03-08-2013, 06:55 AM
Please be very quiet and listen. Away in the distance, you can hear someone chanting. Patrick is getting ready to come to your house. He wants to bring joy and comfort to boys. I wonder what boys Patrick wants to see. I bet it is you and the guy you love. Do you agree? Good, I thought you would.
Patrick did not preach in prose to the Irish. The Irish at that time had no written language. He rewrote the New Testament like good poetry. It had a beat so people could hear and repeat. Just like a song is heard and sung by interested listeners. The gospel was good news and meant to be repeated like small talk. Sit down. Pick up the New Testament and convert the entire book to a song to be sung to your guy. He will listen and remember for the rest of their life.
March 17th was always important to my family. I started to march in 1961 with Manhattan Prep in the Bronx. The best all boys high school in the City of New York. I also marched with Manhattan College until I graduated in 1968. I am a Brothers' Boy. Live Jesus in our hearts. Response: Forever!!! In 1969, I did not march. I had just gotten back from the marine corps on 3/1/69. That was an exciting day.
I arrived home after 6 months away and felt downright good looking. The door to Apt 44 opened and my father looked at me. He was amazed at how strong I was. I lifted my duffel bag like it was weightless. I said, "Hi, Pop. What's new?" My father seemed delighted by me. "I missed you, John. Come in and take a load off." My friend Tom jumped from behind the door and blew New Years Horns at me. "Welcome back, John. Glad you survived the marine corps. Your dad and I missed you a lot. The Christmas tree was lit. A complete Thanksgiving dinner had been prepared by Tom and Pop. I had missed all 3 holidays with my dad. They gave me presents and I started to laugh. "Hey, Tom, let's make First Christmas Away From Home by Stan Rogers, our favorite song."
Tom marched by himself on March 17th, 1969. He joined the proud men of County Mayo to honor my father. He believed that Mayo men make the best male lovers. Even if we are not born in Mayo. It is the thought that counts. Mayo men love each other. The lucky ones have sex with other men.
When I met Tom on 6/21/68 I said, " I have a bowling alley at my house. A 33 feet hallway from the front door to the living room. Straight, no openings on either side. I will throw you down the hall and see if you knock over any pins. Tom said "I hate sports, John, and I refuse to talk sports to anyone." I smiled at Tom. "You will learn to talk sports after you meet my father." He met my father and Tom learned to talk about sports with my dad. My dad loved to talk sports even if nobody listened. He happily talked to himself about how well the Yankees or Giants were doing. My dad listened to 162 games on the radio but never saw the game of baseball played. My dad could not see moving objects. They blurred. He could only see stationary objects like Tom sitting across the table from him. My dad had no idea what anyone looked like except me and my friend, Tom.
I get angry these days because everyone says telepathy is not real. My whole life since birth was dominated by telepaths. My mom, my uncles John and Pat. My friend at birth Tommy Mullins until 8. My cousin, Johnny, from 8[1954] to about 1973.My friend Tom from 6/21/68 until 12/8/97. My mom was killed on 9/24/66. My uncle John died in 1960. Tommy Mullins in 1959 from leukemia. Mrs. Donahue in Harlem. Heinrich Mueller in Buenos Aires, Argentina. About 6 German telepaths at the condo on Morningside Heights. I loved every telepath I knew. So what happened to all the telepaths on the planet. I find it hard to believe that Tom and I were the last telepaths. I asked Tom what happened when he mentioned he was a telepath. Everyone smiled and patted his head and told him he was just fooling around or making things up. There is no such thing as mental telepathy.
Telepaths aren't born. They are trained usually at birth or prepared by someone to be a telepath. Tom was very close to his grandmother in Iowa who stayed on the farm and stayed close to the land. His grandma was very quiet and taught Tom to read at 3 and be quiet and stay calm. Tom had high blood pressure from first grade to the day we met 6/21/68. The following morning he had 118 over 68. The same as me. I was a lot better doctor than those weirdos Tom saw in Iowa. They told Tom he would be dead before the end of summer in 1968. They don't believe in telepathy. We didn't believe in doctors. We saved a lot of money not seeing doctors.
The internet cannot help you. Telepathy doesn't exist. Horse manure. It was common in many places in Europe until the mid 19th century. Noise pollution drowns out telepathy. TV and radio drown out. Tom, me, my mom and my uncles grew up quietly before TV. I loved spending time at libraries. So did Tom. Tom and I both had library moms. Both of us fell asleep reading books. Tom and I often had reading dates on Sundays. We divided the NY Times and devoured it. We told each other telepathically about what we read. An inside joke between us was how we could BOTH beat any contestant on Jeopardy. One of us always knew the answer. I could rummage thru his memories as fast as he could go thru mine. My God, we were fast. It was as if we had ONE mind between us.
This means you have to be FEARLESS. We often pissed each other off because we had very different tastes in friends, places and topics of interest to us. We often fought and insulted each other for the fun of it.. It never hurt because we were so close we knew we were being truthful with each other. Tom hated the smell of cigarettes. I hated to talk about opera. Back and forth, we fought for control of what we would think about. The arguments were very real and ended with one of us walking out on the other. We vowed never to talk again. Until, of course, we heard each other's voice and we both cracked up laughing. No matter how hard I tried, I could never stay mad at Tom. We always forgave each other and picked a different topic to discuss. It really felt like a long weird marriage. You are so close, it is hard to tell each other apart. This is without ever considering sex. Most of my relationships were sex free. With Tommy Mullins, until 8, I had no discussions of sex but we could not tell each other apart. We seemed to do everything at the same time and felt great about being together. We added a third friend Joey Leonard and things got better. Joey was not a telepath but he was stronger and stood up for us. We loved the idea that none of us bullied each other. We never let other boys bully us either.
We WERE brothers from our heads to our toes. Tom and I were closer than brothers. At times we behaved like parents to each other giving advice and counseling. I wish Tom were still alive so he could tell me to get off my ass and suggest some things that I would be useful doing. Tom was right last May after my birthday. "John, you look so bored since you retired, I stopped by to cheer you up", He did. As usual he left me feeling elated. I like knowing there is one person in the afterlife who is calmly waiting or me to die. As Tom said, "Don't push up the date by committing suicide and don't turn violent and make someone else die." "OK Tom, I am still not dead and I am not suicidal. Shit, Tom, I wouldn't mind beating a few women to death." "John, leave women alone, I will try to drive them crazy. They will forget you are alive." "Thanks Tom, are there women in heaven?" "A few John, not many. The ones here like you a lot." "Tom, tell God I would like an all male heaven. Women bore me to tears. They always pretend to be the victims of men. Then they insult and gossip about every one."
Twice I've seen Tom's ghost. First, 8/20/09. Tom came to the hospital after emergency open heart surgery. I woke up. He said my sister was coming and she was angry. She walked in yelling at the top of her lungs. Orderlies and nurses dragged her out. I stared and said "You missed. You will have to try harder to scare me to death." She was an amateur. She should have brought a high powered rifle like Adam Lanza.
His second visit in May 2012 was basically funny and made me laugh. I dared Tom to use my bathroom and I would kill him again with my bare hands. "I don't believe God could teach you bathroom manners, you disgusting pig. Sharing a bathroom with you counted as penance for my sins. I applied for a Congressional Medal of Honor for using a toilet after you. You are disgusting. Just thought I would remind you. I still love you, Tom. Come in and sit for awhile." Again I waited for a clue I was not having a psychotic break.
Finally, I heard it. "John, Dottie Motherway said you were the king of one liners."
It was real. The last time I remembered Dottie Motherway was at my mom's wake. I had not thought of her since my mom's funeral. "Hey, Tom, what did I say to Dottie?" "You said the 1958 Edsel looked like a Pontiac sucking a lemon. John, it's great. I forgot how funny you were."
I don't want to brag. I am on the inside curve and plan to get to heaven when I die. I have a long list of to-dos stored up. Eternity lasts for a long time and I don't want to waste a minute of it.. It might hurt if I laugh for eternity. I better find a serious job in heaven. I want to build a planet, a solar system and a nice small galaxy. That should make God think I have my act together. I expect all gays to help. I want to hear someone sing and play piano in heaven. Don't rob me, guys. I don't plan to take money with me. I will be dead broke as well as dead. Be kind to me, wontcha. Sing a song about being a great lover I never liked Billy Joel. Hope you were not a screaming fan of his. I loved Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and Odetta. Adele has great lungs. Wow. Heaven will be filled with great singers and musicians. I can't believe musical people go to hell.
Have a great St Patrick's Day. Remind your friends that Patrick loved gay guys and they can pray to him for anything they really need. Just a thought. Good sex between men leads to long life. I really believe that.
Love,
John
[his name is Buster]
Patrick did not preach in prose to the Irish. The Irish at that time had no written language. He rewrote the New Testament like good poetry. It had a beat so people could hear and repeat. Just like a song is heard and sung by interested listeners. The gospel was good news and meant to be repeated like small talk. Sit down. Pick up the New Testament and convert the entire book to a song to be sung to your guy. He will listen and remember for the rest of their life.
March 17th was always important to my family. I started to march in 1961 with Manhattan Prep in the Bronx. The best all boys high school in the City of New York. I also marched with Manhattan College until I graduated in 1968. I am a Brothers' Boy. Live Jesus in our hearts. Response: Forever!!! In 1969, I did not march. I had just gotten back from the marine corps on 3/1/69. That was an exciting day.
I arrived home after 6 months away and felt downright good looking. The door to Apt 44 opened and my father looked at me. He was amazed at how strong I was. I lifted my duffel bag like it was weightless. I said, "Hi, Pop. What's new?" My father seemed delighted by me. "I missed you, John. Come in and take a load off." My friend Tom jumped from behind the door and blew New Years Horns at me. "Welcome back, John. Glad you survived the marine corps. Your dad and I missed you a lot. The Christmas tree was lit. A complete Thanksgiving dinner had been prepared by Tom and Pop. I had missed all 3 holidays with my dad. They gave me presents and I started to laugh. "Hey, Tom, let's make First Christmas Away From Home by Stan Rogers, our favorite song."
Tom marched by himself on March 17th, 1969. He joined the proud men of County Mayo to honor my father. He believed that Mayo men make the best male lovers. Even if we are not born in Mayo. It is the thought that counts. Mayo men love each other. The lucky ones have sex with other men.
When I met Tom on 6/21/68 I said, " I have a bowling alley at my house. A 33 feet hallway from the front door to the living room. Straight, no openings on either side. I will throw you down the hall and see if you knock over any pins. Tom said "I hate sports, John, and I refuse to talk sports to anyone." I smiled at Tom. "You will learn to talk sports after you meet my father." He met my father and Tom learned to talk about sports with my dad. My dad loved to talk sports even if nobody listened. He happily talked to himself about how well the Yankees or Giants were doing. My dad listened to 162 games on the radio but never saw the game of baseball played. My dad could not see moving objects. They blurred. He could only see stationary objects like Tom sitting across the table from him. My dad had no idea what anyone looked like except me and my friend, Tom.
I get angry these days because everyone says telepathy is not real. My whole life since birth was dominated by telepaths. My mom, my uncles John and Pat. My friend at birth Tommy Mullins until 8. My cousin, Johnny, from 8[1954] to about 1973.My friend Tom from 6/21/68 until 12/8/97. My mom was killed on 9/24/66. My uncle John died in 1960. Tommy Mullins in 1959 from leukemia. Mrs. Donahue in Harlem. Heinrich Mueller in Buenos Aires, Argentina. About 6 German telepaths at the condo on Morningside Heights. I loved every telepath I knew. So what happened to all the telepaths on the planet. I find it hard to believe that Tom and I were the last telepaths. I asked Tom what happened when he mentioned he was a telepath. Everyone smiled and patted his head and told him he was just fooling around or making things up. There is no such thing as mental telepathy.
Telepaths aren't born. They are trained usually at birth or prepared by someone to be a telepath. Tom was very close to his grandmother in Iowa who stayed on the farm and stayed close to the land. His grandma was very quiet and taught Tom to read at 3 and be quiet and stay calm. Tom had high blood pressure from first grade to the day we met 6/21/68. The following morning he had 118 over 68. The same as me. I was a lot better doctor than those weirdos Tom saw in Iowa. They told Tom he would be dead before the end of summer in 1968. They don't believe in telepathy. We didn't believe in doctors. We saved a lot of money not seeing doctors.
The internet cannot help you. Telepathy doesn't exist. Horse manure. It was common in many places in Europe until the mid 19th century. Noise pollution drowns out telepathy. TV and radio drown out. Tom, me, my mom and my uncles grew up quietly before TV. I loved spending time at libraries. So did Tom. Tom and I both had library moms. Both of us fell asleep reading books. Tom and I often had reading dates on Sundays. We divided the NY Times and devoured it. We told each other telepathically about what we read. An inside joke between us was how we could BOTH beat any contestant on Jeopardy. One of us always knew the answer. I could rummage thru his memories as fast as he could go thru mine. My God, we were fast. It was as if we had ONE mind between us.
This means you have to be FEARLESS. We often pissed each other off because we had very different tastes in friends, places and topics of interest to us. We often fought and insulted each other for the fun of it.. It never hurt because we were so close we knew we were being truthful with each other. Tom hated the smell of cigarettes. I hated to talk about opera. Back and forth, we fought for control of what we would think about. The arguments were very real and ended with one of us walking out on the other. We vowed never to talk again. Until, of course, we heard each other's voice and we both cracked up laughing. No matter how hard I tried, I could never stay mad at Tom. We always forgave each other and picked a different topic to discuss. It really felt like a long weird marriage. You are so close, it is hard to tell each other apart. This is without ever considering sex. Most of my relationships were sex free. With Tommy Mullins, until 8, I had no discussions of sex but we could not tell each other apart. We seemed to do everything at the same time and felt great about being together. We added a third friend Joey Leonard and things got better. Joey was not a telepath but he was stronger and stood up for us. We loved the idea that none of us bullied each other. We never let other boys bully us either.
We WERE brothers from our heads to our toes. Tom and I were closer than brothers. At times we behaved like parents to each other giving advice and counseling. I wish Tom were still alive so he could tell me to get off my ass and suggest some things that I would be useful doing. Tom was right last May after my birthday. "John, you look so bored since you retired, I stopped by to cheer you up", He did. As usual he left me feeling elated. I like knowing there is one person in the afterlife who is calmly waiting or me to die. As Tom said, "Don't push up the date by committing suicide and don't turn violent and make someone else die." "OK Tom, I am still not dead and I am not suicidal. Shit, Tom, I wouldn't mind beating a few women to death." "John, leave women alone, I will try to drive them crazy. They will forget you are alive." "Thanks Tom, are there women in heaven?" "A few John, not many. The ones here like you a lot." "Tom, tell God I would like an all male heaven. Women bore me to tears. They always pretend to be the victims of men. Then they insult and gossip about every one."
Twice I've seen Tom's ghost. First, 8/20/09. Tom came to the hospital after emergency open heart surgery. I woke up. He said my sister was coming and she was angry. She walked in yelling at the top of her lungs. Orderlies and nurses dragged her out. I stared and said "You missed. You will have to try harder to scare me to death." She was an amateur. She should have brought a high powered rifle like Adam Lanza.
His second visit in May 2012 was basically funny and made me laugh. I dared Tom to use my bathroom and I would kill him again with my bare hands. "I don't believe God could teach you bathroom manners, you disgusting pig. Sharing a bathroom with you counted as penance for my sins. I applied for a Congressional Medal of Honor for using a toilet after you. You are disgusting. Just thought I would remind you. I still love you, Tom. Come in and sit for awhile." Again I waited for a clue I was not having a psychotic break.
Finally, I heard it. "John, Dottie Motherway said you were the king of one liners."
It was real. The last time I remembered Dottie Motherway was at my mom's wake. I had not thought of her since my mom's funeral. "Hey, Tom, what did I say to Dottie?" "You said the 1958 Edsel looked like a Pontiac sucking a lemon. John, it's great. I forgot how funny you were."
I don't want to brag. I am on the inside curve and plan to get to heaven when I die. I have a long list of to-dos stored up. Eternity lasts for a long time and I don't want to waste a minute of it.. It might hurt if I laugh for eternity. I better find a serious job in heaven. I want to build a planet, a solar system and a nice small galaxy. That should make God think I have my act together. I expect all gays to help. I want to hear someone sing and play piano in heaven. Don't rob me, guys. I don't plan to take money with me. I will be dead broke as well as dead. Be kind to me, wontcha. Sing a song about being a great lover I never liked Billy Joel. Hope you were not a screaming fan of his. I loved Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and Odetta. Adele has great lungs. Wow. Heaven will be filled with great singers and musicians. I can't believe musical people go to hell.
Have a great St Patrick's Day. Remind your friends that Patrick loved gay guys and they can pray to him for anything they really need. Just a thought. Good sex between men leads to long life. I really believe that.
Love,
John
[his name is Buster]
![[-]](https://gayspeak.com/images/duende_v3_local/collapse.png)
