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582                                     Jack Fritscher, Ph.D.
            laughing in the face of omnipotent death. A sweeter shot would have been
            the two of us at the shared tomb of Joseph Croce-Spinelli and Theodore
            Sivel, two young balloonists who ascended so breathlessly high in 1875
            that they — dying in thin air, lying side-by-side, holding hands — floated
            back down to earth where, in the tender tangled repose of two lovers
            sleeping, their intimacy was sculpted into marble.
               Memory is fragile as ice breath on a window pane.
               But it is not futile comfort.
               Yesterday was as interesting as today and certainly deserves some
            dance to remember.

            II.  The feature essay as published in Drummer 20, January 1978

            RUN! Or Men Will Do Things to (Lucky) You . . . .

                         Pissing in the Wind
                         Wet Dreams, Golden Showers
                       A Night in the Mineshaft Bathtub

            “Drink up. Drink up. Let me fill your cup with the promise of a man.”
                —  Neil Young, Harvest

            Gay reality often reads like fiction. Mainly because the gay sense of adven-
            ture, that sense of openness to experience, causes fantasy to turn into fact
            and, once turned, that fact is often so outrageous in its reality, it sounds
            like fiction to people too chickenshit to pursue their fantasies. “What,”
            they ask, “would happen if you actualized your fantasies? There would be
            nothing left to fantasize about.”
               Wrong. There would be new fantasies, one-step-further fantasies,
            push-the-limit fantasies. There would be new lost horizons to celebrate.
               A man without fantasies is a man of the First Kind.
               A man afraid to actualize his fantasies is a man of the Second Kind.
               A man who acts out his fantasies is a man of the Third Kind.
               [The pop-culture reference was to Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters
            of the Third Kind (1977).]


            The backroom bars, watering holes for night bloomers, are phenomena
            of the Third Kind: Contact. They are native to San Francisco and New

          ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
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