errata, queer

Moral Bathhouses

A lot of worship takes place in bathhouses. Flesh is broken, eaten, shared. Faith is affirmed, doubt banished, ecstasy achieved.

A bathhouse is, in many ways, the high temple for a certain kind of queer. Like the famed temple of David-Solomon fame, it takes time to construct, the right builder, the right kind of faith. Like that famed temple, it is also a precarious structure, more present in imagination and memory than in fact.

Is it a problem that I turn to the temple to understand the bathhouse?

* * *
I have, on occasion, asked my students what lessons we might learn from prostitutes.

Increasingly, I am struck by the obsolescence of this question given primetime porn.

Increasingly, I am struck by the necessity of this question given primetime porn.

* * *
One of my deep-rooted fantasies involves being singled out by a revivalist preacher while sitting in Uhuru Park. I envision him rebuking me for lusting after his body.

* * *
The lesson of the bathhouse: beware dis-ease

* * *
I find it difficult to write of the bathhouse as a site of moral teaching, perhaps because of the multiple connotations I attack to morality: bred into the bone multiple years of CRE and government repression. Obedience. Humility. Discipline.

* * *
It is only within the last few years that I have, with the aid of wonderful mentors, started to think positively about intellectual humility, humility not as the soul-crushing submission to convention, but as a social lubricant.

If you dare, here you might trace blacklight evidence.

* * *
It is too easy to fall into a certain cliché: wash me clean

Lessons of the fall: don’t stand next to trees

* * *
Are you in?

Or

Are you out?

* * *
I have often wondered about the significance of white hand-towels as signifiers of desire.

* * *
Poppers?

* * *
“I like people like you”

“You look all innocent”

“And then you get wild”

* * *
In my fantasies, I am not your fantasy.

* * *
Once, while bumping into strangers, he felt a familiar sensation.

4 thoughts on “Moral Bathhouses

  1. “One of my deep-rooted fantasies involves being singled out by a revivalist preacher while sitting in Uhuru Park. I envision him rebuking me for lusting after his body.”

    Now, that is really funny.

  2. Upon leaving Kenya and settling north of the 49th (hint) discovering the bathhouse was intoxicating… it doesn’t get ‘gayer’ than that does it…

    With no significant gay experiences under my belt (pardon the pun) – save for a fantastic passionate kiss in a coffee bush in Thika when I was 15 with my ‘best friend’ (whose reenactment I will go to my grave pining for:-) and oh…. fooling around in high school at great risk for a month or so with some guy who is a womaniser par excellence these days… the bathhouse was a place to behold.

    The honeymoon with the baths was short lived however… My pathetic moralizing self quickly found them too uninhibited (those CRE lessons, I tell you) and I guess it didn’t help being a minority in a sea of Asians and whites… A weird sense of being objectified…

    I kid you not, ‘worshipers’ would come up and asked what exactly I was there for as I managed to look menacing and/or disgusted with little effort.

    Thankfully I discovered xtube so no need to go out of my way to get off…

    I just want to bed someone who can appreciate why Fally Ipupa’s hips are the hottest thing since sliced bread… and until they play Soukous in the tubs and not Peter Rauhofer I am royally screwed…

  3. I have signed a non-disclosure agreement that means I cannot disclose any locations of real or imagined adventures. But I might have trodden in your path at some time in another past.

    The stories one might tell!

    As for xtube. Since I have a link to it somewhere on this blog, you probably know I think it’s great!

    Trust Canadians to come up with it, eh?

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