a stream of yellow
' the essence of my craving for piss comes, i think, from the sense of breaking free from the bonds of civilized society, the Pleases and Wash Behind Your Ears and Use Deodorants … cleanliness has never been one of my ideals. a healthy body has smells, a physically active body has dirt on it. my gut produces gas, and when i fart i do not find the smell offensive. a dick naturally gets shit on it when it’s in an asshole … natural body odors and products, right? nevertheless, there are serious prohibitions against all of them.
out in the open road, having dick in hands gives the subconscious a little reassurance of familiarity, the knowledge that things are at least partly under control, that the piss isn’t just going to go flying any old place… pissing, even more than cumload, establish a place [or a man] as mine. dogs have known this for eons.
when i got into the gay world, it didn’t make me long to find men who wanted to piss on me. it turned me on. i eagerly drank it … now, i dream of meeting another man with a similar lack of inhibition, a stud who would feel no hesitation about pissing on me across the table as we’re having dinner; i yearned to live in a house that smelled like an urinal … i open the floodgates to the potential depth that could be plumbed in my psyche by just a stream of yellow. ‘
_refs: text constructed from parts of ‘soaking in it' by scott o’hara (1961-98) in ‘rarely pure and never simple selected essays of scott o’hara' (1999)
+ cal driver in ‘honcho’ (july.1981)
+ beau dubois in ‘chain male’ #1 (1970’s)