For spites sake they infected my soul with doubt, and so severed my umbilical to Paradise,..Elysium."

After these words the wounded man mercifully drifted again into sleep. The only sound that cruel scrape of thin breath over sharp glass. At midnight there was a distant thunder,.. he stirred again, and awoke. He opened empty sockets smiled sadly and said,..."Silly Rabbit." "You have not escaped the fire." "You watched your calenders, held your breath for "Y2K",..then went back to sleep. "But G-d's time is G-d's time." "She will light Her candles, and burn Her worlds when she pleases."

The man/Angel gently touched my arm, and said..."These are the Days foretold to you!" "Your Tribulation 'has' come." With a weary resignation he said.."Go to the window, and look at the sky."

I did. I looked. It was gone. There was no sky. No day, no night, no moon, nor clouds, nor stars. Just void. Void. A great silent Nothing.

"As it was in the beginning." Whispered the Angel." "Is now, and shall be forever."

I gazed into Heavens empty Chalice. Here at last was an answer to Faith. A "Sign", and most terrible wonder.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

"The Realm 2:30 AM"

Your beloved sovereign wanders the steamy streets of our realm in the earliest hours to make sure all is well. Indeed it was a peaceful night, and early morning in the Royal Republic. A few happy comrads, and their dog were also on the nightwatch. We bade each other good 'morrow, and continued our rounds.

Sleep peacefully my dear good, and loyal subjects,...all is well. However the dawn will break hazey, and hot. Such are summer's in our graceful realm.

(Btw, I've just added Ray Barreto's "El Watusi" to our profile's audio clip. It's the new National Anthem of our Royal Republic.)

Below is a different City lost in another kind of night.

Friday, July 27, 2007


Dear Angels,...when ya through with whatever the hell you're doing. Please Bless this blog, and protect her from various, and assorted demons, buttholes, and suits that would cast her into the fire's of digital oblivion.


(Umm, just what 'are' you doing anyway?)

"Inkplum has fallen. Long live our Brave'n Good "Inkplum!"

Greetings my Good, and Loyal Comrads. Your Sovereign, and assorted Grand Admirals, Ministers, and Nobility are safe, and in generally good humor. This after our embattled flight from the seige of Royal Summer Palace.

The forces of censorship, and boredom have breached our borders, and forced a temporary retreat from our beloved digital environs. However take heart my dear subjects. Your favorite Royal blogs, save our sadly lost "Inkplum", do survive, a way.

They now exist as ghostships forever adrift in the digital sea. They shall wander aimlessly for all time in the sargosso sea of "one's, and zero's". You may visit them even leave comments on them, but I cannot add new posts.

Yes your Sovereign is locked out. When the barbarian hoards laid waste to our much loved "Inkplum" protectorate they vaporized our only pathway into the inner working of our lost realm. Tis' a bitter, and cruel fate to so fair, and just a blog.

So please visit our lost blogs while they are still afloat. Indeed I have reproduced two short tales from our lost "faerieland" provience. Which I hope will both move, and amuse you.

To access our "Ghost Blogs" just go to the links patch on the right,..."Sydneyland"

To Victory!

(Below, "Ghost Riders in the Sky!)

(Btw below are a few of my cute stories. If you're not in the mood cool, just scroll past them. There's some naked people further down.)

Stay Tuned.

"Faerie Tales",...sweet'n sour

Faeries have been seen all over the world. In forests, jungles, even lawns, and backyards. Wherever there are flowers, trees, vines, and tall grass there you'll find them. The tall wild grass seems to be their favorite though.

Yes they love being amongst the blooms, and flitting about neon signs. They skim over ponds, and hover between the limbs of trees. However the sea of green grass the wild grass has a special attraction for them.

If you wish to meet a faerie go there. To the wide fields of the countryside. Step softly, and whisper your greetings for they are easily startled. It would be good if you bought a gift.

Perhaps hard candy or a shard of bright colored glass. Even better a small flute or tiny toy harmonica. These they especially prize for they love music. Bright colors, candy, and music.

Now when you see them don't be surprized. Because at first glance they seem to be children. Graceful children with wise bejeweled eyes, and shimmering wings to match. Though very young in appearance they may be old, much older that you,..or your mother or grandmother. Legend says that faeries live as long as trees, maybe as long as the mountains.

Seeming frail they actually have the strength of ten men. Because of their years, and strenght. Faeries have the wisdom to live in love, even innocence. The innocence of age. The gentleness of experience. These beings sing, play, dance, and dream both day, and night.

Joy, and a deep reverence for life, all life is their way. Kindness is to them what breathing is to us. True they are not Angels. They have faults, make mistakes even, though rarely, commit sin. They are fallible, and mortal, but are slightly holier than humans.

There are legends, stories told by soldiers through the ages. Tales of wounded, and lost soldiers laying helpless in jungles or forests. Stories have been told by these men about seeing "them" the shining ones. All of man's wars have tales of winged children made of light that save the wounded, and maimed.

These bright beings would seek out, and find the forsaken, and heal them. Wounded survivors from the wars of the Pharos to the tank battles in Iraq have sworn that kindly, winged sprites had saved them.

With smiles, and gentle touchings their wounds healed. Shattered limbs were made whole, burns vanished. All pain, and terror would lift, and fade as like the passing of a storm. Then in a moment. In a blink of a whisper they'd vanish in a blur, and shimmer of rainbows.

Leaving only a faint breath of their songs.

"Me my Dad our Buick, and the Faeries"

Well there I was in bed with what I've told my pals is, "a flu, cold, cough, fever monster thing!" It's almost like being stoned. Everything is sort of sideways, and different colors. I'd be enjoying this if I wasn't so sick.
Anyway being in this frame of mind I naturally thought about my wee pals the faeries. Gee how I loves them. City faeries are neat, but you have to be quick to spot them. Hey this is a tough town, and faerie or not you have to be fast to get over around here.

As I mentioned in one of my story's city faeries are attracted to neon lights. Well that, and some of the brighter traffic signals. It's not unusual in summer btw to see city faeries around pizza, and ice cream stands,..the neon. They like the ruby red of tail lights too. In fact that's how I saw one of my first faerie's.

This happened a few thousand years ago when America was great, and even regular Joe's had jobs, dough, and laff's. Well one night in this long ago happy time I was sitting next to my dad on the front seat of our old Buick.

A 1955 sky blue, and white two tone if ya wanna to know. Well as is the habit of kids everywhere I was squinting my eyes to make the passing street lights look weird. I had just begun to do the same with the tail lights ahead of us when I see something.

Wow that's a big bug I thought. Only when I stopped squinting it wasn't. A bug that is. It wasn't tinker bell either. Ya'know whole generations of rubes got real wacky ideas of what faeries look like 'cause of all the Disney propaganda. Thing is faerie's is just like folks. Just alot smaller,..with wings,.. and feelers, sometimes extra arms'n stuff, magical powers, eh halos, and eh. Well okay faerie's ain't like folks at all, but so what.

Well there I am sit'n next to the old man as we're roll'n through Queens on our way back to Brooklyn, and there's these little faerie guys darting around the tail lights of the Oldsmobile in front of us. Hey, com'on ya can't make this stuff up.

Now ya'see by this time I'm an 'experienced' kid, and know better than to tell my dad that I'm seen'n glow'n bug people buzz'n around the butt-end of the car in front of us. Hey gimme some credit. I still remember the penance I had to do for one of my previous visions.

I foolishly told my folks that I saw flaming demon bat beasts flying out of an open manhole on Flatbush avenue. My mom made me kneel on a steel rod while I said the rosary ten times over for being in league with Satan. Heck I never even met the guy.

Sooo, I keeps my young trap shut, and enjoys the doing's of the wee folk in front of us. If dad saw anything he wasn't about to tell me. He knew better too. Still they was fun to watch, and they meant no harm.

Not like that seriously scary furry sky-monster-thing. Ya know the one on that famous "Twilight Zone" episode w/the pre-"Trek' Shantner. The hairy bastard, not Shantner, just floats in the air chase'n after airplanes. When he catches one he rips their engines apart so they crash. Remember that one? Forty years later it still scares the crap out'a me! Rod you was one cool genius!

Yes very interesting, but Uncle Sidney what the hell are you getting at with all this?

Ah, I'm glad you asked! See with the warmer weather coming we has to prepare for "Faerie Time!" As we know from tradition handed down from kid, to kid. Generation to generation, like the varied rules of stick ball or ring-a-leave-v-o, or ring something. It varies from block to block around the world, but you know what I means.

Like "Ring Around the Rosy" passed from kid to kid for nearly a thousand years. The knowledge of "Faerie Time" in the same way has come to the 21st century.

Come June at midnight on that Longest Day all "Faeriedom" awakes, and begins their summer frolics! Which is to say it's their mating, and general screwing around w/humanity season. Eh, playful screw'n around. They never hurt anybody. 'Least not on purpose. One thing tho' don't rob or try to hurt them they don't kid around about that sort'a thing. They may be seriously cute,..some of them, but they have sharp thorns. Get my drift?

Otherwise we're all welcome to dance the summer away with them. That business about them abducting folks for years is crap told by the Church, and the CIA. They don't do that,..the demons on the other hand. 'Word to da wise,..stay clear of them gumba's.

How long has this been going on? "Faerie Time" No one knows. Maybe it's from before Ur or Babylon. Legends is full'a all sorts of traces about "Faerie Times", and it's goings on. That Shakespeare story kind'a got some of it right, but he mixed it up with all the class, and culture bullshit of his times. I guess we all do that in a way.

But "Faerie Time" is real. My older cousins told me, and I told my special friends at school, and they told their friends, and so, and so, and so through the years, and generations, and ages to come. An unbroken tradition from kid to kid.

When I was little I danced in a faerie circle with the sweet wee folk by the light of a full moon in Prospect Park. Then again on warm steamy night in Central Park when I was a happily crazed'n horny teenager. Now in my demented pissed off late middle years I still hear their songs.

Bless the little fuckers!

One night folks noticed that the moon was different. It was in three pieces now, and some of the stars was a little closer too. 'Course at first everybody was scared, and ran around crazy. They thought it was the end of the world again, but it wasn't.

After a while people got used to the new sky and calmed down. They even gave the new moons names. The biggest piece which was golden, and shaped like a heart was called "Amos". The next piece which was red, and looked like a star was called "Andy". The last little moon was pink, and seemed to be an ice cream cone,..with a cheery. She was called "Sapphire".

These new moons didn't act like the old one. For one they didn't rise at the same time, and for another they didn't stay put once they did. These guys moved around the sky like they was dancing. Sometimes they'd even flash bright, and twinkle. People, especially kids would stay up late just to watch'em.

Well as you know after 'that' night stuff started to change. Little things, here'n there. New kinds'a bugs, flowers, and animals started show'n up. They wasn't scary or anything, they was just different, new. Like them sea manta's that fly'n nest in trees.

Also some of the old animals ya know like the deers, and cows started doing things they didn't used to. 'And no I don't mean talk. They can sing now sure. The animals be sing'n all the time now. My little sister taught her hamster to squeek "Happy Birthday", and "Jingle Bells". The little guy keeps change'n the word around though, and now it's "Belly Jingleday".

Then there's them cats, and rabbits that went'n grew wings, and is flying around'n landing on peoples heads. 'But getting back to my point, the animals can't talk! Com'on things ain't changed that much.

It's getting so people is obsessing on it like it's gonna happen any day. The lady on the radio called it "Focused Hysteria". That's what happens to folks when the universe changes. She also said that we shouldn't worry about "Amos" or "Andy" falling down on us anymore since their orbits has finally stabilized. Although like everybody else she didn't know what happened to Sapphire.

See one evening after this big bugstorm Sapphire just didn't rise. She up, and went away, and nobody not even my Aunt knows where. I hope she comes back one day. I miss her, and "Amos", and "Andy" look so lonely without her.