THE WORD “SODOM” IS LIKE A GHOST: a fuzzy archetype, a mysterious presence. Enshrined as it is in Western colonialist law and culture, the Christian morality tale of Sodom and Gomorrah and its shorthand, sodomy, have become metonyms for deviant (and usually queer-coded) sexualities and sexual practices.
IT IS JUNE 2018, and I am spending nearly a month at an artist residency on the Mendocino coast, a four hour drive north of my apartment in San Francisco. The title and ethos here is this will take time, and this line sits heavy and resonant with me for this nebulous stretch that often feels immeasurable.
If you were to ask me my two most reliable pleasures, I would be able to bark back a certain answer — the way that little children do, when you ask them what they want to eat, or what they dreamt last night. I would tell you that they are reading and swimming, mostly because they have the same rhythm, all disembodied and steady.
“Those cruises are crazy, I was on one actually. There was an alarm and we all had to get into boats. It was crazy, man.”
Kristen and I are having a hostel roof special in Seville. Paella and alcoholic punch up here for seven euros. What the fuck.
Late at night, while my partner is watching basketball in the other room, I excuse myself to play video games. This is a half-truth. Instead of playing one of the many games I’ve purchased and queued up, I open my computer and go to a familiar bookmarked page: dolldivine.com.
Brita and I start driving north. Our final destination is Salem, Oregon. The sky is yellow and the mountain ridges are a jagged threat on the skyline. Wildfire.
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