In my imagination, we would go swimming in the water tank, naked, diving under the water to look at each others junk. Our hands would manage, from time to time, to find the tawny flesh of the other. There, two boys of 15 years, with erections bobbing in the cool water, we would explore all the idle hippocracies of little towns, of political parties, of major religions. Without so much as sucking each other's dicks, we would be on the tongues of the tight-lipped ladies in the now crowded houses of worship....
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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