FAITH MATERIALS part 1:
As far as i can tell, I’m a descendant of a monkey of the Pennsylvania Dutch. I come from the same blood as that legendary but not completely cute slut from fire island who was one of the first to die. I’m the sometimes- grandson of Isadora Duncan, but more clunky and less refined…probably less strung out. I’m the great (?) nephew of Ed Mock; the one that he had dirty and confusing sexual tension with (exacerbated by race), and who loved being the only white one now and then. I’m my mother’s son, and my mother is still that self-proclaimed mermaid. I descend from the great hybrid sea queens, who spew Beckett texts and secretly lash themselves in the mouth in their rooms at night. I come from a jar of peanut butter. I come from the desert, crispy and blank. I come from a particular time and place when 1980 settled into its summer, and Bruce Springsteen laid a strategically clumsy blanket of pacifism over my otherwise agitated mid-western ancestors. I am one in a along line of Foucault-ian whore-faces, waiting for the next pervasive surge of gay shame to allow my dick to get hard again. I am born of the questioner’s spirit. I am the descendant of Grotowski and of glitter and of AZT and of Karen Finley. I live in the shadow of my ancestors. I have secrets. God only knows. I come from a long line of cheating, brainwashing, vulnerable disasters, who thrive off of the tornado. The sugar high. The authenticity. I am the grandson of Freddy Mercury who antagonized his gender trouble with my slick and dead performances. I am the adopted servant boy of Sarah Vaughn…she accepted me as her own after some serious fucking negotiation. I am the offering of the offspring of ______, who once tried to kill herself because some ungodly bitch wasn’t following the rules in gymnastics class and she just couldn’t bear the injustice of it. I am my sad brother’s brother. I am the new dying. i am the new memory. I am the new archive. i am the latest endangered species. I’m just a bunch of skin. I’m a placeholder. I’m the fading reflection of the great ones. I’m here.