Postcard 6

Butch & Sundance, Patroclus & Achilles, Hawkeye & Trapper John, Jesus & Peter, Watson & Holmes, Neil Cassidy & Jack Kerouac, Boswell & Johnson, Davis & Samuel, Enkidu & Gilgamesh, Cooper & Truman Tom & Huck, Huck & Jim, Yaweh & Lucifer…

Now let us speak of the great unspoken love affairs, let us speak of the camaraderie of men, today so perverse. In the 40's & 50's the so called greatest generation, hardened in the kiln of the depression, broken on the altar of the so called 'just war' -- as if necessity was synonymous with Justice -- that generation, on whose shoulders this whole mess lies, parked all that trauma in a crew cut and a two car garage. The only response is absurd. As dada followed the first, beat followed the second. That feeling when your eyes are closed and you have forgotten and immersed and the lights come on -- embarrassment. That was the dragon they chased -- with booze and mescaline, with jazz and fluid sexuality --  chasing the hollow echo of a moment of the real. Jesus wept. Achilles wept. Gilgamesh and them journeyed to the underworld -- rent their clothes. David sang weeping psalms,  Hawkeye went mad, Huck and Jim floated downriver. Butch and Sundance drove their cherry-red convertible off a cliff in Peru. Man, man, my brother, my lover, what can we do? We can look upon women and envy their easy beauty so heavy on dainty shoulders, swing axes, fear death, sweet whiskey and cry.