welcome to the e-salon, Miriam!

Hey, Bad Santa is a Jew, or at least his girlfriend is.

the nudity and eroticism are quick Tools [at least in this uptight country] to get under /beyond the casual, social, the normal, and other margins which keep people away from freedom so that we will start exploring, playing together tribally. And it works. People come to the “audience participation experiential performance ” with that context clearly displayed. So they came for that, even if they don’t know exactly what that means or includes. Not knowing exactly is the spice of life. Trust is the key to unlocking the “zones of comfort” [which really are prisons of fragility]. Really the trust I am speaking of doesn’t have a subject. You trust me because you trust yourself because you trust life. That trust is a rugged comfort.

I am getting together with Maggie [who read my poem] Wednesday!

Well, if I didn’t have you and Kerbavaz who are willing to go against the prevailing expectations, it would have been much harder for me to beat the curse of their expectations, judgments, projections. This curse is most certainly why I ended up in the ICU in the first place! [they couldn’t ask me if I was breathing ok!] Of course I would be dead without my tribal body of Linda, Mikee, Corey, Alexi and Erika. And there are the hundreds of people who kicked my ass not to die and gave us what we needed to survive. Of course all of that came from a lifetime of living outside of the prevailing expectations, building tribal relationships, exploring erotically!

Hey, if they were so wrong about me, wonder how many of your other patients they are wrong about!

NO CAN NOTS

By

FRANK MOORE

Sunday, April 28, 2002

Talking to future healers

& teachers

& maybe future

muckrakers & troublemakers

Well,

Not really future

Because hopefully

You are doing IT

RIGHT NOW!

Hopefully

I’m not talking to the future guards

Of the corporate normalcy

Armed with can nots,

Limiting futures from birth,

Enforcing coloring only within the lines,

Enforcing doing everything

THE RIGHT WAY

THE NORMAL WAY

Last night I was searching on the web for a photo for my next painting and ended up with a nasty computer virus

which was hard to get rid of! so people need to send me sexy nude photos for me to paint!

And speaking of traditions:

SEASON OF HIDDEN HOPE

a radio musical

by

FRANK MOORE

November 23, 1993

1

Walking along

cold dark homeless

roads

clogged with ice fears,

my only friend

is the wind

chilling my bones

into longing

and lost

and beyond…

into a cynical loneliness.

Herding my sheep,

looking in windows

of unattainable desires,

looking at presents

useless

because

I don’t have anyone to give them to,

looking into the past

soft colored warm homes

that are no longer mine.

Everyone has left,

everyone is gone.

Even the sun has left

long ago,

long before the manger.

And the sun

will not come back

ever

again.

This is the season

of dark depression

and fragile suicide.

Yes,

I know

I can always bum up

the $29.95

to buy

the plastic hope and faith

at 7 Eleven

and pretend

it is my wonderful life

playing

in the video store’s window.

But instead

I wrap myself

in a jaded pretense

of dry ice isolation

of not caring,

and drinking

the stale

but warm wine of regrets.

2

The birth

of new hope

has always been hidden within

the long cold

winter darkness.

Huddle together,

clinging to our tribal warmth

as our only protection

against dying

into the scary

black

unknown,

we always have been blind

to the evergreen

hope of life.

It has always been

the first time

the sun

and easy hope

have gone away.

So we always think

they will never

come again.

The evergreen hope

has been hidden

away

in the womb

of the humble

and in children’s dreams.

The forces of greys

have always overheard

the possibility

of the hidden hope…

have always searched

for it

to pervert it

into human isolation…

or,

failing that,

to kill it

for all time.

But the forces of power

always overlook

the hidden human hope

rocking

in the baby’s cradle.

As power

goes on a desperate killing,

chopping

hacking

gorging,

eating

the old world up……

we huddle together

in the silent night

upon the hill,

rocking together

in our tribal body warmth.

The shaman,

the holy woman,

the medicine man

have always shifted

our attention away

from the dark

cold

outward

fear,

have always shifted

our gaze

to the guiding light

of new birth…

at first

in the stars,

then in the roaring

tribal fire

which pulled

all human feelings

within it,

and still later

into that corny

home hearth

crackling

with bright colors

popping.

Into this fire

we have always gone,

hearing

the drumming

of our innocent heart

beating

in a slow excitement,

meeting

again

our love of life.

We curl up

with our love

and wait

for warm spring

to arrive…

as hope grows

into knowing.

shucks, Suzy! Ain’t that why we are here … To be here for one another?!

can’t wait to get your card, Vinnie!

yeah, that video is one of our best shows. It starts goosy loosey, and kept going more and more out there… Comparing our small ding-dongs [I won, I think!]! And ended up both nude, rubbing our two bodies together erotically [allegedly]. And I still get shit for only erotically playing with females! There’s no Justice! Speaking of shit, what was that stain on his behind?

I’ve often aspired to being labeled a ‘sick puppy’ by you.

I accept this as an honor as a high form of compliment.

Not the highest but it will do.

And you guys do indeed make the best Xmas specials!

‘Badder Santa’…Are you referring to the movie with Billy Bob Thorton?

Never seen it.

If this the same film you’re referring to I’ll make sure to put it on my list to watch.

I’ve been enjoying gazing at your Xmas card on my fridge.

It’s beautiful and warm. Thank you again.

Heaps of hugs to everyone,

xo Paul

* * * * *

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

* * * * *

Oh Cool!!

Fred, a great way to spend the next year!

I played it last year while a group of friends and I sat around drinking hot cocoa.

Please let da boyz know they’ve become a holiday crowd pleaser!

Paul

* * * * *

In Freedom,
Frank Moore