Supra-Hero Soul-Mates


My Soul-Mates are not inhibited, and they are willing to show the lady side of the lad.  We all groove to Mario as he blares Tom Jones’ She’s A Lady over the Hi-Fi Stereo.  As I watch my Readers Theater Troupe and my fight-dancers audition, I remember my own mediocrity with the trumpet and piano.  So my Soul-Mate, my Lad of the House-Boat, my Supra-Heroic writer and fighter, consoles me by offering me his ARC:  Admiration, respect, and consolation.  He is too much to so many, and he is just enough for me.

Now Mario is blaring some Bill Withers scat over the stereo.  Bill Withers’ spirit and music is always here.  After listening to his philosophy, the only thing I want to know is, was working at IBM that bad? 

After all, I worked at some prestigious corporations, too.  PEZ.  AT&T.   American Airlines.  Mario turns up the volume on the stereo:

Tell me Tony

Tell me Tony

Tell me why you wanna get high enough to die!. . .

Would ya put on da rock and pat ya foot,

don’ stop,

would ya put on da rock!1020

And upon hearing this music, I see visions I can only add and never take away.  I can either turn them on or turn them off. 

On the fringes of the house-boat studio, I see performers rehearsing fight-dances.  But I am not overlooking the magic among the ones in the middle of the floor, standing quietly, watching and listening while standing, as though they were standing on empty checkerboard squares.  When I hear Bill Withers blaring through the speakers, I have to sit down or I fall down.   Imagine how my parents felt when Still Bill blared through the hi-fi speakers on Christmas morning, nineteen-seventy-two!


Happy Soul-Mates Day! – [Part Two]

1025My Soul-Mate whispers in my ear, “I’m so intrigued by your multi-faceted visions of yourself.”  He and I have thought and grown rich together.  Many people are saying that I am fixating on Tuffenuf, dressed like Peter Pan without the green tights.  I am not getting tired of any of his visions.

And I am not getting tired of seeing Dolphin Girl.  Damn!  In a Fight-Dance, she punches like a man!  She is this sweet and petite Fisti-Girl.  I cannot describe her top, so I let Rema show me__not tell me.  Our next female character, Yin-Yang is getting beefed up because it is time to beef up the girl who is swimming with the dolphins, who is ready for her Real Prince.   Classics-2

Our fashion designer, Rema, walks into the room.  “I am designing Robin & Wonder-Girl shorts,” he says.  “Dolphin Girl, who punches like a man, is wearing shredded, thigh-high, white denims!”

My Supra-Hero Soul-Mate steps up and stands by me side by side after someone in the audience yells, “You Radical!”  He begins to create visions destined to warp__age__yellow, sort of like a nineteen-seventy-one photo album.  My Soul-Mate is as nostalgic as I am.

Again, he grabs me by the collar.

Prince Nehemiah

Now you start writing!




Happy Soul-Mates Day!


Truth is, I have many Soul-Mates.  Some, like Levi, I have had to get out of my system.  Meanwhile, my real Soul-Mate is finishing up his New Vision Vision Wall.  If we are not careful, one of my other Soul-Mates become a virus in our system.

My Soul-Mate is the one who fight-dances anybody who walks into our houseboat studio, who is not careful or considerate, and rearranges anybody’s Facebook and makes him into a Spacebook.  He is the one who is guarding my intellectual property.  When I go, he is there for me.  He is the one who lives with me, guarding my intellectual property, fight-dancing in bright orange short shorts adorning his smooth legs.  During the last seven years with him, he has given me beautiful visions!  Some of which include myself.  He could walk into the house-boat studio dressed as a Detroit Piston if he wanted.1028

“Which Piston is this?,” I ask him.

“Dennis Rodman,” he answers.  Someone like that might be my real Prince Nehemiah.  We are celebrating on October nineteenth, Soul-Mates Day.  And together, my Supra-Hero Soul-Mate and I are journaling and journeying through the MagicLand of Ascencia.

I am at the peak of my writing, walking through Gregory Gregarious’ doors.  It is time to write about my Supra-Hero Soul-Mates.  It is time to write about me and the things I live for.  My real Soul-Mate transforms into “Dr. Crop” in the Soul-Mate Month of October.  Another Soul-Mate, has a Bubble-B__you know__B-Bubble azz.  And he grabs me by my collar and tells me, “Now you start writing!”  And my response is, “I am beginning to describe the single stills of performers and characters.  I am at the peak of my writing.

“I am tired of you.  I want to see some new faces, unless you can come up with new faces.”


Soul-Mates Day in Ascencia: 19OCT

1027I am coming down the home-stretch of this journey.  We are into October, which has always been my favorite month.  In Ascencia, October is Soul-Mate’s Month, and the nineteenth of October is Soul-Mates Day.  Have you found your Soul-Mate yet?  This is where this book begins:  Coming down the home-stretch of this journey.

Have you found your Soul-Mate yet?  I have!  And who is this guy, you ask.  He is the one licking my knees as if they are ice-cream cones.  He is the one who tells me, “You shut up, you lil shit!   You are the one who started this bit!”  He is the Desk-Top Icon who is fulfilling my dreams.  My Soul-Mate has fans and admirers staring or glaring through the sliding glass door windows of our house-boat studio.  He is the one who gets Broadway and Hollywood__even Las Vegas__catching onto Gregory Gregarious.  That is me.1016

By the end of this year in Ascencia, I am writing, producing, and directing Supra:  Heroes, Stories, and Styles in New York.  I am doing this six months out of the year.  And the other six months?  I am in Las Vegas, writing, producing, and directing the same title, yet the much more homoerotic version.  My Soul-Mate is the one who tells me, “You’re the star of the show!”

“Lad,” I respond, “I am.  So are you!”  He is the Soul-Mate of my dreams and fantasies, who would fight-dance for me if he found out that somebody was tampering with our tools.  He is the one who delivers the knock-out punch and says at the same time, “You need ta step off!”  and then he helps me get our webcam working again.1021

He is the one who is with me for twenty-five years, who has always been my creative collaborator__my Supra-Hero Soul-Mate__my Play-Mate, as I become his Special Guest Villain on his television show on which he is the Supra-Hero.  I live to see him in his forties and fifties, with his salt-and-pepper hair and his smooth, golden cream muscles.

He transforms into a middle-aged Adonis as we have been together for twenty-five years.  And I am still looking the age I was in nineteen-eighty-three__twenty-seven__when my chronological age reaches a hundred and eight.






White Denim__5


PEZ shut us down!, I say. Now we shut them down! And we become protagonists who bring it to the table against the antagonists.

Tuffenuf steps up.

Don’t mind getting food from the trash. My heart breaks as I watch my protégé searching through a trash can for food, so I distract him and begin to shadow-box with him.

I say, We’ll do a whole lot of leg-work and whole lot of Fight-Dancing. Tuffenuf watches me as I knock some guy silly with my inner-thigh slaps. My protégé yells, “How do you do that!”

I’m gonna teach you slight-of-limb deception; and then, the other Supra-Heroes can’t keep their eyes off me.

I am admired from afar, as they all hear slap! slap! slap!

and watch me sitting on a dumpster as I’m slapping both sides of a bad guy’s face with my inner-thighs, smearing olive oil all over both sides of his face. I am shattering this villain with his own paradigms.  Levi paints my inner-thigh punches.  I suggest to Tuffenuf to put on short pants to emphasize the size of his thighs.

And he thanks me for my advice, and says,

I am unstoppable today! You now have me spiritually ready. Thousand dollar day today! I am ready to pack a punch and walk the walk to go further.

And farther.

He smiles at me as I flex my biceps. He loves when I do this. I tell my protégé, “I’ll deliver four quick blows to Incognito.” And he says, step aside and let me deliver the KO.

Through good times or bad, I know Tuffenuff will be out there somewhere. When the evil forces are paying just a little more attention to me than they should, I know he’s the kid just around the corner. When the villains are sending out bad messages about me, Tuffenuff will be out there somewhere, ready to knuckle down, buckle down.

White Denim_Part Three

Que whispers in Tuffenuf’s ear:1011

When I am hoarded and hidden away like someone’s money, I tend to lose my soul.

People pass by me with fixated gazes on their gadgets and gizmos.

I would rather be in the woods, plush by mighty trees and green leaves. I would volunteer to pull every weed from those trees until the dirt hides my finger-tips.

The sights and smells of autumn leaves

leaves a memory in your heart and soul.

You look up to me as a genuine mentor, who instills in you the essence of a big brother, who does not force you to follow, think, feel, or even say the same things that I do. A mentor cannot be heartless and soulless, demanding so much from the Universe. Watch as I find a better way.

Tuffenuf responds, “I’ll deliver your punches when your heart and soul are empty.

I love manual labor. I love to use my muscles. I love splitting


just as TC Newell loves sledge-hammering a wedge in too far, needing to figure out a way to get the wedge out.

I admire Que, watching him cut all those logs down to size.

Creativity Now!: New Visions_Episode One

White DenimD10

So you are feeling you are Tuffenuf?

So you are feeling as if you are my Asian Wonder-Lad?

Are you feeling like Que, his mentor?

Are you feeling like a student of TC Newell and his Supra-Hero game?

Can you visualize the way he wrote Que and Tuffenuf when he wrote Supra-Heroes Rock!: a play in two acts?


Since my ghosts and I are aware that searching is action, one thousand dollar action,

I have been searching for images and visions of my

Asian Wonder-Lads.

I have not seen any of these ghosts out on my house-boat deck.

On 17NOV__I do not have to tell you the year__

I know the year.

I am acquiring a thousand dollars a day. And in exchange,

I am giving you Camp Sporaticus.

I am giving you the best street theater in Ascencia.

And I am beginning at once my writing, blogging, videos, and stage-plays.

I am beginning to stir up energy enough to watch the emergence of my Readers Theater troupe.


This year__I do not have to tell you the year__

I know the year.

We are beginning to explore the landscape of the man-scape.

And Asian Wonder-Lads are advocating legs of vanilla cream and muscle.


I am beginning to see my ghosts,

Que and Tuffenuf,

Out here on the deck.

Itching To Get That Itch

And who is this august Adonis I shall meet just in time for the fight-dance competition at the Ascencia coliseum on the thirty-first?  With the double diamond roughness in his voice?  The sooner we meet again, the more time we have tp put it all together.  I know you are out there somewhere.  You are no longer a moon-beam__you are now moon-glow.  come and let me show__not tell__you how in the Green Room before every performance is where the magic begins to happen.


Watch us transform you from somebody who takes self-portraits to a Desk-Top Icon.  Gregory Gregarious here.  I have got your number.  Yes, it is time we__________________[fill in the blank].  It is time to mentally and verbally challenge each other, even though I am more than twice your age.

Boo!  I cannot help but flirt with you!  Boo!  My favorite Latin-Lad.  With one sentence at a time, I am flirting with you.  My potential Soul-Mate.  My FB-Lad.  My first impression of you is I want your legs!  And you do not like it because you see yourself more than just a leg model__so much more, good grief.  When I created this LegFetish, you created me.  Now I am ready__itching to get that itch.  Why not?  Let us go for broke.

Even Henrietta Heron says, Homoerotic art and why not?  I am ready for the evolution of letting your legs do all the talking for you.  I am ready to meet you out at the Night Club and help you transform from a magazine cover to a Desk-Top Icon.  It is time we _______________________[fill in the blank].

Long Endless Weekend-[2]

I am always believing that I am seeing you again, my twenty-four-year old Emo-Lad.  And when we meet again, we will become the Founding Fathers of the Grand Finale Generation.  I am ready for our three-year project because I realize that your magic number is 27.  Mine is 71.  Your crucial twenty-seventh year approaches just as you approach my front door.  And when that happens, I intend to moisten every hair on your legs with my tongue.pi15

I shall name you Ca-Zac!  And I look forward to hearing the sound of your voice reading aloud my words.  You shall proclaim:

I am Ca-Zac!  You sent for me.  I am coming from Sporaticus and from Ascencia.  When I reach 27, I will either be here with you in Ascencia or in Heaven.  Regardless, I am here to help you tell your story.  Your biography.  And at the same time, I am showing, not telling, my autobiography.

Long Endless Weekend

And now, here is the last one for Boo.  My audience of one.  He knows the vulnerable side of me, doing what I would expect all of my performers to do.  Was it not exhilarating, Boo, when you discovered how amazing you are?  You are the first one who caught on.  But enough of this b-s-ophy__let me write your biography.  You are the friendly competition that ended up friendly.  You caught on before I was long gone.  Do I dare to take my risks with you?  Indeed I did and do.  Do I not always live you?  Indeed I did and do.  And I pick up that roach upon your approach.

17AUG14:  [ten-fifty-one a. m.]13

In regard to my Facebook Reawakening and intelligent FB Flirtations, I am waiting for you to walk up to me and tell me it seems you have arrived!  You are now ready to dazzle and stimulate me__as if we are soul-mates.  You no longer mind my repeating and repeating and reiterating.  Now is the time for interpretive dance.  You have arrived also.

Now where are we going?  Back to the time when you let them love you and hate you @ the same time.  I am ready to let them crucify me as I search and find many, many possibilities for candle- stick performances.

When I called you the other day, your line was busy.  And that is good when it is busy because I know that you are home.  I am ready to take every punch you deliver.  Ready for your knee that skices and makes me groan!  I have returned to Facebook just in time.  Now I find my female fisti-girl who I shall name fire-fly.  Or Black Olive.  I have this thing for cooking with black olives lately.  Dare I stare at you wearing your mesh half-tee and thigh-high shorts?  Dare I stare at you from head-to-toe?  Hell yes!  I dare a lot!

I live to reconcile with my brother.  With you.  With Mother, even if it means that I have to go back in time to nineteen-eighty-seven.  7  is quite an important number to me now.  I have lived here in my house-boat for seven years.  That is longer than I have stayed anywhere in the same dwelling other than my parents’ house.  Dare I live here for seven years more?  Yeah.  I dare a lot!  I am always believing that I am seeing you again.  You are one of those get out of the house kids.


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