“me
and my jack-o’-lantern SEBASTIAN, we had
our road movie started from shelbyville,
indiana, a provincial town where they
despise gays probably as much as they despise
punks, beatniks, communists, pirates, gypsies or
ravers. to them, we’re weirdos ‘cause we
appreciate the enticements of jerking off each
other. well, when his parents divorced, the
valetudinarian kid SEBASTIAN was in
hopes of living with his father, a half-indian
and a quiet, peaceful radio station technician
who liked his son. he probably wouldn’t have
minded SEBASTIAN being gay. maybe he
would have moved to New York City with his son.
but the entozoa judge ruled otherwise. SEBASTIAN
was forced to live with his over-religious
banshee mother who tried to manipulate her son
into becoming a hard-core baptist, but he saw
right through her paltry schemes. and so he ran
away to hide at his father’s place. but his
puffy mother came, together with the police and
a local enquirer reporter. she took SEBASTIAN
home, in the process accusing her ex-husband of
trying to kidnap this innocent helpless
boy. never again did the kid try to escape to
his father, ‘cause he didn’t want him to be
accused of kidnapping or worse things like
child-molesting. so, he lived with his grimalkin
mother for two weeks, and i could not help but
notice that he was totally miserable and
unhappy. he had to wear all those decent clothes
which looked a bit like british school uniforms
and he had to play with all those meek disciples
of bigotry. in his puerility, however, he did
not know what to do. he was in the state of
suppressed despair. so i said to him “okay
now, sunny, thou shalt hit the road or receive
a bloody nose from thine best friend”, and
we scrammed in hysterical laughter. yeah, you
might say that in my scornfulness, i freed
him from the tender grip of shelbyville,
and this time, my young bloodbrother SEBASTIAN
FARTHING got away without getting caught,
together with me. we really hit the road. we
hiked through the bucolic states of illinois,
iowa, nebraska, colorado, wyoming, utah,
nevada and california, it took us
five weeks ‘cause amorous hobos like us, we
always had to be on the spot. i did not want the
police to catch us or some fargone perverts to
mutilate us. i don’t mind the paganism of
paiderasty – actually, i kind of like
it, i’m not one of those p.c.
androphobians who mystify our
conceptualizations of morality - who are
transforming morality into anaphrodisiac trains
of thought which resemble closed circuits – all
just for the single reason that the children of
our nation can grow up as better machines than
the robots. yeah, p.c. must have really
been an invention of the IMPERIOUS LEADER
OF THE CYLON EMPIRE. there’s just
one thing, however: and that’s america which has
such an abundance of parracidal men picking up
hitch-hiking boys and then trying to rape them
without their prior consent. but then, by
scouting i always managed to locate the spots of
some cool bohemians, though you might not expect
them in these hinterland regions, eh, and we
never once got caught. i tell you, we’re one
lucky pair of silly runaways... you know, when
we eventually arrived, we’d been punks for two
weeks already. yeah, we got our hair dyed in
wyoming by some bizarre gothic lady who lived a
life of some crazy old hermit. we had a spectral
seance and talked to the spirits of apollo and
syd vicious and the black buccaneer. they told
her to tear our clothes apart and to make us
some piercings. she decorated us with some
leather stuff and other paraphernalia like brass
orchids and handcuffs. we stood there,
gaping at ourselves wearing these presents of
ghastly genuineness. and then she took us to
Vegas ... she turned out to be some sort of
indian transsexual magician. it was the night
they blew up the dunes. out on the
street, in the crowd, we met several people whom
we invited to come celebrating with us that
night in the most luxurious suite in caesar’s
palace, and they thought we'd gone mad. the next
day, she left us on a desert road, in the middle
of scorched nowhere, but that was part of our
lesson. she had proved to me and SEBASTIAN
that our thirst for life would be immitigable,
and that our good-natured imperishableness could
not be profaned ... there is something she said
during that night, while me and her, we were
together in the bath tub, naked. and it is
something which i find disturbing only now,
because at the time she had said it, i was way
too happy. she said “for generations, i had been
content. it is only now that i begin to miss the
ubiquitiousness of real life again.” maybe, she
was a real vampire after all... but now, we’re
finally here – San Francisco, SEBASTIAN
FARTHING – same initials, by the way – and
me... what about TINTIN? oh
well. i suppose he’s real enough, a little bit
weird, off-beat, but he’s no selfish vampire.
he sure loves SEBASTIAN, and not some
mirror image of himself as a kid or of another
bloody boy of ‘79, if i get your meaning. i
even think that TINTIN is not selfish
enough. SEBASTIAN and
me, we’re still as thick as thieves – we look
after each other ... i wanted to make sure he
never loses his way, and he was the first boy
with whom i had plenipotentiary sex, you know
... ”
the symphonic and ambient sounds
fade away ...