A NOTE - THE TRUE STORY

OF FAGGOTRY CREATION

Along with a few comments on the lives we’ve led since then….

as told to the faggot White Wolf Walks Between, by The Faggot God Himself!

 

This is His story. They have Theirs. They come together and they come apart. Let’s gossip a bit and see who comes to play in Our story….…

 

It starts like this – with A Note. An undefinable note. Held slow and sweet and pure, filled with radiance and darkness too. The sound spreads, slowly. Oh so slowly. It picks up the air it moves thru as it swells. The air, thus catalyzed, swirls into forms, dancing, moving along at a gentle, growing rate. It develops textures, myriad alignments in the grain, slinky liana sinuously slithering along, oh so slowly, slowly, sound taking over and beginning structure. Water dripping from it, cum, pooling…

Sounds bounce off the water as they do the air. The Notes mix in ways the air takes them, moving to fluffs and eddys, sliding gently across the surface of the waters, picking up tones and tunes, trials and tribulations. Movin’ up High, up into the 4 directions where the power watches. Just Watching…

It’s all there – from one side of creation to all of destruction. It balances. The Light. The Dark. Chilling, delicious, slivers of sounds….flesh sliding against flesh… Death brings suffering, creation joy – it’s the way of it… Slowly moving, softly breathing, picking up momentum, but not so’s you’d notice. Tones, vibrations… Just growing…dying… and  growing…

 So where did this sound come from? It didn’t just make itself - did it? oh My! We heard it was made – in Fact, this is so True – was made by The Faggot – Him, who’s indelibly immersed in the waves of music, of sound, of dance, of Love. Creatin’ life with a whim, a moment of ecstasy, bein’ so easy - One encompassing Youth/Lover/Elder/All of us –  He’s just There. The Faggot God.

Where’d He cum from? Why… He Created HimSelf of course..! He’s Here eh… Who could ever say anyway? Were You there? Maybe so…. He lets this Sound he’s made start movein’ thru the cosmos - forming the cosmos with each breath. What fun! What sublime ecstasy. He’s way happy… He Likes cumming to Play, don’t you? Let’s giggle – like we always wanted to, but we didn't -  cause we were afraid'a bein' called silly faggots..… so do we risk it? Of course, ya silly faggots……

He dances as the Sound Makes him dance, he’s got no choice, tho He set it in motion. So what? It’s outta his control now, truly Chaotic, like it’s always been reeely, but he kinda likes to play pretend. Sorta silly kid-energy, but it’s in alla us…..Mmwaaaaaammmmmmm…. This hum, from moving so exquisitely slow, and that increasing swirl. The Sound is sent forth again, with a different, distinctly different, shading - mellow, smooth, smokey, slippery, slimy. Sluggy, squishy, slidey, snaky, slithering. Sexuality, raw in its shriek, soft in its yearning. Oh, oh, Such yearning…

But now he Really can’t hardly keep his feet on the ground. What ground? What’s that? Where’d it come from? Seems the notes have found one another and  they’re starting to create Bridges between themselves. And along those bridges other sounds are created as they travel at their varying velocities, a bit faster yet. Over, under, thru the water. But still, you wouldn’t see it moving. It’s not That fast – tho, those little ones dancing – who are they?  The energy, it builds stronger when you go slow. Can’t speed it up till the whole thing gets whirling, and that takes some specificity! So many Forms the sound takes… winds in the trees… just flyin’ in the breeze…

Still He dances. Moves as the Sounds move him, ever increasing, the cycle back and forth. Here’s a gift - this sweet spot on the upper palate in the back of the mouth. It’s Magic. Hold your tongue there while you breathe and you get way high. No shit. But when two of Us stick our luvly cocks into those same places, together, one to one, a Circuit is created, and the Sound of that circuit is one of the most powerful strands of the Note ever made. Moving, so slowly, stroking up the energy… And the Release at the end…. the Energy to Heal, and Envision the Vision – Oh, Fuck! His sounds, His pleasure….. Our pleasure. Ours… Ours!! Where’d We cum from?! Such infinite iterations, spanning starfields….all over the universe -  we dance there too. Wow…

Plants cum into being - singing and dancing on the waves of sound. On a mountain of granite, catch a grain of sand in a miniscule crevasse, a few more, a touch of down, a bit of leaf, seed of a tiny thing, so fragile only to live weeks, gradually giving way to small shrubbies, then tiny trees, still so very tiny. Then there’s coming the stories of the Great Trees, growing on those sky-bridges of energy of sounds  - bridges over waters subterranean, smooth smooth silky streams. Cricks, waterfalls, open oceans, bayous - He’s dancing on, more and more. Trees immobile, staunch in their stability, tho once they too traveled… and some still do – we merge with them in the Dance, as we do with All the colorful flowery realm, all the cones and pistils and stamens and pollens – it’s sex, pure and lush – we’re not so different from the plants. He’s made it so we can’t not know that, can’t not feel it, the green the green the growin’ green -  cumming up between cracks in the cement, breakin’ it apart – are you really worried the plants won’t win out over our silly pavements someday? Not likely… He Laughs!   

 But as time goes on, and the Rock, the stone too hard to chip, is cracked too by the roots of those great trees, and the roots travel Down into the strata below and Touch Fire. He’s basking in the lava’s glow as the roots warm themselves there, so deep, as he’s  watching them grow as He sings them growing, songs of themSelves. Touch the soil within the earth, the Dark places where our spirits travel and join with them in the Cosmic Composting, constantly rotting – soil building bit by bit. And  someday there’ll be an oak, metasequoia, monkeypuzzle, sugar pine. Plants will win! Them and the bugs… bugs?? What a Lot fo bugs there are…

We lie in the grasses. We fertilize them with our precious bodily fluids. We have Picnics – frilly sunhats, swirling skirts! We fuck in these weeds… Chafed so we remember the sweetness of it with the rough skin we carry for a few days…  Sharing the magic of Generativity, and let the energy shared grow beyond what either could be alone. He dances faster now… thru the millennia, the eons… baby boys be birthing all over the place…

So many faces He has. And he’s not aloneAlone. Some of the ones dancin’ with him – they’re two-leggeds – lookin’ a lot like Us. That’s right. Newly born…already dancin’.  Look in your mirror dearest. There’s His Twin, there’s Your Twin. Our Double. Double Lover, lust and trouble. Boys in Bifurcations abounding. But oh do they dance and sing so well together, always been together.  Been dancing, moving as The Faggot spirit moves in us, in every tribe, every culture ever. Time and again, evolving into differences everywhere, yet we’re always essentially the Same…always lovin’. Always lovin’.

      Containing all others, He walks between and picks it up as he strolls along. He's bred that one into HimSelf, and into Us too – what a gift! Walkin’ Between. Nice. And then there’s ones are different. Some are sweet, others not always so pure as they say they are…  Lotta strange notes in the mix… But His notes have always been clear among them…. He alone sings so many tones… All in such grand Beauty. What a Symphony! Pure Reality. But dissonance… We need that too… Here’s dissonance….