Page 314 - Some Dance to Remember

284 Jack Fritscher

but rather only dry the man out.
Homomasculinity is a vocation as much as any call to the
priesthood. Homomasculinists descend from the ancient Druid
priests whose ritual predates even the Old Christianity. In the
seminary, ninety percent more boys left the twelve-year study
for the priesthood than were finally ordained. Over those trium-
phant ten percent on their ordination day, the bishop intoned:
“Many are called, but few are chosen.” Profane gay men are men
who fall short of the purity of the priestly homomasculinist voca-
tion. They turn from the essential act of worship and communion
and degrade the sacred sexual exchange of Energy into no more
than a numbers game, a kind of serial fucking as dangerous in its
own way as serial murder.
This is why I feel a special responsibility to gay men. We were
called to something noble and we allowed it to become trivial.
I know the Manifesto is pious piffle to these day-trippers. I was
once one of them. Kick changed me. He converted me. I know
the Manifesto is read by men who understand the purity of priapic
existentialism. What is, is; and what is, is the hard-on that lasts
forever.
I know I’ve sounded elitist, but no more so than the bishop
announcing that few are chosen. I fully realize that in my slam-
ming of gay men, of those many who were called but were not
chosen, that I’m actually rejecting in them what I long ago rejected
in myself: too much no-count sex, too many drugs, sniffing too
many poppers to turn Godzilla into God. No more than Quentin
Crisp wants everyone to be an effeminate homosexual do I want
everyone to be a masculine homosexual; but like Quentin, I want
the boys out there in the streets to know the Way of the Bull,
the Alternative of the Animus. I want them to know they don’t
have to do their Mother’s Act, when it’s their fathers who are so
important. Self-actualization is the only game in town.

The day after Ryan’s return from Thom’s funeral, Solly called him on
the phone. “Remember,” he asked, “when we used to laugh at men who
walked around with signboards saying ‘The End Is at Hand’?” He didn’t
wait for Ryan’s answer. “You’ve missed the real news while you were back
in Central America. I always call the Midwest ‘Central America.’ Wait
until you hear the latest.”
Ryan had heard the rumors of gay cancer, but this was the first

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