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March 31, 2005



Others cruise boys on the beach, far down there the nudity is. Others try to impress, playing three-quarters-naked volleyball and trying not to reveal that the closest they came to sports in high school was the Huey Lewis album. Others hang with the TVs, TSes and lesbians down by the rocks, "looking cool" by mixing with the sexes and trying not to look at the "icky" breasts and "nasty" cooz but at the danglies of the boy sitting cross-legged across the circle of sand.


I walked the dunes. Birds. Wind. Salt. Hoping that the torrid fumblings of two (or three or five) boys in the sand would not interrupt the illusion that I was alone with nature and whatever god I could find inside myself.

Such behavior got me dis-invited from P'town.

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