Links.net: Justin Hall's personal site growing & breaking down since 1994

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dreamin'

after training aikido hard, drinner with chris and jen mom sends me a photo from florida - Howard sitting in lotus, naked, on the couch - in one photo, there's a picture of ghandi over his head. i go down to visit. Howard states his aversion to one-god judeo-christian monotheism. He pointedly asks my mom if she follows (boaz?) some kind of feminist christian cult out of philadeliphia. She agrees. It's something about my mother I never knew, that Howard intuited. Somehow I am attending church then with my Mom. Howard is gone. Colin is there. We are walking through a gothic sort of cathedral. There is all manner of pageantry - mostly young women done up in purple robes and headdresses. Things quickly become increasingly seamy and strange. My mom disappears. I'm turning my head around to see all that I can - my mind is blown - it resembles more a carnival than a church. I have my camera but I can't take pictures. I take notes instead, writing short phrases to describe the odd proceedings. One of the young women practitioners sees me and calls out - I'm not caught, but there's a feeling like I can be ejected or punished at any time. I'm wandering around and it is as though all my family and history has been rewritten by this group or my exposure to this experience. My cousin Dave is there, with one of his daughters, but he's wearing a powder blue suit with no shirt - he's gay now. I wander deeper into the catacombs and stone hallways, still filled with wandering worshippers, arrayed in carnival garb - purple mostly. I see young women with their faces splattered in cum. I am excited, I retreat into a corner to masturbate. Young girls approach me to assist me jerking off. I retreat away from them, spooked. Then I realize that they are all trained to worship cocks and cum. A few girls close again, sensing my aroused senses and begin to stroke me. It feels good but I still want to capture the experience, to understand the core philosophy or feeling here. Why have these girls become this way? What is this contrast of odd sexual freedom and fear of talking straight or taking pictures?